EXCERPT FROM DEVIL IN THE DUNES

I see you.

Hidden behind tall tufts of spiked dune grass, the shifting sands and impenetrable pitch-black waters of Lake Michigan mere feet away, I watch – crouched and ready.  Past the golden grasses and below the sloping dune, Cadie McLeod is twirling girlishly in the cool sand. She acts as if no one is watching her because, of course, she doesn’t know that I am. Would she keep swaying around the flickering fire if she knew I was here – observing her - hidden from view?

I’m quivering with anticipation. It’s midnight in Harbor Cove. Up above, a red supermoon casts rays through incoming clouds to shine a hazy spotlight on the endless beach. It allows me to study her every movement. I am transfixed; in the soft light, the popular young woman is more captivating than ever. Her face is toasted warm and glowing. Dancing in her flowing yellow sundress beside the crackling bonfire and red sparks shooting high into the night sky, she smiles brightly at her good friends – and eager eighteen-year-olds in expensive swim trunks who hope they'll get lucky tonight. 

Like all men: fools.

A sudden gust of wind catches the young woman’s long crimson hair, and it lifts upward, causing her and a friend to laugh and stumble in the wind-blown sands. The breezes are cooling, picking up. The smells of sweet fire and earthy lake water fill my nostrils as strengthening waves claw at the nighttime beach. I observe Cadie touch the gold necklace around her slender neck, the neck my fingers soon will be choking.

She’s blissfully unaware. Just a lovely girl on an idyllic beach enjoying her end-of-school celebration. Completely at ease – well, maybe not completely. Her parents were murdered (but that’s another story).

Oh, how I despise her and her happiness.

While I bide my time, a thought suddenly springs to mind. The little girl (Emily was it?) who disappeared from these very dunes ten years ago. Her tender body was never found. Some of the locals say the Devil in the Dunes got her.  

Poor little girl.

Now shifting from knee to aching knee, I try to calm my excitement, waiting for the final minutes to pass, and feeling the syringe in my coat pocket move slightly. I pat it reassuringly. It’s almost time.

Be patient.

Too many times to count, I’ve approached girls like her – beautiful girls with fit bodies, tan faces, and straight, white teeth. They’ve got it good growing up in Harbor Cove. Just being women, honestly. They’re sweet at first, happily chatting with you for a minute, eyes animated, providing you a moment of their precious time. Then, slowly, that look appears: the dark shadow of recognition.

Oh, this guy’s weird.

They’re not smiling anymore. Nervous and uncomfortable, they scan the room. They're looking to be rescued. From me. The Weirdo. 

Who do they think they are? I’m worth a million of them.

So, I made a vow to live free of them.

I’ve never been happier.