Marcus liked walking the beach late because nobody bothered him.
One night he saw a pale blue light under the pier.
The Light
It hovered between the pilings.
Too low to be a boat.
Too steady to be a reflection.
Marcus walked closer.
The Voice
The light moved farther under the pier.
Then, from beneath the water, someone whispered:
“Marcus.”
He stopped.
The tide washed around his shoes.
Again:
“Marcus.”
The Phone Call
His phone rang.
The caller ID showed his own number.
Marcus answered.
All he heard was surf.
Then his own voice said:
“Don’t go under the pier.”
Too Late
Marcus looked up.
He was already standing between the first row of pilings.
He did not remember walking there.
The blue light was ten feet ahead.
The Figure
Something rose slowly from the water beneath the light.
A person.
Dripping.
Head bowed.
Wearing Marcus’s jacket.
The Second Phone
Marcus ran back toward the open beach.
His phone kept ringing.
His own number.
Again and again.
The next morning, he found a second phone in his backpack.
Same model.
Same case.
Same wallpaper.
One missed call.
From Marcus.
This story is fiction. The setting is real; the haunting is ours. Browse Yawnder Night Stories.