Eugene crept across the dune, concealing his bulky form behind clumps of sea grass. The roar of the ocean waves crashing against the shore masked his heavy breathing. Gritty sand trickled inside his loose tennis sneaker. He ignored it and smiled.

There now, he’d moved even closer. Now he was within ten feet of them. The view here was so much better. Tonight’s full moon was an added bonus. It illuminated the beach, yet provided many shadowy hiding places. The young couple didn’t even suspect that he lurked here. He’d waited for hours in the hot, muggy night, watching, like always.

Summer was the best time of year for watching. During the day, nubile young women came to the beach and sprawled out in tiny string bikinis that exposed more flesh than they covered. He loved going to the beach and seeing all that tan, taut skin baking in the blazing sun. The college girls half his age basked in the heat, tanning every inch of their almost-naked bodies.

Nighttime was fun, too. Every night, he strolled up and down the beach, listening to the wild parties taking place inside the summer beach houses. These were parties for the young, popular people; parties he’d never be invited to. But years of watching had taught him that couples left the parties and got naked at the water’s edge. Cold ocean waves splashed against their bodies, and damp sand clung to bare flesh. He watched them, all of them, from his secret place.

He turned his attention back to the couple on the blanket and focused on the curvy young girl.

“You don’t think it’s creepy being out here like this?” she asked her date.

Eugene licked his cracked lips and held his breath. After what had happened last month, would the girl get scared and insist that they leave? If so, could the boy convince her to stay? He checked his watch in the moonlight. It was a few minutes before twelve. The couple had been drinking beers and talking for almost an hour. He’d hate for them to leave now, before he got to see. He strained to hear their words over the crashing waves.

“I mean, jeez Stan, two people were murdered over there.” The girl turned her head toward the dunes. “What the--? I thought I saw something.”

Eugene froze. The girl had looked right in his direction and stared straight at him, almost as if she knew he was watching. After a second, he relaxed a little and smiled. He didn’t have to worry about getting caught tonight. His powers were at their peak during the full moon. Everyone believed what they saw on television and thought that the full moon brought out lunatics and werewolves, or that it caused madness in the mentally deranged. But he knew better.

The moon gave him the ability to vanish at will. Cloaked in its pale light, he could slip into the shadows and come and go as he pleased. His moon powers had proved themselves last summer when the police almost caught him lurking on the dune behind the ladies’ shower.

Eugene felt a bead of sweat trickle down his back. So much of the game involved waiting. What if something went wrong? What if Lisa saw his wire-framed glasses reflected in the moonlight? That happened on television all the time---that’s how people got caught. He removed his glasses and tucked them into his shirt pocket. They were really only for driving. He could still see clearly.

Stan tilted the beer can to his lips. “You’re just jumpy because of the stories in the newspaper. Now you’re seeing things. Don’t be afraid, Lisa.” Stan rubbed Lisa’s bare arm. “I’ll protect you. Don’t worry, you’re safe with me here.”

“But we’re not even supposed to be out on the beach. It’s so… deserted. You didn’t tell anyone we came out here, did you? If the cops catch us…” she trailed off.

“No, I didn’t tell anyone. Nobody saw us leave the party, either.” Stan trailed his hand down Lisa’s back. “Just relax. I’m here to protect you.” He nuzzled her neck. “Besides, it’s better to be alone. We wouldn’t want anyone to interrupt us, would we?”

Lisa leaned forward and kissed Stan’s bare chest. He let out a deep groan.

“No, of course not. I just said it was creepy, that’s all. Those other kids were out here having a good time and they got ripped apart by some maniac,” she said.

Eugene grinned. Did the thrill of danger excite Lisa? He’d read stories about women getting all hot and bothered when they were afraid. He knew first-hand that the risk of discovery always increased the titillation of watching.

“Nah, it wasn’t a person. The cops said it was some kind of an animal. Probably a wild dog or a coyote from the hills.” Stan shrugged and sipped his beer. “But that was last month. It’s over.”

“The newspaper said their throats were ripped open. The police warned people about being out on the beach at night, and they even set up a curfew. They wouldn’t do that if they weren’t worried.”

Eugene nodded. Lisa was right. All the radio stations had warned residents about being on the beach at night. He’d been following the story closely. Once a month, for the past three months, people had been found dead on the beach.

The first killing had occurred about two miles away. A man was found with his throat torn out. Last month’s murders happened near here. A couple was discovered ripped to pieces.

He’d been out on the beach that night, watching a couple down near Waltman’s Cove. Everyone along the beachfront was worried, and people were extra cautious about leaving their homes at night.

He had barely gotten out of the house tonight himself. Mother had tried to prevent him from leaving. She didn’t like him “wandering around” at night anymore. She wanted him inside so she could keep an eye on him. Mother even tried to ‘guilt’ him into staying by saying that something bad would happen if he left. He refused to listen to any more of her whining. After all, tonight was a full moon.

Mother never understood that he had to come out and watch, especially during the hot, steamy nights. The beach was deserted in the winter, and he was forced to stay inside with Mother watching inane television programs until she went to bed.

But as soon as she was asleep, he’d creep down into his tiny basement room and stare at the dirty magazines he’d picked out of the neighbor’s trash. These beautiful blue-eyed women liked him. They didn’t laugh at him or call him a disgusting pervert. He envisioned the big-breasted women smiling and inviting him to rub them. When he touched himself, he imagined it was their hands wandering all over his body, urging him on.

The women on the beach were the same way. They enjoyed putting on a show. One night he’d reveal himself to a girl and she’d invite him to touch her…

The sound of Stan’s voice snapped him back to reality.

“Don’t worry, I know how to take your mind off of everything.”

Eugene watched Stan caress Lisa’s breasts through her T-shirt before pulling her down on top of him. Eugene slid his hand across the growing bulge in his shorts and bit his bottom lip. He wanted to be Stan, to be lucky enough to touch Lisa. He’d never had a real girl. When he tried to talk to girls on the beach, they laughed in his face---or worse, called him a stuttering old creep.

His heart pounded wildly as he watched them undress. Lisa’s body covered Stan’s and she bent her head over his neck. This was it! They were going to do it!

Eugene closed his eyes. The sound of waves crashing along the beach filled his ears. He reached down past the elastic waistband of his shorts and started stroking himself.

Stan moaned loudly, then let out a little cry. Eugene worked himself faster. He ached to see Lisa’s naked body writhing in the moonlight, but forced himself to wait a few more seconds, it wasn’t time yet.

A piece of driftwood snapped in front of him. Eugene opened his eyes. His hand stopped moving. Lisa stood before him, topless.

He gawked at her naked breasts, then stared at her face. She was transforming into some kind of animal. Fresh blood was smeared across her pointed snout. Clumps of sand mixed with blood were matted in her hair. Her lips were drawn back in a snarl, revealing sharp yellow canines.

He tried to scream, but only emitted a feeble squeak. The creature clamped a clawed hand around his throat. He glanced across the beach as he kicked and struggled. Stan lay motionless on the blanket. A dark liquid was seeping into the sand around his body.

Eugene closed his eyes.

He didn’t want to see any more.

Did you think that Eugene was the monster in this little vignette? Be honest. Well, in a way, I guess you’re right. He was a monster—just not the worst one on this particular beach. Or maybe he was just a pathetic loser. Monster? Loser? You decide. And I hope you decide to comment on our BBS. -GM