Singing Parasite [On Hold]

The old man and the sea

Tyce stood rooted to the ground, frozen by fear, dark water gurgling and bubbling behind him, a bunch of freaks singing in darkness before him. His skin had turned into gooseflesh, and the stupid rubber suit wasn't helping at all. If something lumbered out of this pitch blackness and assaulted him, Tyce was not sure if he would be able to run away from it in this baggy yellow suit.

"Mr. M-Mani," Duston said from beside him. "I think we should go inside our boat and wait out the night."

Duston was afraid. Tyce could tell from his voice.

Tyce scoured some sand off the glass of his helmet and said, "That's a good idea. But what makes you think that we'll be safe inside?"

"Y-you think someone would bother us in there?"

Tyce nodded, realized Duston won't be able to see him nod, and said, "Yes."

"But I feel like there are some crazy things on this beach."

"I feel the same way," Tyce said, his voice echoing inside his helmet. "And it's true that we can't see these things. But the same is true the other way. They can't see us either."

Duston stayed silent for a while. Then, he said something that froze Tyce's spine. "What makes you think that they can't see us?"

Tyce didn't know. He said, "I don't know... If you want you can stay in the boat. I'll go and have a look."

Duston again went silent. Tyce knew he was wondering whether if he should go with Tyce or should stay back in the boat. At last, he said, "Fine. I'll come."

"We'll be fine," Tyce said, trying to convince Duston as well as himself. "Just don't think twice before using your gun."

Duston mumbled something that sounded like 'Okay'.

"Good," Tyce said and drew a deep breath. "Here we go." He raised the flashlight before him with his left hand and held the gun up with his right. The harsh white light spilled out and fell on a broad patch of grey sand.

Tyce and Duston started walking, their suits making the sucking sounds, the sonorous song still invading their ears.

The swathe of sand slid under Tyce' s feet as he marched forward, the white light petering before him. He glanced to his left at Duston and saw him holding the gun and flashlight in a weird fashion. "Why are you holding it like this?"

"This is h-how I saw cops hold guns and flashlights in TV dramas," Duston said, "It's pretty efficient. You should try it."

Tyce changed his grip on the torch and crossed his left arm over his right hand so, his torch was above his gun, both pointing in front of him. He was not sure about efficiency, but he sure did feel cool.

All of a sudden, he felt movement in the corner of his eyes and froze. A yellow carousel umbrella went rolling across the beach in the wind. Tyce was not sure if the red thing on it was a printed flower or splattered blood.