Five friends were on vacation together at an ocean resort their parents took them to every year. All these friends were all in their late teens so their days were spent out on the beach and the nights were spent partying. I'm not sure what these friends names are, so for the sake of the story let's call them Jessica, Mark, Andy, Jenna and Carly. Also let's make Jenna and Carly sisters, just because. Now as I said before these were all teenagers, hell bent on doing their own thing. Like all teenagers they partied, they drank; they drove around aimlessly with the windows down and the stereo on full blast. But these five friends had a special little hobby, which they pursued every summer. They liked to perform acts of bravery on something that was either dangerous or frightening. I can't really say why they did it. They could have been thrill seeking. They could have wanted to prove they weren't scared of anything. They could have been doing it for attention, but the fact remains they did it and that is an important part of our story.
At the beginning of the third week or their vacation our friends found themselves at the crux of a dilemma. They could not think of anything that was dare devilish, exciting or just down right stupid enough for them to do. This wasn't to particularly upsetting for Carly and Jessica. They would have been happy just sunbathing all-day and getting hammered all night. The others however were getting extremely frustrated. This was their thing. This was what they did. They couldn't just throw down the belt and admit defeat. And so after much consideration (and drinking) they came up with a plan.
They walked up to the cliff at death cove. The name itself should give you an idea of the general opinion of the cove. It may or may not have been it's real name, they didn't know and they didn't care. All they knew was that as long as they could remember they had heard the stories of the monsters in the cove. Things that would drag you down or tip your boat so you were never seen again. They didn't believe that of course. That was just a story made up for tourists. All small town resorts have them.
There had been deaths though, but those were easily enough explained. The waters in and around the cove were rocky and choppy. If you tried to swim or boat in there was a very good chance you would be bashed against the rocks.
That however was not what they planned to do. Above the cove was a rock cliff that extended fifty feet up. There was a path that lead from the top of the cliff to almost the bottom of the cove. The water there was no more than six inches deep at high tide, which it was right then.
So like the ants they marched one by one down the steep crumbling cliff, high above jagged rocks. They were all almost at the bottom when the moon was blocked out by clouds and the cliff face. Carly who had been trying to find a foot hold to make the final step let out a gasp of surprise. The others hears a splash and a thud some more splashing and then nothing.
"Carly" They called out
"Guys, I think Carly might have hit her head in a rock" Jenna said as she struggled to see to the pitch-blackness of the bottom of the cliff. The rest of them started to make the remainder of the descent into the blackness. Six inches of water wasn't a lot, but it was enough for a person to drown in if they were unconscious.
There were four more splashes as the others dropped down and began to search. They didn't say anything; instead they were quiet listening for a sign that tell them where Carly was.
Jenna broke off from the group and started to make here way to the far end of the cove on the off chance that the current carried her sister over there. She found nothing after ten minutes so she made her way back. Her hands out in front of her in the inky blackness to stop her from walking into a wall. As she neared where she had left here friends she could just make out vague silhouettes of they're shapes hunched over something she couldn't see.
"What's wrong you guys?" she asked, "Did you find Carly?"
When they didn't reply she began to feel a bit frightened.
"Guys?" she said, "come on what's wrong"
They said nothing but stood up and turned towards her. Jenna felt a scream begin to well up in her throat. Whatever was looking at her was not her friends. Whatever was looking at her was not human. The shapes were odd and twisted, something that lived it's life in water not on land. And as she began to back up towards the cliff face, her heel hit something that felt a lot like a body.
For the first time she began to smell the smell of rotted seaweed and decayed flesh, the smells of a life spent in the ocean. And above it all the coppery scent of blood.
She began to wonder if maybe monsters were real. That instead of stealing kids from their rooms they took the lost kids. The ones that got buried in gravel pits or were never found...or drowned. After all no one thinks anything of a bunch of dumb kids who got drunk fell down smashed their heads and drowned. Unfortunate yes, and if a few wild animals took a few bites out of them gross, but certainly not paranormal.
She wondered if any deaths were ever really accidents. Or if death was just when the monsters you were afraid of all your life finally got you.
And as a shape stepped forward and she saw in the moonlight a scaled face with a large grinning mouth filled with with sharp teeth, that had the cold dead eyes of a shark she knew.