The Watcher of Pawleys Shore

The locals say he walks when the sea gets hungry. A figure in gray, too solid for fog and too quiet for a man, pacing the sand before the storm breaks. Some call him a warning. Some call him a blessing. But when I saw him raise his hand toward the house, I understood the truth. He isn’t there to scare you. He’s there to keep the ledger. One house spared. Another taken. The balance must be kept.