"North Sea Monster" by Kate Lunn-Pigula

CW :: Please be aware that this piece alludes to sexual assault and violence.

North Sea Monster

I had gotten into the habit of going to the beach each morning. It wasn’t for health or wellness. A woman at work had found a fossil on one of these beaches, and that intrigued me.
She had been walking her dog, she said, on the quiet beach, and found a dinosaur fossil. I believed that the dog had found it.
I liked getting lost in the task of searching for these fossils. I would comb through the stones washed up on the shore and get distracted by the shiny ones, which obviously weren’t fossils.
What I needed was a dog.
I looked up and saw a man coming out of the sea, and he was heading towards me. I hadn’t seen him get in. Had he been watching me on the beach all this time? I looked at my watch. I had been there for half-an-hour. Still clutching some possible fossils, I stood up. I didn’t want to be sitting down, crouching, as I had been. I wanted to be at my full height, which wasn’t as tall as this man approaching me.
He was in a wetsuit. If we had been in town, in a normal context, he would have been laughed at. But he knew he now looked imposing. He had confidence even though I could see the outline of everything. The suit was clinging to him.
“Morning,” I said. I brushed at one of the pebbles in my hand. No fossils here.
“What have you got there?” he asked, with a leer. I looked around. No one else was around.
“Oh, just looking for fossils,” I said. “No luck so far.”
“What’s a pretty girl like you doing that for?” he asked. “You come here a lot?”
I must keep it breezy. “Oh sometimes,” I said. “Not very often. I enjoy it.”
He looked around and came up close to me. He reached for my breast, and I was so surprised I froze. He kneaded it. After standing there for what seemed like hours but was probably seconds, I pushed him away.
“What are you doing?” I said, not being too angry because I didn’t want to provoke him.
“It’s just a joke,” he said. Now that I was standing further away from him, I could see the outline of his erection in his wetsuit. It looked comical. “I’m only joking, God.” He shook his head. I wanted to throw one of my rocks at his head. But I didn’t want to provoke him further. There was nobody else around, and he could still attack me. I looked down at my top. His hands had been wet.
He walked away then, bemoaning women. And then there was a flash.

*

I looked around. He had disappeared. He wasn’t where he had been, walking off the beach. Was he was plotting a revenge attack? The stones I had been holding were on the floor where I had left them. I must have dropped them. I looked down at my top. The handprint where he had groped me must have dried.
I looked up. He was in the water again. How had he got all the way over there in ten seconds?
He got out of the water and approached again. I picked up some rocks, heavier ones this time. I didn’t want to talk to him. He came nearer, and I held the rocks more tightly. One I was clutching had a sharp edge.
“Morning,” he said.
“Don’t morning me,” I said. “Back off.” I held out the sharp rock.
And he laughed and walked off, muttering about crazy bitches.

*

And then there was another flash, and he wasn’t there anymore. But I looked over, and he was in the sea. I was in a time loop. This gave me a level of confidence that I had never felt before. As he came out of the sea this time, I waited for him. Come on, then. Let’s go. I felt powerful.
He walked over to me again. “Hello,” I said.
“Hello,” he said, leering. I wanted to carve the leer off his face with my sharp rock. Maybe that’s what I had to do to end the time loop.
“Do you come here often?” I said. Even in the time loop and with a man who had assaulted me, I still felt the need to be polite.
“I like an early swim, yes,” he said. He opened his mouth, and I interrupted him.
“What’s your name?”
“You’re very forward,” he said. I felt the edge of my sharp rock gently with my finger. “It’s Steve.”
“You’re one to talk about being forward,” I said. I saw red. He reminded me of a man who’d said nasty things to me in a nightclub once.
“Excuse me?” he said slowly, as if I could be a forgotten wronged woman from his past. “Have we met before?”
“You could say that,” I said, finally losing composure. I wondered what it must feel like, being a man, being able to lose my composure around the opposite sex with no consequence. “You fucking groped me.”
“What? When?” He looked panicked. “Where do you work?”
“You said it was a joke,” I said. “What was so funny?”
“You can’t just accuse me of something like that, you mad bitch,” he said. “I’m minding my own business.”
“Ha,” I said. “That’s funny.” And I started laughing, and he came at me, and — rather than reaching for my breasts this time — he went for my neck. Again, I froze. I felt the oxygen slipping away from me. Then there was another flash.
*
I couldn’t believe he killed me. I was so shocked that I walked off the beach. I turned as I was leaving and saw his form in the sea. As I was stepping off the beach, there was a flash again.

*

I couldn’t leave my situation.

Kate Lunn-Pigula

Kate Lunn-Pigula has an MA in Creative Writing from the University of Nottingham. Her work has been published by Litro, Clover and White, Brilliant Flash Fiction, Idle Ink, The Honest Ulsterman, Other People’s Flowers, Bunbury Magazine and Thresholds, amongst others. You can find her at http://katelunnpigula.wordpress.com and on Instagram @katelunnpigula.

Headshot: Kate Lunn-Pigula

Photo Credit: Kate Lunn-Pigula