Henry woke up with a scream of terror. He felt across his chest and found no harpoon there. The pain was gone, but he could still feel a lingering ache, like a phantom sensation. His eyes drifted up. Those strange nebulas made swirling colors still filled the sky. He was back in the center of that circular street. It hadn't been a dream. Henry slowly got to his feet.

"Oh, he's here, guys," a female voice said from behind him.

Henry spun around and found three people lounging on the street behind him. Two men and a woman. Thinking back to that horrible fisherman and the spear in his gut, Henry did the only thing he thought was smart. He ran.

Now it can be noted that Henry wasn't exactly in the best headspace. Try putting yourself in his shoes. Who am I kidding? If you're reading this, you are probably in his shoes. For all Henry knew, these seemingly normal people were monsters just waiting for the chance to kill him. Just like the fisherman with the harpoon.

On the surface, running may have been a good idea, but Henry wasn't exactly paying attention to where he ran in his panic. Before he knew it, he was surrounded by the familiar, quaint buildings of Brightshore. He was back in the seaside town where he had died the day before.

As soon as he realized where he was, he turned to run back the way he came. Only he wasn't alone. The three people had followed him. The man on the right seemed to be out of breath.

"Jesus man, what are you, a track star?" He said.

The man was young with shaggy brown hair. He wore a plain hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.

"I think you're just out of shape, Stevey," the woman said.

She had mousey blonde hair that fell to her shoulders and wore a pair of retro-looking glasses. She peered nervously at Henry. The last man had dark, straight hair and wore a leather jacket with jeans. Even though he looked to be in his twenties, there was something mature about him. All three of them looked right out of a bad 80s movie.

"Are y'all real?" Henry asked unsure.

"Y'all? He's a cowboy." The one named Stevey said.

The other man rolled his eyes at the comment.

"Yes, we're real. You're okay now. You don't have to run. We're not going to hurt you," The man on the left said.

"Alright," Henry said nervously.

He made a point of not letting his guard down. He didn't trust these people. He wasn't sure they weren't going to hurt him too. Stevey flashed him a wide smile.

"That was legendary, mate. You should have seen yourself! You just stood there and took it like a champ. Ah! There's a harpoon in my chest. Classic. And then you ran from the normal people. Are you crazy or something?" Stevey asked.

"No. At least, I don't think so. With all this, who knows?" Henry answered.

Stevey laughed as if that answer were a funny joke. He seemed to think the humor was apparent. Henry hadn't intended it to be a joke, but beyond that, Henry didn't think any of this was funny. In fairness, he was probably too confused and frightened to find anything funny. As an objective viewer far removed, I can attest that there was a bit of dark humor to be found in the situation. At least Henry was not alone in his distaste for the joke.

"It's not funny, Stevey," The mousey blonde girl with glasses chided, "It must have been terrifying for him."

"Lighten up, Chelsey. Everything's funny, especially a new guy in Paradise getting axed after asking a Ghost Story for directions."

Henry was confused and becoming increasing annoyed by their bickering. He kept waiting for them to explain something or tell him where they were. But they never did. Eventually, he got fed up.

"Can someone explain just what the hell is going on?" Henry asked with frustration seeping into his voice.

"Right, Sorry. I'm Chelsey. The annoying one is Stevey, and he's Mark," She gestured to the man in the leather jacket and said, "You woke up here, right. You're probably confus-"

She was cut off by a whistle that sounded in the air. Mark looked up at a nearby building. Another woman was there, waving her hands in the air. When she had Mark's attention, she made a series of hand gestures.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"Shit," Mark muttered.

"What?" Henry asked.

"Undertow is coming back. I thought we'd have more time."

"Who's Undertow?"

"The fisherman," Chelsey answered.

"He's coming back?"

"Relax. Undertow is not an issue," Stevey said with a laugh.

"The harpoon in my chest would disagree," Henry said.

"We'll head home," Mark declared, "No need for a fight. He's new, Stevey."

"Sure, I guess you're right," Stevey relented.

Another whistle sounded in the air. This one had a strange cadence. A frown grew across Mark's face.

"Too late. Hide in the alley," he said.

They did as he ordered. All of them slid into the shadows of a nearby alley. It was narrow and barely fit them all. They must have looked like a bunch of sardines packed in can made of bricks and concrete.

