Hey Longinus!!!!!

[Animal_Chin]

Giz a story mate?

[Chillin]

Longy is currently reading some of my stuff, here's the first page of one of em.

Seaweed


He swung the wheel hard to the right to avoid the ever-present pothole that occupied the last corner on the dirt road leading down to Seaweeds. Inevitably, he hit it anyway and the music skipped half a track in protest. The old van was not enjoying the trip down the three kilometers of torture, but as long as she kept going he was not going to replace her. He’d often thought of buying one of those flash new Ravs or something, but it made no sense to spend that much money when the old girl was doing the job.
He pulled up in the dusty clearing that served as a parking lot and reluctantly switched off the engine. He’d charged the battery overnight after the thing wouldn’t start outside the shopping centre, forcing him to enlist some passers by to push start it. He hoped it would start again after his session.
It was cool walking along the track under the low wattle and bottlebrush trees. He pulled the hood up, hunched his shoulders and tried to stay in the feeble early morning sun. The dew was cold on his feet and had soaked the bottom of his trackies by the time he cleared the trees. He crested the sand dunes to finally get a look at the waves.
That was the problem with this place; there was no way of checking the surf without actually making the trek. It was worth it though because the drive kept the grommets away and the location of the access road was a local secret. A crowd here was ten people, and rarely did you see any blowins. If you did it was usually someone’s mate or a rellie from out of town.
The small but clean left-hander off the rocks was working nicely in the offshore breeze, definitely worth a paddle. A hundred meters to the south, a wedge was spitting fast rights into the gutter where the creek ran out. The creek was the architect here, depositing sand in all the right places and gave fresh water to wash off the salt at the end of a hot day. Unfortunately the Tea-tree stained water was discolouring the waves after last night’s storms pushed their runoff into the ocean.
He waited for a set to come through before making the decision to take on the rights near the creek. There were three waves in the set and the second one had almost tubed, causing his mood to lighten even more in anticipation. He jogged back to the van and began fumbling out of his clothes. It was one of those days, he was thinking, that nobody ever believes actually happened. Part of him wanted one of the guys to turn up just to share the experience. But the other side of him wanted it all to himself, to bottle it up and keep in his experience. There was little chance of Baz or Shorty coming though, both of them were working on Len’s place, which counted Len out too. And big Gavin had finally gone on that trip to Indo with his mates from the mal club up north.
He grabbed the new 6’1” and gave it a quick rub of wax. It was ridiculous; he was almost trembling with anticipation like he did when he was a kid. He locked the van and hung the key around his neck, tucking it into the top of his rashie.
He took the other track this time, the one that ran down the side of the creek bed. The brown water was cold and scattered with debris from the storm. He emerged from the trees and walked along the edge where the water had scalloped out the sand. The waves couldn’t have looked more inviting if they tried. He jumped down the ledge and splashed across to the other side. It was then that he saw it.

[mical]

I've read some of Chillin's stuff, definitely worth the time.

[SAsurfa]

That you Nikko ^^

[Chillin]

EWr...maybe

[Animal_Chin]

Well??!!!!

What the fark did he see???!!




**nice one by the way! enjoyed it and looking forward to the rest.

[SAsurfa]

EWr...maybe

Howdy , didn't know you were over this way!

[Chillin]

I'll post a page each day for you Chin Man.
Hi Sam, just call me ...versatile. Were you been surfing, are you coming up this way?

[SAsurfa]

Hi Sam, just call me ...versatile. Were you been surfing, are you coming up this way?

It's Craig Sam was SAsurfer's remember.. Sam couldn't come up with anything original Not that I like my user name

[Chillin]

OOOps, sorry Craig. Anyway the question remains, any chance of you coming up this way? Club commando rules.

[SAsurfa]

Living in Sydney atm, but yeah, keen as to head up your way for a roadie. Will let ya know before I do. Sounds like you're doing well! Keep on rockin

[Animal_Chin]

I'll post a page each day for you Chin Man.
Hi Sam, just call me ...versatile. Were you been surfing, are you coming up this way?

Please do!

Green Mile style.

