Navigating through the thick fog, Johnny glanced at the red arrow pointing near the gas station icon.

"Oh, shit." he cursed.

Nessa quickly wakes up, shifting away from a sleeping Caleb.

"What's wrong?" she asked him.

Johnny informs his younger sister that they are running out of gas.

Brooke expressed a loud sigh. "I warned you that we are going to run out of gas at 5:30 p.m."

"We should have driven into a gas station to pick up some fuel," Caleb grumbled. "But no, you want to go through a scary fog."

Johnny glares at his tired best friend. "If we go to a gas station, people are going to see our passports and harass us." 

"And that's why we can't get gas because Mr. Sensitive is afraid of bigots."

"Shut up!"

Brooke rubs her eyelids in a counterclockwise motion. Searing pain inflicted her forehead as the siblings argued about their predicament.

Clenching her fist, she was about to tell the siblings to stop fighting when a vision warned her that her aunt's beach house is right beside them.

"We're here!" Brooke exclaimed.

Her fingers stroke Caleb's as she attempts to revive him from his nap.

Johnny, on the other hand, stopped the car, parked it in front of the wooden beach house, and twists the key inside the small, jagged hole.

He ran his fingers through his slightly messy brown hair. His weary eyes drooped, but the energy in his legs forced him to keep going.

"Home sweet home," he mumbled, stepping out of the car.

Nessa cleaned up the Cheetos on the floor, whereas Brooke carried the backpack with one arm.

In the meantime, Caleb picks up his red snapback hat, placed it on his head, then crawled out of the car.

He stretched his arms out and yawned, "I am so ready for bed."

Brooke laughed as her hair touched the back of Caleb's neck.

Nessa put on her shoes, tie her laces, and collects Johnny's bag, and hurried to join her cheering friends.

She slides her hands through the backpack straps and finds her brother taking their luggage out of the trunk of the car.

"Hey Johnny, do you need a hand?"

Her older brother nods, prompting Caleb, Brooke, and Nessa to pick up the rest of the items.

"Whoa," Caleb put his sleeping bag, bright yellow backpack, and his jacket on the living room floor.

"I can't believe we are crashing at your aunt's beach house." Brooke blushed. "I know, it's beautiful to look at."

Sand slid into their sneakers as the children entered the beach. No one played in the ocean or lounged on the sand dunes.

"It's so quiet," Nessa observe, holding her belongings close to her chest. "You can barely hear a pin drop."

Brooke did a shrug.

"My aunt is a recluse." she sighed, "I don't think she likes company very much."

A puzzled Caleb studies his girlfriend for a moment.

"Why does your aunt hate having company over?" he asked. "She's famous."

Unbeknownst to Caleb, the reason most people seek a life of fame and fortune is that they desire a perfect life away from their unpleasant past.

Some were prosperous role models while others became insinuated in drugs, alcohol, and gold-digging women.

Encountering a bolted door, Brooke placed the bags on the wooden floorboards and rummage her pockets for the house keys.

Meanwhile, Nessa and Johnny marveled at the beach house. It was small, stable, and crafted out of cherry wood.

The roof was sturdy, protecting the beach chairs on the second floor.

Precious stones and cracked shells. The seagulls squawked; the waves washed the fresh footprints in the sand. Teal blue caressed the exterior walls, matching the color of the ocean.

"This is your beach house?" Johnny questions Brooke, who slides the house key into the lock twists it, and swivels the doorknob.

"Yep," Brooke smirks as she pushes the door open. "Come on in, you guys. The water is fine."

Johnny, Nessa, Caleb, and Brooke dropped their luggage, then marveled at the glass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.

Wooden bookshelves stood against egg white walls-with colorful books.

The interior was quite lavish: living room couches were dipped in pastel colors. In front of it stood a long, glass table and flat-screen television. Across the sophisticated kitchen is the wooden dining room table surrounded by empty chairs.

Grasping her luggage, Brooke and the others carried their heavy baggage upstairs where they discovered various guest rooms.

Nessa and Johnny Phoenix entered separate rooms, whereas Caleb and Brooke shared a large guest room for themselves.

Pastel yellow walls absorbed the lamplight, making it seem as though the room is set ablaze.

Old notebooks, letters, and inked pens scatter across the oak brown desk table, whereas the tough brown leather chairs sat near the white closet.

Next to the baby pink closet, is a chocolate brown bookshelf filled with withered novels and old watercolor portraits.

Not only the bookcase is sturdy, but it provides more sustenance than the squeaky lockers at the Idlewild Boarding School.

And as for the bed, it contains a massive queen-sized mattress with a beautifully carved wooden bedpost, white satin bedsheets, and milky white blankets.

Peeling off his shirt, Caleb casts it on the floor.

A thin scar stretched across his muscular stomach; Caleb's arms are scrawny yet strong.

Removing his red snapback cap, Caleb glides his fingers through his black dreadlocks and places the hat on the brown dresser drawer.

"Hey Caleb, have you heard the news?" asked Brooke, combing her hair in front of a mirror.

He scrunched his thick eyebrows at her.

"What do you mean?" asked Caleb.

"Dragons are getting extinct."

"Oh."

He rests his back on the soft bed.

"Yeah," Caleb sighs. "I heard that most dragons are getting killed for sport."

Brooke stops combing her hair then glances at Caleb through the mirror.

"Why would anyone do this?" she growls. "It's not fair."

"It's the new rules, babe. According to the Daily Oracle, dragon hunting is illegal."

