Sandy Creek

By Trina Ward

Something evil dwells in and around Sandy Creek. There have been numerous sightings of a Creature that remains a mystery in the unsuspecting town located along the Gulf Coast. Murders, attacks as well as odd mishaps all take place within the Sandy Creek area. Preston, his girlfriend Shayne, his best friend Aaron and Kimberly will encounter something beyond their wildest imaginations. Nothing could ever prepare them for what they find. The answer is within the truth, but the truth may not exactly set them free.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Whiskey Creek Press
• Release date: Oct 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781611606485

Book preview

SANDY CREEK

by

TRINA M. WARD

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Published by

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

Whiskey Creek Press

PO Box 51052

Casper, WY 82605-1052

www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Copyright Ó 2013 by Trina M. Ward

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

ISBN: 978-1-61160-648-5

Cover Artist: Molly Courtright

Editor: Carol Malcolm

Printed in the United States of America

Dedication

I am dedicating this to my family. They are everything I have. Some have always been by me while others have been with me in spirit. My mom and dad are the inspiration in everything I do. I take their stories to heart and am doing what I think would make them proud. I wish they were here to see me fulfill my lifelong dreams.

One day we will get the chance to meet again but until that day I will keep living my life to the fullest. I will continue telling the world about the things they shared with me. I will stop at nothing to complete my mission.

I would like to give a special thank you to Ashley for listening to me while I worked through the kinks and rough drafts. Thanks for always giving me your true feelings on my stories even though I know you are not exactly fond of the paranormal and suspense genres.

One day I will be able to read you one of my books and it won’t have to be done strictly during the day time. It might not be filled with rainbows and butterflies but it will be taken down a few levels as far as the fear factor is concerned.  It will all come together in the end.

A big thanks to John Scott, Marie Ward, Wendy Bailey, Lucas Briones, Javan Nettles, AJ Reinhardt, Dawn Nettles, Jocelyn (Josi) Bruja Torres, Myrtle Jones, Stephanie & Brian Slack, Theresa Sandell & Nick Smith, Beverly, Amy Shambach, Adam Carroll, Tony Sims, Donna Johnson, Brittany Raffield, Melissa Griffin Haire, Daniel Day, Robert Kittsmiller & Sonya  Kittsmiller, Vicki Wade, Travis Wade, Richard & Stacy Alford and Diane Pierce for supporting me at my first book signing for The Martin House and pushed me to keep writing.

Chapter 1: Discovering the Bodies

Sandy Creek—it’s all in the name. For the longest time it was regarded as a small town watering hole and nothing more. The murky creek consisted of brownish water surrounded by a sandy marsh-type perimeter. The bay’s water would crest, causing the waterway to overflow. The excess water would then drain for miles and feed into the hidden creek. The small cove was nestled in a secluded and extremely wooded area on the outskirts of town.

There were those living in town that may have heard the name Sandy Creek but never knew of its exact location. It was almost as if it was tucked away like a dirty little secret. If you didn’t know of its precise whereabouts you would probably never find it. The creek’s water was muddy and stagnant, causing it to have a distinctive odor similar to a sewage drain-off. There was also an abundance of mosquitoes and sand gnats.

Every town has secrets, but Panama City had more than its fair share. I can personally guarantee you that there was something going on behind the community’s back. I take a risk getting it out in the open, and hope I live to tell about it.

The road leading to the creek had small trails leading only a few feet into the woods. That was where trucks would back off of the road and into the bushes to abandon their appliances, furniture and other large items. That’s why most people who knew about the creek only considered it to be another place to dump their trash.

Most teenagers thought of it as a secret spot to do their under-age drinking and other illegal recreational drugs. That’s pretty much the reputation the creek was cursed with. Those preconceived notions ended with a story announced on the news. It was definitely one that would rock the community like no other in its history.

There was a group of friends who went to Sandy Creek and it would prove to be the biggest mistake they would ever make. The old cliché curiosity killed the cat fit this circumstance to a tee. They would never be seen again—alive, that is.

It was, to say the least, unclear why they made their late-night visit to the creek. No one knows the answer as to what really happened, but it is definitely something that has been asked thousands of times. I know I have made the inquiry over and over with guilt weighing heavily on my heart. There could be no answer found, and the need to know would never be soothed.

The truth behind their intentions was more than a mystery. The feelings that stirred within my inner core couldn’t let it be. I can honestly say with conviction the answers would be nothing anyone could have ever been prepared for.

God knows I wasn’t.

The story starts like this:

It was six-thirty on a Monday morning and the local news was on the television. Joe Moore’s voice could be heard echoing throughout the house. He was somewhat of an icon when it came to reporting the news to the tri-state area. His voice was stern with a deep tone and his words were very articulated.