[Chillin]

Page two

At first he thought it was a garbage bag that had spilled open, leaving a trail of rubbish to wash into the sea. Then his heart skipped a beat as he realised it was a human body. He stopped dead in his tracks, struck by disbelief and fear. It took a moment for his brain to react to what he was seeing. He looked cautiously around, then started to walk slowly towards the grizzly scene.
The body was partially buried face down in the sand. It was a man with sandy brown hair, slightly balding on top. The dark blue rash vest he was wearing was pulled up around his armpit on one side. It revealed a large wound where internal organs had been pulled out, either by the rushing water or curious wildlife. Grey and white boardshorts held only one leg intact; the other was nowhere to be seen.
He stood over the body for a moment trying to understand what he was seeing. Blood pounded in his ears, drowning out the oceans call, as he stared in fascination and abhorrence for what seemed like and eternity. Eventually his thoughts began to coalesce again. He put the surfboard down on top of the bank. He realised that the man was dead, and that he had been there for a while, at least overnight. It seemed obvious that whatever happened, it hadn’t happened this morning; besides, there were no other cars in the car park.
Suddenly he turned and ran; sprinting up the beach like a scared rabbit. His thighs and calves burned as he pounded up the last of the small dunes and down the shady track. He was panting heavily by the time he reached the van. He fumbled with the key before reefing the door open and then stopped to curse himself for locking his phone in the glove box. The key to the glove box was in his trackpants in the back. “AAArgh,” he yelled.
He had no idea why he was hurrying; the body wasn’t going anywhere. When he eventually got to the phone he tried to force himself to calm down by taking deep breaths while sitting on the tailgate of the van. It was futile, no matter how hard he tried, he continued to shake and hyperventilate.
He turned on the phone and looked at the screen, only to find that there was no signal. Unfazed, he ran around to the front of the van and climbed up the roo bar and onto the roof. There was still no signal. “Shit,” he said. He had a quick look around for a decent tree, but the local stunted scrub was no higher than the van roof. He jumped down off the van and ran back up the track towards the beach. There was still no signal on the top of the low dunes but he didn’t stop to curse it, instead he ran for the rocks at the north end of the beach.
The rough volcanic rocks cut and gaffed his feet and hands as he climbed, but he took little notice of it. The rocky point dominated the surrounding area and was home to a pair of Sea Eagles. He hoped he wouldn’t disturb them too much. It was a frustratingly slow ascent, punctuated by frequent stops to pull out the phone to see if there was any signal. Finally at the top, he grabbed the phone and stared hopefully at the screen. One bar was all he had. He dialed 000.
“Hello, your location please?”
“There’s a dead body on the beach, I need the police”
“Yes, but I……..loca…”
“Hello, can you hear me?”
“……ation……signa…….ice…”

[mical]

Such a good read this, and 32 pages to go!

[Animal_Chin]

Ah! so it's a dead surfer that's been found.... how did he die? shark? one too many drop ins? blue-bottle?

look forward to the next installment!

[Chillin]

