It was a perfect summer morning on the Jersey shore. The beach-goers were emerging from their thunderstorm-filled night of slumber, awake and refreshed and ready to confront the beautiful day. This was the kind of thing she loved most about summer. From the time she was a little girl, she remembered taking family vacations to the shore and lazily spending days in the sand and surf and wandering up and down the boardwalk looking for the next great adventure. Of course, everything is an adventure to a six-year-old.
As a teenager, she still went with her family on vacation; but she also went with friends' families and just for day trips with gaggles of other teenagers- giggling, flirting and walking that fine line between unbridled little girl excitement and restrained enthusiasm brought on by a self-awareness of others watching her.
Now as an adult, she continued these traditions, journeying to the shore several times each summer with her kids and husband in tow to instill the same memories of carefree days and childlike exuberance in her own family. Times had changed. Outdoor games had been replaced by Nintendo DS, streaming television and on-demand movies. Clambakes, wienie bakes, barbecues and burger burns had been replaced by the local Chinese takeout. But, the boardwalk fries, saltwater taffy and waffles with ice cream still remained as a sort of liaison between her world and theirs.
She was brought out of her daydream by the squeal of her daughter. Nothing out of the ordinary. The kids fought all the time. When she was little, she quarreled with her siblings too, but not like this. They had their differences and worked them out on their own. Her kids never seemed to get along. It was exhausting and she had hoped to avoid some of it by getting them out of their normal environment. She listened closely and determined the reason for this outburst was surrounding a particular Lego that apparently both had laid claim to. She decided to let it be and hope they worked it out.
The sun was high overhead and starting to really beat down, so she decided to go inside for a bit, cool off and maybe catch the lunchtime news. Nothing exciting. The usual- a row home in Philadelphia caught fire, a local soldier returned home from a lengthy tour and the usual political fodder that seemed to concern the haves more than the have-nots. But then, a special report broke in that caused her to sit up and take notice.
She couldn't quite believe her ears. Was she dreaming? This couldn't be real. I mean, this was the kind of thing only in some Hollywood film that scared her to death as a child. Could it be?
The local news anchor was reporting rumors of shark sightings in the area and one attack on the very beach where they were vacationing. She listened in horror as the eye witnesses recalled the victim screaming and being pulled, bleeding from the water. But no one had actually seen the shark. Thankfully, the victim was going to be fine, just in need of quite a few stitches. But, a shark? At the Jersey Shore? It was so..... cliché.
She realized with a start that her family had been at that very same beach earlier and had probably just missed the attack by a few minutes. She let out a sigh of relief and was thankful for the difference a few minutes could make. The authorities were puzzled as to why there were no actual sightings of the shark. The coast guard as well as the news crews had all scrambled for airspace over the beach, but there were no sharks to be found from that angle either. It was a mystery to be sure and certain to break up the monotony of the long summer days. It would be something the locals would talk about for years and stories for the vacationers to tell and re-tell their children and grandchildren. The phantom shark attack and the year Jaws almost came to life.
As the week passed on, the local restaurants, ice cream shoppes, cabanas and shops were all abuzz with the story. The doctors at the local hospital were all certain, judging by the man's injuries, it had in fact been a shark attack; but even the victim could not recall actually seeing the shark. The news quickly went national and fear was quickly reaching the entire eastern seaboard. People were canceling their beach rentals and throwing local economies into emergency mode. It was speculated that this vicious attacker was almost other-worldly, defying logic and normal limits by being able to appear at will anywhere along the east coast out of thin air. The shore towns were on edge wishing the beast would just be sighted and caught before the last few weeks of summer wasted away to fall ending the summer season.
And then, it struck again.
Much to the relief of the rest of the country, but the horror of the little Jersey shore town, it struck at the exact same beach. One and a half weeks after the initial incident, after still no sightings and increasing pressure from the beachfront business owners, the beach was deemed safe and reopened for recreational swimming. On that very same day, a woman reported being waist-deep in water and feeling something latch onto her leg and pull with such force, she was almost dragged out to sea. She screamed, kicked and splashed and eventually the thing let go and disappeared. The woman was taken to the local hospital and received over fifty stitches- not quite as many as the last victim. When interviewed by the police, she reported that she, too, had not actually seen the shark.
The town was again thrown into total panic. The people that had stayed to wait out the last beach closure packed up and left. The place was becoming a ghost town in the middle of August and it looked as if the season would indeed wrap up a few weeks early with still no answers to the questions.
She sipped her Earl Grey and put down the newspaper. Once again, her family had been at the beach the same day as the attack and had apparently missed it only by minutes. She felt it far too risky to tempt fate again and decided with a sigh that they would pack up today and leave as well. She could use the extra time for school shopping. The kids both needed new shoes and the supply list this year was very lengthy. She might as well get a head start preparing for fall.
Everyone was packed and ready to go and she decided to take one last walk through the house to make sure nothing was being left behind. As she passed through her daughter's room, she found, stuffed underneath the mattress, an opened pack of gum, some shaped rubber bands that were all the rage that summer and a bottle of bubbles. All things she knew she had not purchased for the kids. All things she was fairly certain her four-year-old daughter had swiped. This was her challenging child. The one she was certain was going to be the death of her. The discovery of these items did not surprise her at all. This was so like something her daughter would do. She put the items in her bag for discussion later when they got home.
Now, she passed through her son's room. He was always such a good boy. He almost always did as he was told, rarely got into trouble and was wise far beyond his six years. She never for a moment thought he would ever give her grief. She smiled thinking about his sweet little face and seeing only a pristine, clean room she turned to leave. But something caught her eye. She turned back to see the corner of a newspaper sticking out from under his bed. She picked it up and it was folded to the story about the first attack. He hadn't discussed it with her at all and she wondered if he thought it was exciting or if it was scary to him. She hoped it hadn't caused nightmares and made a mental note to discuss it with him. Then she saw something else shoved further up under his bed. It was a journal. She pulled it out and opened it.
She inhaled sharply. Her son's handwriting was before her, but she didn't recognize him at all. The words told of a terrified little boy not understanding his surroundings. As she read, everything started to fall into place. She realized he WAS scared. She read more and finally had to admit the truth to herself.
She was the mother of the Jersey shark.
At that moment, he walked into the room, saw the journal and his face went white as a sheet. She calmly asked him to open his mouth. He shook his head. " It's alright, son. Just please open your mouth for me." He complied and sure enough her suspicions were confirmed. There, in his mouth, were two rows of teeth on bottom.
She quickly packed up Shark Boy and they left... with the memory of the summer that Noah got an extra row of teeth, his Mom called him "Shark Boy" and penned an elaborate story about it.
Now, THAT'S down the shore... Jersey horror flick style!
This post is being linked to Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop. Prompt #5: "What five images paint a perfect picture of summer to you? Put those images together in a piece of writing."
I grew up on the Gulf Coast.. so summer is the beach to me. And the other four images that comprise summer to me are summer thunderstorms, the boardwalk, ice cream and writing/reading fiction.
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