Internal Conflict (qs/f/fatal)

[MikeKK]

Another share from the other forum.

Internal Conflict

Only three people stood on the beach at the bottom of the grassy sand dunes on that early New England morning. A few ambitious joggers had passed by above the dunes, but other than that, the shore town slept, so the small huddle had the beach to themselves. Carlos, the photographer, fussed with the equipment. Cindy, the model, adjusted her baby-pink bikini and wiped gritty sand from her ankles for the hundredth time. Emily, the intern, bag-carrier, lens-changer, location scouter, and general errand-girl (whichever Carlos needed at the time), breathlessly handed out warm coffees and apologized for the delay.

Carlos dropped his duffel back and stabbed a tripod into the ground. He downed half his coffee in two gulps. “One more spot,” he promised. “Ems, can you get Cindy set up under the old pier?” He pointed at the wooden structure rising above the surf in the distance. “I wanna get some shots there, but I need a battery from the car.”

Emily saluted. “Sure thing, boss-man.”

Carlos climbed the dunes and disappeared. They’d had to park in town and walk—he would be a while. Emily and Cindy made their way to the pier. The sun poked shimmering fingers through the aging planks and speckled the timbers and beams with light. Water sizzled in and out in a lazy rhythm. Emily looked around, a slight grin tugging at her lip. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

She took Cindy’s unfinished coffee and set both cups in the sand. “Stand against that pillar and pretend I’m Carlos.”

Cindy grinned and struck a flattering pose against the sun-bleached wood. A ray of sun caught her auburn hair and lit it on fire.

“Holy crap,” said Emily as she feigned a camera with her fingers. “I wonder how many men bow at your front door every morning.”

Cindy rolled her eyes. “Trust me, it’s overrated.”

“Whatever.” Emily stepped up to Cindy with a coy smile. “Say, let’s try something for when Carlos gets back. Something new. Here, like this.” She guided Cindy’s body with her hands as she gave her instructions. “Shoulders against the pillar, just like that. Chin up, and chest out—not that much. Arms over your head…perfect.” She stepped back to get a better look. “Wow, you’re like some calendar goddess.”

“Is this the part where you snap more imaginary pictures?” Cindy asked. She kept the pose.

“No, not exactly.” Emily walked back toward Cindy, swaying her hips the way the model did in some of her clips. “I never said this was for the shoot.” She leaned in and locked her lips in Cindy’s mouth.

A breath caught in Cindy’s chest, and her eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t resist—not much, anyway—so Emily pushed her back against the wood pillar and ran her hands up and down the model’s lithe body. Then she pulled away.

Cindy stared at her. “What was that for?”

Emily shrugged. “I just wanted to know.” She tried to sound nonchalant, but her voice trembled with excitement.

“Know what?”

“Never mind.” Em circled around to the next wood pillar under the pier. “Carlos will be back before long, unless he’s tripped again. Why don’t you go over that little walk he always wants you to do for the camera?” Then she winked. “I won’t kiss you this time, I promise.”

Cindy looked doubtful, but she snapped back into model mode and took a few steps across the sand. Emily bit her lower lip, watching, and then it happened. Halfway to the second pillar, Cindy’s feet punched through the sand.

She stumbled forward. “Whoa! What the—?” Her legs slid into the thick sand up to her knees. “Great. Carlos will have a fit. The tide softened this place up too much, unless he’ll settle for a waist-up shot.”

“To be fair,” said Emily, “That’s all most people care about.”

Cindy glanced up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Another shrug. “Don’t worry about it. Come on, we’ll find a different spot farther up the pier.”

“I can’t.”

Emily stopped, trying ever so hard to keep a smile off her face. “Can’t what?”

“I can’t get out,” said Cindy. “The sand is too tight around my calves. Hang on a minute…my knees just went under.” She frowned. “What’s happening to me?”

Emily grabbed her coffee cup from the ground. “Looks to me like you’re sinking.”

Cindy shuddered as her toned legs slowly vanished into the wet sand. Tiny water bubbles burst on the surface like fizz. “Can you give me a hand?” Her pitch rose ever so slightly.

“No way,” said Emily, calmly taking a sip of coffee. It was already cooling, but she didn’t mind. “I’d get stuck to. Tell you what, though. Pump your legs up and down a bit. Loosen the stuff up, then step out.”

Cindy looked doubtful, but she tried to run in place all the same. Emily watched her body bounce up and down. For a moment it looked like Cindy might work herself free, but then the sand shifted under her pumping and swallowed the rest of her legs in one gulp.

Cindy choked down a startled scream. “Crap! That just drove me deeper. I can’t move my legs at all now.”

“Oops,” said Emily. “Silly me.” She finished the coffee and discarded the cup. She openly stared as the sand cupped Cindy’s ass, which settled an inch deeper each time Cindy moved. She let her eyes wander up Cindy’s struggling body—her flat belly, tight with exertion; her velvety breasts, which jiggled enticingly as Cindy twisted and turned; her delicate throat and tense jaw, and finally her eyes—those wide, scared eyes.

Cindy rolled her hips and bucked her torso, trying to free herself, but her efforts only buried her deeper. Soon the sands slapped at her navel. Emily waited, wondering if the girl would be dumb enough to put her hands in the sand, but Cindy didn’t—not yet, anyway.

