Marcus Woolley is an independent author from Wales in the United Kingdom. He is currently living in Taiwan, teaching English to children and teenagers. Marcus has always enjoyed the weird and scary, which is the reason why he went into telling tales within the horror genre. His first book that he publish was a romantic dystopian novel called ‘Love in Dystopia’. Later he published a novella called ‘The Vampire Upstairs: A Welsh Horror as well as many other horror related short stories. He started noticing his passion for writing when he was in school, he remembered writing a war story that he showed to his English teacher at the time, it was never supposed to be graded by the examiner but the teacher sent it through and got a good grade. Later on he started writing travel blogs of his adventures around Wales, Morocco and Bangladesh. Marcus got into reading through tales of other people’s adventures, but with no time and money in his younger years to go on an epic adventure, he settled for the horror genre. He will continue to write more stories in the future. He is currently writing a horror novel called ‘The Secrets of Room 13.’
You can read more from Marcus right HERE.
SHOOTER ON THE SHORE
by
Marcus Wooley
The summer was hot in Louisiana, the humid climate caused the skin to be sticky and throats to be dry, and a constant swabbing of mosquitoes as they delicately sit on you ready to feast. Three teenagers from the local town, a short five minutes drive found themselves sitting on a small fishing boat, borrowed by Brad’s dad. The other two teenagers were Casey who has been Brad’s long-term girlfriend for two years and Casey’s younger sister Grace, who had tagged along as the girl's parents are out of town for two days.
The calypso trees that dot the shore stood side by side, their lower thick trunks blocking any view of the snake-infested grassy bank. A splash could be heard as if something slid into the water from the far side, scaring Grace. “What is that?” Grace yelped. “That's probably them alligators,” Brad replied, arm around Casey, jugging on a refreshing tin of Rolling Rock beer, which he found in his dad’s garage. Though the legal age to drink is twenty-one, there was no one about in this wild part of the state, laws could easily be broken and no one would ever know about it. “What should I play next?” Casey asked, flipping through the downloaded songs on her cell phone, “Do you have any Colter Wall songs?” Brad replied, trying to catch a glimpse of the screen. Grace went to grab one of the tins of beer, Casey tapped her with her foot rather sharply, “You’re too young Grace, I don’t want you with beer on your breath.”
Clicking sounds of twigs snapping could be heard from the shoreline behind Brad, he tilted his head backwards trying to catch a look at the animal causing the ruckus. Before any of the three teenagers knew it a loud echo of a fired rifle seemed to linger, but the shot seemed too close for comfort, it caused Grace to scream as her eyes searched the trees. “It’s probably a hunter,” Casey said to calm her sisters' nerves. A second firing shot resonated across the lake as the water near their boat splashed up onto them. The three teenagers quickly took cover at the lowest part of the small boat. “Watch it, you almost got us?” Brad shouted out to the supposed hunter. A third shot was heard, followed by a ding as the bullet bounced off the side of the boat. “They’re shooting at us!” Grace cried, clinging to the arm of her protective elder sister.
Brad wanted to see where the shooter was coming from, he slightly raised his head just above the side of the boat, he could see nobody, whoever was doing it was probably in the thick of bush in camouflaged gear, which is quite common for the men who live within a stone's throw of the area. A fourth shot whizzed past Brad, hitting his left ear clean off. “Ah, he got me!” Brad held onto his deformed ear that was pulsating blood. Casey grabbed hold of her T-shirt from the bench and held it hard against Brad’s throbbing ear. “We need to get out of here!” Casey shouted. The lake was connected to a creek which was the way back to Brad’s home. “If I try and move the boat, he will probably take another shot at me.”
A fifth shot is heard, once again hitting the side of the boat. The three of them huddled together, waiting for more shots to come, they could hear nothing as they baked in the hot Louisiana sun. “It’s been about ten minutes now,” Grace said. She was still attempting to get hold of the police but the signal had no bars. Brad, whose macho attitude had dwindled away long ago nervously lifted his head once again. There was complete silence, apart from the swamp critters that seemed to be getting louder now the music was off and the gunfire had come to a halt. Brad went over to the engine at the back of the boat, he tugged at the string to start the engine, whilst looking over his shoulder at the thick trees. A second pull, followed by a third. The engine didn’t start. Bang. The shot bounced off the water near the engine, Brad jumped back onto the floor, and he landed on the two girls almost crushing Grace’s smaller frame. “I think I know that gun, it sounds awfully familiar. I think it is a Creedmoor Hunter rifle. I think it only holds five bullets at a time,” Casey explained. With only four bullets remaining, that is still enough to kill them all. He tried to tug the engine string once again, this time lower down. Eventually, the engine did start and the boat started moving forward, in the direction of the shooter, Brad quickly grabbed hold of the stick and change course heading towards the creek, but it was too difficult to drive the boat blindly, afraid to lift his head in case it got shot off his shoulders.
As the boat moved further away from the spot in the center of the lake and headed towards the creek, the shooter released the last four bullets, hitting the boat, the last one bounced off the top of the engine. “Are you sure it is only five bullets?” Brad shouted over the noise of the engine. “I think so, but I am not sure.” Brad risked it and held his head up over the bow of the boat, he could see the opening to the creek up ahead, no more bullets flung passed them, they were safe.
Casey and Grace held onto each other whilst Brad steered the boat. Grace cried into her elder sister's chest. Brad and Casey stared at each other, both with fright in their eyes. All of them made it safely back to Brad’s, docking the boat at the little wooden pier. The police were eventually called, but no tracks could be found.