It was unfamiliar to see him disturbed by a news story, but it was apparent this one rattled his cage. His voice was shaky and it was obvious that he was uneasy over what he was announcing. It was almost like he was scared or confused.

I watched with intent as he began the report.

"We have some breaking news for you this morning. We need your help in identifying the bodies of five people found in Eastern Bay County just a short time ago.

"Two local fishermen, who have wished to remain anonymous, stumbled across the victims while heading out for a day of leisure.

"The identities of the deceased have not been released at this time, because their families have not been notified. The investigation is underway and we will give more details as we receive them.

"Furthermore, the authorities are asking anyone who has a friend or loved one that may be unaccounted for to call the Bay County Sherriff’s office. This is only a precautionary measure to rule them out.

The police are asking that if you know anything about these murders you can call 785-TIPS. You will remain anonymous and, as always, all calls are confidential.

It is etched in my mind like I heard it yesterday. It was a ritual to watch the news in the morning, but on that day it was a little more personal.

You see, my name is Preston James and Sarah, my sister, had gone missing Saturday night. That was two days prior to the announcement made by Joe Moore. The intense emotion running through me was enough to bring down an elephant. It was not only worry, sadness and fear, but I was also filled with an anger that wouldn’t subside.

Chapter 2: The Frantic Calls

The only thing I knew about Sarah’s plans for the weekend was that she was planning to stay at a friend’s house Friday night after attending a bonfire at the power lines. That was where the local rednecks went to hang out and drink. It was something I had attended in the past and it was pretty harmless. Most everyone that attended were friends and went to school together. Sarah told mom she would be home before curfew Saturday night.

One of my college friends told me he heard a rumor which claimed Sarah and her friends were trying to solve a mystery involving something they had heard about the creek. He couldn’t elaborate any further. He said it was only a rumor.

Sarah had never missed curfew before and she wasn’t what some people might consider to be a party animal. The fact that she was not home and she didn’t call by twelve o’clock definitely gave us cause to think something was wrong.

We all knew Sarah would never make us worry like that and it was nothing she had ever done before. We were fearful for the worse from the get-go.

It was a fluke I was at Mom and Dad’s that night. I had told Dad that I would help him with his surround sound. He couldn’t make the VCR stop flashing the incorrect time much less do anything like that. I was about to be done mounting the speakers on the wall when Mom asked if Sarah had returned home yet. My stomach dropped to the floor when I realized no one had heard from her in almost forty-eight hours.

Mom waited for a few minutes and then started calling her friends. It was 12:20 a.m. when she made the first call to Rachel, Sarah’s best friend. The two of them were inseparable. Some people mistook them for twins or siblings close in age. In fact, she looked more like Sarah than I did. Rachel had the tan of a surfer and was very thin in size. She could have been a professional model if she was into that kind of stuff. She was drop-dead gorgeous, to say the least.

Even with that said I was not attracted to her in a sexual way. She was like a kid sister to me. I mean I am a normal guy and all, but I had known Rachel all of her life. I had never looked at her like that. That’s just wrong.

She was extremely tall with long straight dirty blonde hair. She and Sarah were on the volleyball team together. What am I saying? They were also both on the basketball team, softball team and shared almost every class together.

The two of them were the same size with the exception of Rachel’s upper area, if you know what I mean. If I hadn’t watch her bloom into the beautiful young woman she was, I would probably have been the first to assume she may have had a boob job.

There wasn’t a day that went by that Sarah and Rachel didn’t see one another. Now I realize the importance of a conversation I had with my sister right before everything happened.

It was the Monday morning before she went missing and Sarah told me she had an argument with Rachel and they hadn’t spoken to one another in a few days.

Looking back, I should have known something was out of the ordinary. It was definitely not a regular occurrence within their sisterly relationship. Their friendship was one that most people wish they had.

I know they loved each other very much, but as with any friendship, they had their trials and tribulations. But their disagreements were never serious enough to risk losing their friendship. Their arguments or small disagreements were usually resolved within a few hours. They shared everything with one another and when I say everything, that’s exactly what I mean.

I remember walking in the kitchen and overhearing Sarah telling Rachel about her first kiss. She was only twelve. They were as tight as two people could be. Their friendship was untouchable and the foundation on which it was built was unshakeable.

I now feel as though I should have paid more attention to Sarah’s comments on Friday. She said things were a little bit off between her and Rachel. I was too busy with my internship and my own life to pay attention to what kind of trouble Sarah was getting into.

I had asked if Rachel was picking her up for school and she said, No, she still isn’t talking to me.

Just making conversation, I asked, What’s the matter? Did you two have a lover’s quarrel?

