Antonio was just finishing up for the day, staring at the sand between his toes like he'd failed everyone he loved. A group of women lined up before him: Three Tammy's and a Becky. He wasn't actually sure of their names. He handed each of them an envelope. It was payment for the four hours spent kissing these women on Venice beach before a rolling camera. His face showed only remorse, however. He was thinking of what he had seen underneath the pier. It had been dark down there, despite the midday sun, and Antonio was mouth-to-mouth with one of the Becky's at the time. Over her shoulder, Antonio saw the billowing dark shape holding the book, gray hair rippling from its head. Its face was hidden in the shadows, except for two piercing eyes -- tiny white beads honed on him. He knew exactly why it was there in the split second it took for panic to fill his spine and flush his ears with the sound of screaming blood, only to be immediately forgotten and replaced with a salient blast of pure cleansing terror. When Antonio finally pulled enough air into his lungs to scream, the visitor was gone. The girls were frightened. His cameraman gave him a look he'd never seen before. He played it off as a panic attack, apologizing. But he knew it was real. After all, he only screamed because it had spoken inside his head.