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PROSE SAMPLE: new novel for beach reading

Harry M. Bagdasian (240-381-3196) freelance writer/director




a love story of vengeful spirits and novel couplings



On The Beach Saturday Afternoon August 1973

Twenty-six year-old Kyle Wilson and his elderly Aunt Rebecca had walked to the beach at Henlopen State Park from the nearby Wilson family home a quarter mile away. To anyone they would appear to be simply an elderly woman in a sun dress and big floppy straw hat and a college boy (Kyle had always looked young for his age) wearing a tie-dyed t-shirt and a purple Speedo swim brief enjoying the fresh sea air and the bright morning sunshine. The angle of the sun and the thin morning mist gave the place and the people the look of a very pleasant Edward Hopper painting.

So much for appearances.

          In fact, seated there on the big old driftwood log, they each had plenty on their minds. She desperately needed to get Kyle away from a house full of relatives in town for the funeral. She knew of Kyle’s previous involvement in paranormal research. When he told her that he had literally stumbled into an ability to touch objects and know their history and that he wanted her to test him, she saw an opportunity to get what she needed. What his Aunt Rebecca desperately needed was information known only to Kyle’s father, her brother, John Wilson, who died two days prior. Unaware of his Aunt’s motives, Kyle simply was happy to escape from his new “grownup responsibilities” and get to the spot on the beach that had always brought him solace of one degree or another.

Sitting there, Kyle was stared up the beach at a group of college students tossing a Frisbee. He was grateful for the distraction. Rebecca Wilson Thompson was watching him staring and waiting for the right moment to continue their conversation. She was nervously fingering a gold coin; a twenty-dollar gold piece from the 1800’s commonly called a “double eagle.” She switched it from one hand to another. Finally, she spoke.

“So far, your readings have been accurate,” he told him. She then held out the gold coin as she instructed, “take a deep breath, clear your mind and hold out your hand.”

Kyle held out his hand and she placed the shiny gold coin in his palm asking, “Can you tell me …”

But Kyle couldn’t hear her. He instantly felt pain and anguish, heard screams, saw blood … then quickly pushed the coin off his palm and covered his ears with both hands.

The gold coin fell into the sand.

“Kyle?” His Aunt Rebecca asked. “Kyle, are you all right?”

He dropped his hands to the driftwood log to steady himself. “Headache,” he lied. “… a really powerful headache. Whoa. Maybe we better try this again later.” He stared at the breaking ocean waves for a moment, slowly stood up, kicked off his sandals and removed his t-shirt. Without a word to his Aunt he ran to the shoreline and dove into the surf.

When he surfaced, he swam very hard until he was a couple hundred yards from the beach.

He stopped, rolled over, spread his arms and legs and simply floated hoping that somehow his beloved Atlantic Ocean would cleanse him of what he had just seen. “But it was too real,” he yelled to the sky, “I fucking saw it!”

The rest was too difficult to shout out loud so he whispered, hoping that saying it out loud would diminish the horror. “I saw it. I saw a beautiful woman get half of her face ripped away by a shotgun blast. I heard the screams, I heard the gunshot, I smelled the stench, I saw flesh and blood fly, I could feel a man’s anguish.” He took a couple deep breaths, watched a gull swoop past way above his head and then told himself, “this new talent of mine is way too fucking trippy.”

He continued to bob in the surf, not wanting to go back to the family, to the house, to the complications. He wished that someone or something could undo everything that had occurred since Thursday two days ago. Thursday when his twin brother Johnny spoke two words to him: “it’s time” reminding Kyle of the kid’s warning from years ago … “when Dad dies, Norman’s business dealings will destroy the family. You're going to have to stop him, Kyle, even if you have to kill him … because if you don't, he will kill you.”

Norman was the virery much alive older brother. Kyle’s twin Johnny had been dead since he and Kyle were 14 years old.

Kyle had never shared that information with anyone. And with the events of the past 48 hours, he wasn’t sure he could trust anyone with it now.






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© Harry Bagdasian