“I need help,” Cindy gasped. “There’s a few loose planks at the top of the pier. Get one and pull me out, quick!”

“On my way,” said Emily.

She skipped along the length of the pier, chose a suitable board—long and sturdy—and dragged it back. By that time, Cindy writhed almost chest-deep in the sand. Emily placed her feet carefully. She dropped the board across the soft sand, positioning it just out of Cindy’s reach.

“How’s that supposed to help me?” Cindy reached out her arms, her eyes practically begging on their own.

“It’s not.” Emily walked to the middle of the board like a tight-rope walker. Then she sat down, letting her legs settle into the pit. The sand cooled her skin—for a moment she considered letting herself go a little deeper.

Cindy paused her struggles. “What…what are you doing? You gotta get me out of here before I sink!”

Emily tapped her chin with a finger. “But you already are, so what’s the point? This is quicksand, sweetheart, and I’m afraid it’s too late for you.”

“What? No!” Cindy redoubled her efforts. She writhed and threw her head back, her hair splaying over the sand. Slowly, tantalizingly, her bikini-clad breasts were sucked under. It was then that Cindy seemed to realize just how little time she had left. “Ugh, no! Come on, Em, help me! Please! It’s sucking me down! Why are you just watching?”

“Several reasons, actually.” Emily swirled her finger in the sand between her legs. “First, I hate you. Like, I really, truly hate you. Why, you ask? It’s simple. You’re perfect, Cindy. You’re sweet, friendly, funny, and your body turns guys into drooling idiots. And then there’s me—the skinny, flat-as-a-cookie-sheet errand girl that no one notices until she gets the drink orders wrong. Secondly…actually, I take that back. There’s just that one reason. But hey, one’s enough, right?”

Cindy shook her head in disbelief. “You’re going to hell for this.”

Shrug number three. “Probably. Be a darling, and save me a room.”

“Carlos!” Cindy screamed the name at the top of her lungs. The swell of her chest heaved once more, then the sand slurped her down to her armpits. Still, she kept her arms over her head.

“Don’t bother,” said Emily. “I put a strong drug in his coffee. The way he chugged that stuff down, he’s probably asleep at the top of the sand dunes.”

A whimper escaped Cindy’s lips. “You led me here on purpose. You knew the pit was here!” The deeper she sank, the more the sand roiled around her. Brown, wet flecks spattered her neck and chin.

“Yep. Carlos played along nicely, too. Don’t blame him though—he has no idea he’s about to lose his best model.”

“I don’t want to die,” Cindy whispered. “Not like this.”

“Object lesson number one: life isn’t about what you want all the time, not even with breasts like yours. They felt great when we had our little moment, by the way. I swear, I’m as straight as a walking stick, but still…I wouldn’t have minded a bit more fun with you before…well, before you had to go.”

The sand rolled over Cindy’s writhing shoulders. Her mouth parted open and her arms slackened. They slapped onto the sand, stayed for a moment, then slipped under.

Emily grinned. She pulled her legs out—a harder task than she’d expected—and shifted onto her stomach. Then, keeping a firm grip on her safety board, she leaned closer to Cindy.

“What’re you doing?” Cindy said.

“I’m enjoying your final moments for you.” Emily put her lips against Cindy’s ear, whispering. “Soon the quicksand will pull you under, you know. It’s deep—I did my research. You’ll struggle and kick and grope, but you’ll keep going down, down, down until you open that pretty little mouth of yours to scream. And when that happens…you’ll die.”

She nibbled Cindy’s ear between her teeth even as tears flowed from the model’s eyes. Cindy sank to her chin. She wasn’t fighting the sand anymore, but she only had a few moments left either way.

“Kiss me, darling,” Emily breathed. She pressed her lips to Cindy’s mouth for the second time that morning.

Then she pulled back and resumed her sitting position. “Looks like time’s up for you.”

Cindy pleaded one more time. “Em, save me. Don’t let me die here. It’s—hunh—it’s sucking me under!”

Emily blew her a kiss, then wiggled her fingers in a wave.

Cindy cried out in raw terror. She tilted her head back as the sand crept up her cheeks. Her eyes rolled up in their sockets, and her lips opened wide, sucking in a few final gasps of air. The quicksand pit rolled and undulated, carrying Cindy’s trapped body like the tide itself.

Cindy screamed. “No. No! Nooo—ughlb!” She spat sand from her mouth, gagged, gave one last choking gasp, and then sank into the sand.

Emily waited patiently until the pit stopped heaving. A few bubbles splattered on the surface—she giggled to herself. She pulled a little notebook and a pencil stub from her pocket and flipped through the pages until she found a list of names.

She ran her finger down the list and stopped on the third-to-last name. She scratched it off. “Two to go,” she said.

Emily walked to solid ground, tossed the board aside, and picked up the coffee cups. She skipped up the dunes towards town. A bus left at eight-thirty. If she hurried, she could still catch it.

[PM2K]

Glad you came over to visit us here! Great story again!

[ghostofmyeyes]

Hope you'll share anything else that comes up. You really do Sub energy well with the characters who sink. Once again, your quicksand is terrifying, and in this instance we have an equally frightening unhinged sadist to complement it.