As they crouched in the shadows of the alley, Henry could hear the wet rasping breath of the fisherman growing closer. He watched in horror as the monster came shambling past the entrance to the alley. The fraying rope was still tied around his broken neck, and the harpoon drug on the street behind him. As the fisherman walked, it filled the air with the sound of metal scraping stones. As he passed, water flowed down his bloated body to coat the street in puddles. It seemed to be pouring out of every inch of his body. It never turned its head toward them or heard their breathing. It just continued on as if they weren't there.

After Undertow had passed the alley completely, they waited five minutes before the woman on the roof whistled again. As soon as she did, the others stood from the shadows and trotted back to the main road without fear.

"I thought he would see us," Henry remarked.

"Old Undertow is as blind as a bat. He doesn't see shit. It's the knight you really have to look out for. Real keen that one, even with that helmet of his," Stevey answered.

"The knight?" Henry asked.

"Oh yeah. Real big guy, all decked out in armor. Nasty character."

A knight in armor? Did that mean there were more creatures like the fisherman? Henry felt the shiver run down his spine. He didn't even want to think about what other sorts of things could be lurking in this place.

Before he could ask more questions, they were moving down the street. Henry briefly considered making a run for it again, but decided against it. They seemed to know what they were doing. He had no choice but to follow them.

They traveled down the empty street until they reached a beach. There, the woman from the roof met them. She had long, dark hair and bright green eyes. Henry had never seen eyes so green in his life. Just like the others, she looked to be in her early twenties. In her right hand, she held a long metal rod. On closer inspection, Henry realized it was a harpoon, just like the one the fisherman carried. When she joined the group, she reached out a hand. Henry awkwardly took it.

"I thought Stevey was full of shit. But here you are. You're real. What's your name?"

Henry realized he hadn't given it yet.

"I'm, uh, Henry. Henry Becker."

"I'm Grace. Let me be the first to say I'm sorry."

"For what?"

She flashed him a knowing look.

"That you're here, kid. But there's nothing to be done about it. No use crying over spilled milk, right? Mark, we taking him back to the cave?"

"That's the idea." Mark answered.

"Sounds good. Lead the way."

Grace seemed to ooze confidence. Somehow, Henry felt a bit better now that she had joined them. She seemed competent in a way the others didn't. Except for maybe Mark. There was something about him that Henry couldn't read.

The other two he felt he had a good understanding of from his brief interactions with them. The other girl, Chelsey, seemed quiet, maybe even nervous around Henry. If he had to guess, she was shy. Still, he'd occasionally catch her studying him. It seemed more than just curiosity; it was almost like she was looking for something. Henry didn't know what it was.

The one called Stevey was basically the opposite. He was loud and boisterous. He spoke with a British accent, which meant he must have been from England. It seemed like he was always making a joke. In fact, he was actively regaling Grace with the apparently hilarious story of Henry's death.

"The guy asked Undertow for help. Walked right up to him and everything. That's got to be a new one, right? I don't think any of us have ever asked a Ghost Story for help."

"I seem to remember Undertow sticking his harpoon in you three months ago. It happens to the best of us. He's new, Stevey. Give him a break. He'll learn the ropes. I remember when you were new," Grace said.

"Ya, don't remind me."

For about a mile or so, they walked across the sandy beach until they reached a gray stone cliff. A wide cave entrance was carved into its side. They lead Henry inside.

Henry was surprised to find the cave lit by electrical lights. What seemed to be large Christmas lights ran across the roof of the cave, illuminating the floor. The cave was a relatively narrow corridor that led straight back. Shortly into the cave, they came to a ramshackle wall made from salvaged wood. Above a simple door, a sign reading Days Without Death hung. A whiteboard nailed into the wall next to it had the number 84 scribbled in messy handwriting.

"What happened 84 days ago?" Henry asked.

"Stevey bet us that he could swim from one end of the pier to the other without Undertow getting him," Chelsey explained.

"And what happened?"

"Undertow got him."

She laughed at the comment.

"Hey, I was bloody close to that dock. Next time, I'll get it for sure." Stevey declared.

"Whatever you say, funny man. I bet even without Undertow, you wouldn't make it," Mark said.

"Yeah, it's funny now. But you won't be laughing when I climb onto that pier."

"Stevey's right. No one would be laughing if he was there," Chelsey said.

These people seemed nice, even if this place didn't. It was a relief. He let his guard down slightly, but only slightly. He couldn't escape the feeling that there would be some sort of monster like the Fisherman waiting for him inside. He was more right than he knew.