Study of Microfauna By Ben G Thomas - 1

This video had taken forever to film, the camera had stopped recording twice, and the microphone couldn't pick up sound all that well out here.

The sea air had been interfering with the electronics.


But when it was finished, Ben knew it would do well. They'd been walking along this beach beneath the towering shadows of the cliffs for about 4 hours in the heavy sunlight. It danced off the chalk-rich monoliths cutting the mainland from the beach.

This beach had been rich with fossils from the Jurassic. Ben had been explaining the importance of this location on the south coast of England.


Doug had been recording all day, but the evening had started to creep in, and it was time to pack the equipment away.


"Hey, Ben, I'm gonna head back to the car and put all this stuff away in a sec. You coming with?" Doug asked wearily. This video had drained him of all his energy, and he now just wanted to get home. However, he knew when he got back; he'd have to make a start on the edit.


"You head on. I think I'm going to enjoy the sun while it lasts." Ben still wanted to make the most of this beach while they had it to themselves.


"Fine, but don't be long. I'm exhausted". Doug sighed heavily, resigned to the fact he'd be waiting at the car for at least another hour or so waiting for Ben to return.


"Yeah, don't worry, mate. I'll be there in a minute." Ben said with a mounting sense of irritation brought on by impatience. Some days he prayed Doug would want to slow down and enjoy what they were doing. They had one of the largest growing science-based youtube channels, but he acted like he was being forced into it.


"Fine, I'll see you in a bit". And with that, Doug trudged off down the beach, the sand giving with each step, dirtying the soles of his trainers.


Ben watched as Doug left, breathing a sigh of relief that the work for the day was done, and now he could sit back and enjoy this evening. The sand shone golden in the beating sun, the occasional rock peering through the uneven sand.


Gazing around, he saw he had the beach to himself. Finding a reasonably large rock, Ben placed himself down and stretched his legs out, digging small trenches away from himself, the sand slowly tumbling back down.


Finally having time to relax, Ben reached down to the hem of his shirt, curling his slender fingers around it and gripping firmly, slowly, and with a mounting sense of satisfaction, he began to lift it. The fabric peeled from his smooth skin freeing it from its choking confines and opening it up to the gentle sea breeze. Finally raising his arms overhead, his shirt knocked his glasses off-kilter and tousled his golden blonde hair.


As he tossed his shirt aside, letting the sunlight dance across his flesh, the harsh light illuminating his athletic torso casting shadows into his light abs and revealing the soft musculature. Many would call him hot, but Ben was glad for the lack of attention this empty beach would bring.


The salty breeze whistled along his legs, shifting the light hairs on his exposed shins and flaring the openings of his running shorts. His converse had been coated with a light dusting of the fine sand of the beach, he would remove them, but Ben hated the feeling of sand in his toes.


Sitting there admiring the rhythmic crashing of the waves further down the beach, Ben felt himself drifting off. The sound of the channel lulled him to a drowsiness that caused his eyelids to droop. Then, lowering himself onto the sand, his exposed back placed against the surface of the rock. The cold, damp surface is an inviting change from the heat of the sun.


As he sat there, Ben's eyelids grew so heavy that his mind drifted to the black embrace of sleep.

As he drifted, the seas continued to crash against the sand, and the wind curled its way over the cliffs behind him.


Suddenly the violent vibrations in his pocket jolted him from his rest.


"Urgh, I was enjoying that", Ben yawned wearily. Reaching for his pocket, he curled his fingers around his phone, yet as he pulled it out from its prison, the vibrations ceased.


Looking at the notification, he saw it had been from Doug. He must be waiting for me, Ben thought to himself.


"I must have drifted off for longer than I thought". Reaching behind him to steady himself on the rock he had been leaning on, he felt its surface. The hard solid surface seemed to have become a soft green and white substance. Bringing his hand to his face, he peered at it closely. The green looked almost plant-like. Only dirty brown and grey dust was mixed in. It must have been a kind of algae, maybe even a new species.


Intrigued, Ben got to his feet and turned, yet the sight that greeted him was not what he had expected.


***


Doug collapsed into the driver's seat of his car. These filming trips grew more challenging and more demanding every time they did one. This youtube business was getting too much. Ben thought they shared the load equally, but every time they filmed, it was apparent to Doug that if he stopped, the channel would collapse.


Doug was a cameraman, graphic artist, editor and producer. When filming stopped for Ben, he went home and relaxed, yet when Doug stopped filming, he went home and continued working on the uploads to ensure the audience got what they wanted.


He hated to say it, but Ben was nothing without Doug. If he left, the channel would collapse. Cradling his head in his hands, Doug resigned to the fact this was his life now, a dogsbody for an absent-minded scientist.


Doug peered down at his phone, raising his head and letting the evening sun creep back into his eyes. It was later than he thought he needed to get home. Otherwise, this video was never getting finished. Climbing out of his car, he strolled back towards the beach, stopping at the edge with a sudden irritated realisation.


"Why should I go get him? I've already walked that route twice" the car park was situated about 1000 feet from the edge of the cliff, and the path down was along a rickety staircase that descended another thousand feet down to the sandy stretch. Turning back towards the car, Doug opened up his phone.


He rang three times before, and finally, impatience gave way to anger.


"For fucks sake, if he's not back at the car in 20 minutes, I'm going home". Gripping the door handle so tightly with whitening knuckles, he almost didn't notice a shadow pass overhead.


Only as he heard the unmistakable mechanical click and began to clamber in did he notice that the street lights around the car park had started to illuminate. Yeah, it was late, but not that late surely, he thought. Peeking out through the windscreen, the tinted glass making the darkness ever more apparent, he glanced at the sky.


What greeted him was impossible; overhead obscuring the sky, was a pale digit. A fingertip obscured the sunlight; it had encroached on the car park and soon surpassed it, only to be replaced by a far larger pale palm that easily dwarfed his location.


Terrified and with a furious vigour, Doug rammed the keys into the ignition, and the engine roared to light. He planted his foot to the floor, the vehicle revving to life as he aimed towards the exit. Doug sped away without concern or care for others, forgetting entirely about Ben or what had happened to him. Instead, that was replaced with a primal survival instinct. As the exit road ranged into view, Doug could see the first sharp glints of sunlight creep their way around the oppressive digits.


He was going to make it. As hope began to drill its way into his mind, Doug started to remember Ben, and regret flooded his mind; if only he knew. However, he would never discover the truth as suddenly and without remorse, this monstrous palm thundered to the ground.


The landscape around him offered no resistance to the horror that plummeted to the ground. The metal casing of his car-turned tomb offered Doug no protection as the twisting and screeching of the roof crumbling beneath the immense mass that was pressing down atop it drowned his screams. Soon these were all replaced by a horrifying silence as Doug, along with the entire contents of the car park, were reduced to nothing beneath this hand. The car itself is an indiscernible fleck of twisted metal trapped in a wrinkle of skin upon its surface. Doug himself is now nothing but a gooey paste.


No one would ever know what had happened to Doug, not even the culprit; even as he examined his palm, Ben would never notice the tiny remains of the car stuck to his index finger.