I was just picking on her and didn’t mean anything by it, but I guess it was more serious than just a simple difference of opinions.

Sarah said, I asked for her help and she said yes, but then she backed out. I told her she was a chicken-shit and she got mad.

Yeah, I should have known that was not how Sarah would normally act towards her. I think Rachel was trying to get out of going to the creek. I should have noticed the mood Sarah was in and how serious she was about the argument.

Actually, in retrospect, I can think of a lot of things that I should have noticed that were not quite right. I feel like I failed her as a brother and friend.

Rachel was more than just a good friend to Sarah. They were like sisters and planned to go to college together. They used to say they were going to get married and become neighbors. I overheard them talking in Sarah’s room, planning their double wedding when they were just starting high school. They shared a love that was unconditional and unbreakable.

Rachel was always extremely protective over Sarah and vice versa. Whether it was over something stupid like an argument with me or a disagreement with a schoolmate, Rachel was always the first to defend Sarah.

Mom and Dad were really good friends with Rachel’s parents, too. We always had weekend cookouts and family outings together. I can’t think of a single weekend we didn’t do something with the White’s. Shell Island was our home away from home in the summer. We would load up on the boat and spend the day on the island barbequing and swimming.

It was almost as if they were part of our extended family, because we saw more of them than of our actual blood relatives. I am not complaining by any means. Our families shared a bond that was hard to find. When Mrs. White realized neither Sarah nor Rachel had made it home she became as fearful as we were. She told Mom she would start making some calls and let us know if she found out anything.

The next friend of Sarah’s we tried to contact that night was Cassie. Her parents weren’t exactly going to be nominated for the parents of the year award, if you know what I mean. They were always traveling and leaving Cassie home alone. It had been like that since the day she was old enough to take care of herself.

Cassie was naïve and vulnerable to those who would take advantage of her. She lacked love in her life and there were some people who used that insecurity to gain whatever they could from her. Cassie was a petite and attractive young woman, but she didn’t possess one ounce of self-confidence.

She belittled herself and always said things like she hated her red hair or thought she was overweight. I think she was reaching out for acceptance from anyone, especially her mom and dad. They showed her no attention, good or bad. She felt like she wasn’t wanted and often wondered if they felt like she was a mistake. There is nothing more hurtful than thinking you were an unplanned child.

Needless to say, when we called Cassie’s house there was no answer. The automated voice on the other end of the phone stated both of her parents were in Paris for two months.

Why would you announce something like that? I mean basically in a roundabout way it was telling people their seventeen-year-old daughter would be left home alone. People just don’t think sometimes and really have no idea how their actions may affect others. It was either lack of parenting skills or they just didn’t give a flying rat’s ass.

Cassie was a genuinely nice girl, but she tried too hard to be something she wasn’t. It was all a front to cover the fact that she was hurting inside and in need of some serious guidance. She wasn’t into any extracurricular or after-school activities. She had a lot of trouble passing classes and was definitely lacking the grades needed to graduate. She had turned into a bit of a wild child which had a negative impact on how people treated her.

There were numerous occasions when I would be driving through town in the middle of the day and see Cassie hanging out with older guys. She would be smoking, drinking and skipping school. Cassie’s parents were oblivious to the fact that she was crying out for their attention. It really seemed like they just didn’t care.

She couldn’t see the crowds she surrounded herself with for what they really were. They were nothing but trouble and were using her, if not for her money then for sex. Her parentless house was known for the parties that she would frequently have there. God only knows what all she was in to.

Next on the list of calls Mom made that night was to a girl that really didn’t respect my family too much. Her name was Gina. She was already finished with high school and she also happened to be my ex-girlfriend.

We dated for about a year and a half. She took the break up pretty bad even though it was mutual. She had issues and they were understandable. Gina made numerous calls to my cell phone in the wee hours of the morning. She never said anything when calling; she would just hold the phone in silence. I cared about her in the beginning, but it became almost impossible to be around her.

There was no one reason that we split up. We just wanted different things in life. She was not motivated when it came to what she wanted to do with herself in terms of a career. She dropped out of college after only three months. Gina was pretty and smart, but her attitude needed work.

She had long, dark brown hair and a fair complexion. I think she was part Indian, because she had a hellacious temper, and when she got mad she exploded. I think if she would have talked about her feelings instead of keeping them bottled up it would have been different.

We originally met in high school and at the time we started talking she had her priorities straight. I guess it was about two months after we started seeing one another that her mom passed away. It was unexpected. Gina quickly became withdrawn and it was understandable. I tried to be there for her, but she changed and became very unapproachable.

She had received a full academic scholarship to Florida State University and would have majored in history. I guess it was about six months after her mom’s death that she really started showing signs of an uncontrollable spiraling downfall. I couldn’t let