Page three

He looked at the screen again. It was blank. “Shit, shit, double shit!” he said, punching the on/off button several times. But the signal was gone.
Seaweed beach was slap bang in the middle of a national park. To the south was five-mile beach, culminating at Blakely’s Head. To the north lay kilometers of rocky headlands and inlets. The nearest phone was up the track to the fire road and down to the Servo on the highway. He began his slow tedious climb down the rocks.
He’d looked towards the spot where the body lay several times, but the deep gouge that the creek had carved hid it from view. He could make out his board sitting on the top of the edge and he glanced at the surf momentarily.
Strange thoughts entered his mind as he surveyed the now strangely hostile bush - ‘The guys dead, it won’t matter if I have a surf’ and ‘if he was murdered, I wonder if the murderer is still around, maybe watching from the bushes?’ – but he shrugged resignedly, finished his descent and jogged wearily back to the van. He had no idea that his frustration was about to multiply.
He reached the van and shut the tailgate, then climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the key. He was rewarded with a clicking noise from the starter solenoid.
“Not now, you useless piece of junk,” he yelled. The dash lights glowed dimly in the morning sun, only to disappear whenever he turned the key to the start position. There was enough power in the battery for the lights, but not enough to turn the starter motor.
Emotion began to get the better of him and tears of frustration welled up in his eyes. He slumped forwards onto the steering wheel. He lay there for several minutes on the edge of losing it altogether.
It was the sound of the ocean that made him sit up. The tide was coming in and the creek was rushing out. The body would likely be buried under tons of sand and water in the time it would take him to walk out to the servo.
Various scenarios flashed through his head. Maybe someone else would turn up; or ‘the body’s’ friends might know he was here and come looking for him. After all, he looked like a surfer and surely he’d told someone where he was going? Sickeningly, he realised that nobody new his whereabouts either. His girl would not expect to see him until late afternoon and his boss had laid him off for a couple of days due to lack of work.
He climbed out of the van and began to make his way back towards the creek trail. He knew that he was going to have to move the body to higher ground before he could start the long walk out.
The sight of the corpse was no less shocking as he approached for the second time. His limited knowledge of human biology suggested that the entrails wriggling in the creek’s current were intestines. He got down on his knees and tried to push them back into the body, but was suddenly overwhelmed by nausea. He closed his eyes and held his stomach. It was going to be impossible to push them back in these circumstances. He sat back on his haunches and surveyed the situation. “Sorry mate,” he said.
He stood up and grabbed hold of the arm lying outstretched in the water. It was incredibly difficult to keep his footing and maintain leverage, but slowly the body began to pull free, first at the shoulder and then the torso. It came out with a loud sucking sound. That was all it took for him to begin retching into the creek.

[Animal_Chin]

Shades of Paul Kelly's 'Everything's turning to white' there.

Keep it coming mate!

[Chillin]

Page four

It wasn’t the noise or the smell that had made him retch. It was the feel of the flesh which had softened and puffed up from its exposure to the water. He gathered himself and washed his mouth out in the creek but the Tee-tree flavoured water wasn’t much relief.
It took a lot of nerve to look down at the face that stared sightlessly up at the sky.
He had seen a dead body before; one of his workmates had died after falling from a roof and landing awkwardly on the top of a pile of bricks. But that didn’t make this task any easier. He grabbed the arm again and resigned himself to dragging the body up the sand bank. After several minutes he realised that it was going to be impossible to make it by himself. He had a quick look around and tried to decide where the high tide line might be. There was a flat area about ten meters away that had been left when the creek had changed direction. He decided that it would have to do.
It took him best part of half an hour to drag the inert body onto the dry sand, by which time he was completely exhausted. He flopped down into the creek and let the cool water flow over him as he lay prone under the sun’s accusing glare. Eventually he got up and wearily decided that the walk up to the servo was unavoidable. He looked back at the body as he walked away. He’d tried to arrange it as comfortably as possible; it seemed the best thing he could do.
Back at the van he tried the engine again but it was even deader than before, probably because he had left the door open and the interior light was on. He grabbed a t-shirt and a bottle of water and locked the doors.
He had a lot of time to think while he walked and there were two things that weighed on his mind. The first was the dead man’s identity, and secondly, why was he alone on the beach without any sign of a car or a surfboard. The board could have been attached to the leg which was missing, but that didn’t explain how he got there, or how he died.
The other problem on his mind was the police. In a small town like this everyone knew everyone, and he knew some people better than others. There were only two cops at the local station and he’d had had run-ins with both of them. But the worst was the sergeant.
A year ago, down at the pub having a quiet afternoon drink, he’d met Leanne. She was pretty and friendly and had been chatting to his mate Smithy. When Smithy left she’d turned her attention to him. Leanne was new to the small coastal community and was getting a bit lonely, hence her Sunday afternoon at the pub. After a few quiet drinks their conversation had flowed and they’d discovered a lot of common ground, especially a love of the ocean.
It was probably the alcohol, or maybe they just hit it off, but they’d ended up back at his place having sex until the early hours of the morning. Then the bombshell came, she had to leave before her husband came home from work. Her husband turned out to be the new police sergeant. The shit hit the fan a short time later and he found himself in the middle of a marriage split. It was a few months later that Leanne moved in with him.
Smithy laughed at his stupidity and called him an idiot for not realising that Leanne was out for it that night. It didn’t matter how it started though because his relationship with Leanne had blossomed, but his trouble with the police had just begun.