Enjoy this excerpt from the psychological thriller, The Beach
The wind arrived with the rain, the fierce gale driving the downpour sideways.
As the drops stung his face he cursed his bad luck, slinging insults against the storm—and anyone else who might presume to ruin his day. “I’ll give you a minute or two, that’s all. Then you will move on, leave my beach.”
As if mocking Alan’s pretentious attempt to challenge its dominion, the tempest howled in defiance, stripping sea grape trees of their leaves and wrapping shredded fronds around the sodden trunks of swaying palms.
He looked around for the nearest shelter. There was only his familiar granite megalith some one hundred fifty yards behind him. Although it wouldn’t keep him dry, he could sit out the deluge with his back against the stone, on the side opposite the wind and waves.
As he hunkered in close to the rock he felt the latent warmth of the sun, absorbed from an earlier cloudless sky. Irritated by the sheeting rain streaming down his cheeks, he formed finger tunnels around his eyes and peered through the curtain of water. He recognized the green blur of a plastic chair as it tumbled across the sand.
“Damn storm. It’s crapping all over my beach. It’s got to stop soon, before the trees snap.”
If Alan had ever enjoyed the slightest preference from nature, this torrent confirmed his loss of favor. Unrelenting, the blowing wall of water strengthened in intensity, the whirling gusts clotting the air with saturated grit.
As the swells pushed the storm surge even higher, the huge projection of bedrock could no longer shield him from the reach of the sea.
Wet and cold from the breakers that washed up high enough to touch him, he barely felt the bump of something solid against his leg. At first glance he thought it was a small Thermos. But as the receding surf moved it slightly outside his reach, he could see the cylinder-shaped object was covered with unusual markings—quite different from the bright patterns and bold graphics that typically decorated an insulated beverage bottle.
He leaned into the wind, grabbing the oddity just before the retreating swells could return it to the ocean.
Even through the rain, Alan was impressed with his catch, the color alone making the object interesting enough to reward him for the reach. As the forces of nature jousted for dominance, Alan imagined how the piece would look on the front porch railing, or among his collection of shells lining the pea-gravel driveway next to his house.
A rogue updraft slapped his face with abrasive fury.
“How much longer is this going to last?”
The answer came quickly. Although he was grateful for the unexpected reprieve from the angry elements, the clouds swift retreat was as suspicious as it was welcome. Alan briefly wondered if his new souvenir was some kind of seafarer’s talisman, granting its possessor the power to change foul weather into fair. The thought was a passing one, and in the time it took to jog back to his house, he had completely dismissed the rapid end of the storm as nothing more than a fortunate rebounding of atmospheric pressure pushing the exhausted thunderheads from the area.
After changing into dry clothes, Alan sat at his dining table to examine his new find.
About eight inches high and three inches in diameter, it resembled a small lamp base. But there were no holes or seams from the process of manufacture, and the maker had left nothing that could be opened or twisted free to reveal the interior. One end had been finished with a smooth rounded crown while the opposite was flat, allowing the piece to stand upright.
The material from which it was constructed appeared to be a union of wood and stone, the combination so densely fused that it was difficult to determine which comprised the base component and which was inlaid. Smooth to the touch, the surface was patterned with intertwining ribbons of deep purple and burgundy, the colorful helix forming the unique design that had first caught Alan’s attention as he pulled it from the water.
“It’s just a bauble,” Alan said aloud. “A rich person’s trinket accidentally dropped from a passing yacht. Someone probably paid a small fortune for it, and now I bet they don’t even know it’s gone.”
Alan glanced at his watch. There was still time to get his shopping done before the beach-plundering weekenders took all the good parking spots. He set the object aside, grabbed his grocery list, and headed out for the store.
Here are a few Amazon reviews of The Beach:
"This is one of those "What would I do?" reads. Tightly plotted with well defined characters, this book will make you take a gook look at yourself & think.”
"The writing makes this an easy read, with the story flowing smoothly as the plot unravels. The ending was so creepy, it sent chills running up and down my spine and the hairs on the back of my neck tingling . . . "
"Jaye Frances once again writes a story that is so descriptive that I felt like I was right there on Alan's beach with him. If there was a genre called science fiction fantasy, that is what I would say this book falls into. When reading a Jaye Frances book, I never finish with just a story in my head, I usually have learned some kind of life lesson . . ."
Check out the book trailer for The Beach …
Until next time,
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Jaye Frances is the author of the suspense thriller trilogy World Without Love. Her other books include The New Girl in Town, The Beach, The Kure, and Love Travels Forever. Storyteller, truth-seeker, and optimist, Jaye explores relationships, philosophy, and the complexities of life - a day at a time. Jaye’s books are available at JayeFrancesBooks.com