The beach was long, but well lit by the moon in the cloudless sky above me. The stars shone down, tiny pinpricks of light in the broad black canvas of the night sky. I hear the noise again off in the woods, and shiver. I'm not the only one here.
I pick up a piece of driftwood about the length of my leg, hoping that it's better than nothing to defend myself with. When I look down at it, I discover it's not a piece of driftwood, but a plank of a ship. A ship that was wrecked here a while ago. I look around, noticing a small break in the shore ahead, and begin to walk towards it.
It was a wrecked Spanish galleon, and judging by the look of it, it had been here for some time. It looked like it had run afoul of the rocks out off the shore, and ended up here. Her sails were gone, a mast broken. There was a pretty big hole in the port side, just aft of where the mainsail would be. I walked closer to it, trying to find some way to get aboard.
I heard the noise again, this time not from the woods. It came from the ship.
I walk forward cautiously, clutching the plank tightly in my right hand. I reach the hole torn by the rocks, and peer in. It's very dark. I don't hear anything, and it's hard to see because of the darkness. No light from the moon shines in there. There is movement, something in there. It makes little sound, but I hear it nonetheless. I grip my plank and poke my head in.
Something screeches, loud, piercing in the quiet night. I tumble backwards, tripping over a piece of the hull and landing in the water with a splash. I move to rub the salt water from my eyes, swinging out with my plank with my other hand, but I strike nothing.
Another screech, this one right on top of me. I feel panic, the urge to run. I try to scramble to my feet, but I'm slow in the debris-strewn water. I manage to get a leg up, to turn to see my attacker, and am struck an awful blow to the side of the head. Everything goes dark.