The Man By The Sea Novels & Stories

The day my daughter was fighting for her life, my wife, Shirley Hartley, was busy helping her childhood friend Oliver Burke get married. I called seventeen times. On my eighteenth try, she finally picked up. "Shirley, Nyssa's getting worse. The doctor says she needs life support now. They want twenty grand upfront. Where's the money?" Her voice turned ice-cold. "I used it. Oliver's wedding is coming up, and that stuff costs money. I'm not letting his fiancée's family look down on him. "Nyssa just has asthma, right? She coughs a little and suddenly they want twenty grand? Sounds like a scam." Nyssa lay in the hospital bed, her tiny face ghost-pale. Her eyes slowly opened. "Daddy, I wa

Marine Dock Seven had been dead since the shipping companies pulled out, but the old cannery still stood—half-burnt walls and corrugated tin breathing in the wind. I killed the headlights. The Land Rover’s engine clicked as it cooled, and I stepped out, every instinct in my body going sharp. No sound but the soft crunch of gravel and the tide somewhere nearby. I kept one hand on the grip of my Glock, coat loose, movements slow. Then a shadow moved near the dumpster. A man stepped into view—mid-fifties, narrow shoulders, twitchy hands. Balding, dressed like someone who’d been sleeping rough. His eyes scanned me from a distance, hesitant but desperate.

I couldn’t shake the sense of being trapped, of having no control over my own life. As I walked along the shoreline, letting the cool water kiss my ankles, I noticed a small boat anchored a little ways off the beach. A man stood beside it, pulling in a fishing net, his figure broad and lean, with tanned skin gleaming under the sun. Killian. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his muscles flexed with each pull of the net, droplets of water clinging to his skin. He was speaking with an older man, a fisherman by the looks of him, who appeared to be helping him haul in the catch. Their conversation was quiet, but I could hear the low murmur of their voices mixed with the sounds of the sea.

But the thing is, if she were thrown into the water, it's not sure. "Do you know?" The man raises an eyebrow, pulling her into his arms, unexpectedly embracing her, and walking towards the railing. "What are you doing?" Fiona Forger hastily clings tightly to his neck. "I'm throwing you into the sea for the fish to eat." The man acts as if he intends to throw her. "Don't... don't do that... I don't know how to swim..." The sun had set long ago, but there is still a faint light reflecting on the sea's calm surface, as if the entire ocean has been coated with a layer of golden shimmer, shining brightly...

The bo… man in front of her was fit in all places which she couldn’t help but admire and his height and sea green eyes were the cherries on top of the icing. “Who are you and why are you in here?” the boy opened his mouth to demand and just like that, the fantasy which Penn was in destroyed. She used the back of her hand to wipe her mouth in case she had done something humiliating like drool for him, she will never forgive herself if she did. “I should be asking you that.” Penn said and cleared her throat in irritation. She sounded a little too breathy for her liking. “Do you know who I am?” The man… Boy's eyelid twitched in disbelief as Penn mentally reduced the way she saw him.

Still, I kept getting this strange sense of familiarity, like I had experienced something similar before, though I couldn't quite place it. Afterward we were done, Henry helped remove my blindfold. Seeing him drenched in sweat finally eased the lingering unease in my heart, and I smiled happily. "Thanks, honey." I leaned over and kissed his cheek. Henry grinned. "Wanna go down to the beach tonight?" "Sure." I nodded immediately. The nighttime ocean in Solmere was something I had always wanted to see. People said the sea at night felt completely different from daytime. That evening, Henry handed me a swimsuit.

"fight the sea. We cannot fight the sea. Many have tried… and failed. There are only two options when it comes to the sea, you either learn to breathe under it… or you drown." "yeah, so you brought us here to drown, sir?" Jason asked and I smiled, knowing that Jason was well on the brink of losing cool. "No sir. I asked you and your friends to come to find a way to appease it, that way it can leave us alone." the man said empathically. "appease it? Oh please. You know what? Just come back in two hours. They are sleeping, and I'd like to go back to sleep too. In two hours we'll be strong enough to come visit the sea and appease it or whatever."

A steady, authoritative voice came through. "Mr. Thorne?" "Shark Vanguard," I said, my tone flat and emotionless, "clear Crescent Bay. Now."

I say to him and he growls as he clutches his hair in frustration and I just watch him as he releases his anger on the wall. I look back at the screen and turn in the chair to look out over the calm waters and feel my heart clench. I stand as Carter destroys the room and head out towards the beach. I walk and feel the cool breeze against the exposed skin of my arms. Wiggling my toes in the wet sand, I just stand there and look out, hoping to see them. Not even a damn ripple. I sigh as I walk the length of the private beach. The government and the military have condemned my people and the fishing companies have grabbed at it. I move towards a rock and sit down, with my feet dipping in and out

“You don’t look like it.” “I have a really bad feeling bro.” “Me to.” “Are our men stationed all over and ready if anything goes down?” “They are.” “Good.” The boat pulled in and the ramps came down and the shipment was being unloaded as we heard gunshots. We were all alert as the shipment continued to be brought down to the dropping off bay. The gunshots continued as the last of it was placed down and the ramps were lifted and the boat pulled away. The shots came to a stop. We all looked at the four men who were coming towards us. They had firearms and walked like ten men fucking great. The Hemmings. That’s all I need.