"That's odd," Brooke thought. "If there was news like that, I would have sensed it by now."

Laying her white comb on the dresser, Brooke simply glances at her hands.

"Maybe I am not so good at seeing the future."

Reading her miserable thoughts, Caleb hops out of bed, approaches behind Brooke, and kissed her cheek.

"Don't beat yourself up like that, Brooke," he whispers.

Brooke turns her head to Caleb, who softly kisses her chin.

"You are an amazing fortune teller."

She gives her boyfriend a skeptical look. "You think so?"

"I know so," Caleb answers as he brushes his lips against hers.

His hands rub Brooke's slender back until she pulled away.

"What's up?"

"I need to take a hot shower first," Brooke smirked, wrapping her arms around Caleb's neck.

"Okay."

"But thank you for encouraging me." she beamed, lowering her arms.

Caleb kissed her lips again. "Not a problem."

Leaning his back against the wall, Caleb watched Brooke unzip her bag and pick out her nightclothes.

After she looks at herself in the mirror once more, let out a tiresome yawn, then entered the grand bathroom.

*  *  *  *
As soon as Brooke got out of the shower, her skin smells like fresh cherry blossoms.

White steam danced behind her as she dries her hair with a towel and changed into a black nightgown

Smiling dreamily, Brooke sighed, "That was the most relaxing shower I have ever had."

Caleb smirked as she sits next to him.

Brooke removes a dampened towel from her head and begins folding the cloth into an odd-looking square. She tries to make it neater, but the square is covered in messy wrinkles.

Annoyed, Brooke was about to toss the towel in the laundry hamper when she hears something coming from outside.

"How strange," she thinks wearily. "Who the hell is screaming at this hour?"

Normally, if this was a Pearl Jam concert or a bustling amusement park, people are allowed to scream on top of their lungs.

But if you are a fifteen-year-old girl hearing strange noises outside of your aunt's beach house, then you should be terrified.

Fortunately for Brooke, she wasn't frightened of mysterious noises—just snakes, clowns, and hairy tarantulas.

"What's going on?" Caleb asked in a strange voice.

He scoops up his shirt off of the floor, quickly puts it on, and storms towards Brooke.

"Brooke, where are you going?"

The loud shriek echoed once more, causing Caleb to jump back in surprise.

"Holy shit!" he screeched. "What the hell was that?"

Brooke fastens her hair into a ponytail, puts on her indigo blue rain jacket, a pair of thick jeans, and Converse sneakers.

"Don't know," she answered. "But I am going to find out."

Caleb's eyes widen as he watches Brooke walk up to her unbolted suitcase, scours through her clothes, and picks up the black leather bullwhip.

Back in Idlewild, Brooke was considered to be the most talented whip expert in her class.

Not only did she learn several techniques from her Kenyan mother but distinguish palatable plants from toxic ones.

With this in mind, Brooke manages to create dozens of antidotes, poisons, and perfumes whose essences last for weeks.

"You stay with Johnny and Nessa, okay?" she tells Caleb.

Caleb gives her a bizarre look. "Whoa, at least let me back you up!"

Brooke collects her loaded handgun from her leather container and deactivates her safety.

"Caleb, those siblings need you."

Her boyfriend scoffed in disbelief. "Johnny and Nessa are the best fighters in the world—"

"And very important to us." Brooke finished, opening the door wide enough to fit.

Caleb never doubted his girlfriend for a minute.

She is resourceful, a talented fighter, and an amazing kisser. However, he did not like Brooke roaming across the beach by herself.

"Maybe I'll come with you," Caleb suggested.

"Us too."

The couple looked over their shoulders to see Johnny and Nessa Phoenix who stood in the doorway.

Like Brooke and Caleb, the siblings were in their pajamas, jackets, sneakers, and armed with their weapons.

Johnny wields a black katana while Nessa carries a steel bow in her hands and a quiver of arrows on her back.

"You heard the noise too?" asked Caleb.

Nessa nodded. "At first, I thought it was Johnny snoring like an old woman, but then—"

A deafening wail howled in agony, causing the lamp on the dresser drawer to burst into lethal glass shards.

Petrified, the children got down on their knees, bending their heads over the flying glass fragments.

The good news is that no one got hurt: the glass soared over the children's heads and scattered on the wooden floor.

However, appalling howls of an unknown sea monster would not expire. Angry winds rocked the ocean; dark gray painted the sky like an inked pen on a piece of parchment.

The beach house rocked vibrantly. Seagulls abandoned their homes to get out of the boisterous sound.

As for the children, they have decided to cut their winter break short to investigate the indescribable shrieking occurring in troublesome waters.

Now, this is the part where you close this book, ignore its contents, and return to whatever it is you were doing.

Maybe find a novel or a television series to satisfy your curious mind.

But if you are interested in supernatural anomalies, four relatable children, and 90s pop culture, I will continue the story.

Shutting the door behind his friends, a determined Johnny unsheathed his black katana and points the blade in the bubbling saltwater.

Meanwhile, Nessa takes an arrow from her quiver, pulls it on the string, and aimed it at the irritated bubbles in the ocean.

"Could it be a monster?" she cried.

Caleb lowered his silver firearms. "No idea, but whatever it is, we can take care of it!"

As much as I admire their courage, I am afraid to tell you that the children's adventure has come to an end.

The dark aberration came up from the murky waters, dominating the children with its massive body.

A wide green eye studied the youngsters with intense desire; long, black tentacles waved back and forth like flags caught in an irritated breeze.