The Beach

         The flyers and crawlers burrowed deep into the sand as a new day dawned. That meant it was safe for Randolf to come out of the water. He hated the water. It was so salty, it left a crust on his skin. It burned his already deep red flesh, which covered his hairless body. When he lay down to sleep in relative security, with the biting and stinging insects gone for another day, the coarse sand scrapped him raw, and the salt always got into the wounds.

         Randolf had always hated the beach, but he hated this one worse than any before it. He hated it, and yet, he could not escape it.

         As he lay down and tried to sleep, knowing the sun would burn him still deeper, he thought about how he had come to this beach.

         He was born thirty five years ago as Randolf Jennings. He was always plain looking, easily able to disappear into a crowd. No one really noticed him if he didn't want them too.

         He grew up in California, but even as a child, he hated the beach. He hated the ocean, with its salty water, that left a strange taste on his skin. He hated the crusts the salt left when he left the water. He hated the sand, the way it always got into everything and seemed impossible to get rid of, no matter what he tried. He hated being out under the sun, it's searing eye staring down on him, and baking him as he sat there. He hated everything about the beach, but he couldn't get away from them.

         When he finished High School, he finally found a way out. Ironically, his knack at going unnoiticed got him noticed. Some people had uses for someone who could walk through a crowd unseen. Randolf became a hired killer, one of the most feared in New York. In New York, he could avoid beaches as much as his heart desired.

         He got to be very good at what he did. He found that he enjoyed killing. It wasn't so much the power to end another person's life. It was the challenge. He couldn't ever be a serial killer, their victims were just too easy. He liked to go after the hard to reach targets, find them, find a way to get to them, and end their lives without getting caught. It was all a game to him. It was a game he never lost.

         It wasn't even the job that got him. It was some random driver. December 31, 1999 was the night. Some one had too much to drink, and he and Randolf crossed paths.

         Randolf remembered that night. He saw the lights come out of nowhere. He threw his hands over his face and let out a cry. Then he found himself on the beach. He was naked, and all his hair was gone. And someone else was there with him.

         The man was tall and thin. He wore what looked like a black opera outfit, cape, suit, gloves, hat, the whole works. It looked like he'd been too long in sun here, though. His skin was bright red. He grinned a nasty grin as he looked Randolf up and down. "You've been a very naughty boy Randolf, and now you must be punished. I understand you don't like beaches. Well, then, you are going to adore this place. One of my finest creations, I must say."

         Randolf was going to tackle the man. He wanted to beat some answers about where he was and what was going on out of the smug bastard. As he tensed to leap, though, he noticed the short black horns that emerged from the man's forehead.

         As Randolf drifted in and out of sleep thinking of these things, he felt a stabbing pain in his foot. Looking down, he saw one of the crawlers, it's long madibles locked around his big toe. He crushed it, but he could feel more jaws closing on him. The sun had set and he slept through it. This was going to hurt. He'd done this before, many times.

         He ran for the water as he heard the buzz of the stinging flyers. He counted himself lucky that only five manged to drive their stingers into his flesh. The salt oozed into the open, bleeding wounds on his body, and he screamed in agony. Once again it felt like acid was enveloping him. At least the damned bugs wouldn't chase him into the water, but he had to stay in the water for another night. He hated the water. He hated the bugs. He hated the sun. He hated the whole beach. And he hated himself for spending his whole life earning him a place in Hell for all eternity.