Satyrs At Dusk ✔

Chapter One

Malachite eyes tiredly skimmed over lists of new surfboards for sale. His current one wasn't too bad, but it definitely needed replaced soon. He'd been using it for two years.

The sunlight flooded his bedroom. Christmas lights were still strung to his walls. He sighed and pushed a curl of reddish blond hair out of his face. His bed was as much of a mess as his desk, he noticed, as a vintage radio played tunes from the early 80's in the corner of his window sill. He bobbed his head to the music every time it came on. His room was filled with warm fiery tones, and he liked it that way.

He wanted to go surfing again, but he'd already done his practice today. Or rather he just wanted to visit the beach and feel the cold water lap against his ankles. Draywaki Bay was the perfect place for him; dead. It was quiet and lonely, allowing his thoughts to run astray.

Rising from his bed of wrinkled covers and flattened pillows, he threw his phone to the mattress. As he went to grab his pair of year-old sandals, he heard someone calling for him.

"Hey, Max!" a female voice shouted from outside of his bedroom door. He scoffed. His sister, Myra, only three years older than him, was a hassle. All she ever did was skateboard with her friends and chow down on junk food. Unlike Max, she actually had a good taste in music.

"What?!" he called back. He pulled off his hoodie and threw on a Thrasher muscle shirt, opening his door with a shaky creak. Considering the long silence after his response, Myra didn't hear him. "What do you want?!" he belted outside of his bedroom door.

"Come here, you moron!"

He rolled his eyes. He stomped forward and trampled down the stairs. The living room was a mess, thanks to the woman who was sprawled out over the couch. Myra had her hair up in a messy bun, same color as Maxwell's, and she had a crumpled bag of salt and vinegar chips by her bony hip.

"What now?" her brother fumed. She threw a handful of chips into her mouth and said something muffled, to which Maxwell dragged a hand down his forehead.

"Mmf -aha- hhaha," Myra laughed, almost spitting the food at Maxwell. Once she finished, she cleared her throat. "Can you pass me the remote?"

"Really." he deadpanned.

"Yeah. It's over there." She pointed a finger to the coffee table, which was only a few feet from her. It sat next to her controller and a few miscellaneous discs for her console.

"But- but it's right there. You can just lean over and get it," Maxwell hissed.

"Give it to me or I'll leave this place for you to clean. I know you don't have the patience for that."

"Mom can get it for you. I'm not your servant." He went to turn around when Myra spoke up.

"How about I tell mom that you-"

"Okay, fine! Just shut the fuck up, all right?"

_

After bickering with Myra for a while, Maxwell decided to hit the beach, even though he already had his share of the waves today. He just wanted to be out in the sun; to feel the rays glaze over him.

With the sand below his back and between his toes, the tide rose as the sun sunk, fresh water lapping gently at his legs. His board lay beside him, wax turned up to soften in the sunlight.

He'd been wanting to re-wax the board before it broke under his feet. As he bathed in the sun's dulling rays, something caught the corner of his eye. He turned his head, leaning up to get a better view.

Just when he thought it was nothing, a form appeared briefly. He only caught a glimpse before it faded out again; it looked like a person, but the bottom half of the body was covered in... Tan? Brown? It was a strange color, ranging between blond and tea colored.

"Hello?" he called out. He knew he wasn't supposed to do that under any circumstances, but he couldn't help it. Nothing but the quiet wind followed. The feeling that his call didn't fall upon deaf ears ebbed in his mind.

"I know you're here," he tried again. He felt the wind shift. An obvious presence was nearby, and it spun his body into full-on paranoia when he saw nothing.

The prickling sensation of eyes on him was unbearable. He huffed and brushed off the sand from his arms. "Look, I'm not a threat... if that's what you're wondering."

He definitely wasn't going crazy. The way the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end wasn't normal.

However there was no answer except a lonely, dead silence that lingered in the air. His mind couldn't pull away from the fact that someone was there. He could feel it, a gaze gnawing at him.

"Uh," he started, "My name is Maxwell. I'm 23." He felt the eyes waver. Their gaze flicked back to him instantly, and then the presence released a weight from his shoulders. He no longer felt the tingle on his skin.

There was nothing but the shushed sluicing of the water that rolled against his legs. A cold shiver ran down his spine as he just realized the sun was beginning to set.

How long had he been out here?

_

"Okay so I had the craziest time at the beach today," Maxwell threw his surfboard onto the couch and slipped out of his sandals, looking at Myra intently. His sister glanced up from her phone and moved the device from her face, eyes now tracked on Maxwell.

"Spill the beans," she demanded, stretching out on the couch. Her  hair was sprawled out behind her, a tangled mess. She extended her leg and prodded at her brother's face with her big toe.

"Your feet smell like fish," Maxwell shoved away her foot and she cackled.

"Excuse me but you were the one with your feet in the ocean."

He shook his head and sat down next to the girl, looking at her with a serious expression. "Actually. No fun and games this time. I saw something on the shore. It wasn't a hallucination, and I'm sure as hell that thing wasn't human. It flickered! What does that?!"

"Uh... Light..?"

"Yeah, but it took a form, like a person. It looked like a person! I couldn't get a good enough look. I've gone to that beach for so many years and I've never seen anything like that before." He moved crazily with his hands and he almost smacked Myra's leg in the process.

"Okay don't get your panties in a bunch... Maybe you were just seeing things." She shrugged, leaning up on her elbows.

"But I know what I saw. It was a person, but the lower part was... It was like,," he paused, trying to form words, "it looked like... like fur.." His voice trailed off into a dramatic whisper, to which his sister let out the ugliest cackle.

"Yeah, and I have a penis." she rubbed Maxwell's shoulder, eyes filling with amusement. "Seriously, nobody's legs are hairier than yours."

"Myra!" he gasped, "I'm being serious. That... thing, wasn't a normal person."

"Well... Just wait and see if they're there tomorrow." She told him with a soft smile. All jokes and fights aside, she was a good sister.

Maxwell was thankful for that.

__