Blood Melon

I stand on the beach, feeling the corse sand between my toes. It’s a relaxing feel, the sand. It almost makes me forget the horrible thing that happened to me. Almost.

I was getting out of my car, expecting a peaceful day. I was going to go get some fresh watermelon in the patch in my back yard. I love water melon, the luxurious sweet taste of the sticky juice dribbling down my chin on a hot day. The satisfying sound it makes when I bite into it. I love it all, even the seeds. Especially the seeds. The seeds make it so I can grow more watermelon. I thought I was safe in my back yard. I will never make that assumption again. That day, I took a few steps on my soft, green grass before I saw something move in the corner of my eye. It’s just the neighbors cat. I tell myself. I can’t help but to look anyways. I turn my head in the direction of where I saw the movement, nothing was there. A few moments later, I see something move again, almost to the place where my peripheral vision wouldn’t have seen it. I turn my head, still nothing. Stop being paranoid. I tell myself. I make it to my watermelons, smiling widely at how they have grown. I the scissors out of my pocket and cut the stem, rolling the watermelon away and excited to cutting it open. The only problem was, when I picked it up, it didn’t feel right. It felt odd, almost as if there wasn’t a solid on the inside, but a liquid.

“Duh, it’s a watermelon.” I made this joke aloud, which isn’t such a big deal except for I heard a slight laugh. Panic took full force. I swing around, but not quick enough. A large hand hits me across the face, sending my watermelon and me to the ground. The watermelon splatters to the left and sprays me with a warm, red liquid. What is this? Blood. It’s blood that was in my watermelon. I looked up and saw a monster. A big black figure that had long black claws that reached the floor.

“Please...” I whisper.

I got no pity from the monster, only razor sharp claws that rip my chest open and tear out my heart.

Now I’m here, standing at the beach, listening to the waves roll by. No, I am not alive. My life was short, only 22 years but now I get to stand here without a heartbeat, without a breath, listening to the ocean waves and feeling the corse sand between my toes.