Beyond the Blog with Pamela Beach
One theme, many worlds. Exploring resilience, from lived experience to imagined stories.
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“Hello, I’m Pam. I’m an author, a storyteller, and this is where I explore one big theme: resilience. My writing is born from a life of navigating challenges, from foster care and homelessness to single motherhood. Here, we’re in the business of turning scars into strength.”
Category: Spooky Stories
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“The fog had swallowed Morro Rock whole. But in the water of the inner bay, the reflection was still perfect. ‘It’s like the water remembers,’ Collin murmured, aiming his phone. Then he zoomed in. Something was moving in the reflection. Something pale, glistening, and climbing down the mirror-image of the rock. And it was swimming…
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“Dr. Lauren Reed knew every sea otter in the harbor by name. But when the ‘wrong’ fog rolls in, her favorite otter, ‘Pry-bar,’ starts behaving strangely. Instead of hunting for clams, the otter dives for something metallic. Something she holds up to the fog like an offering. Driven by scientific curiosity, Lauren investigates, only to…
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“Gage Harrison loved the fog. While other divers cursed the low visibility, Gage saw it as a curtain being drawn… His obsession was the Estrella Perdida, a Spanish galleon that legend said was ‘anchored in the fog.’ But when Gage finally descends into the milky, white abyss beneath the surface, he finds that the anchor…
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“Mark looked. He saw their living room reflected dimly in the dark glass… And then, standing just behind Riella’s reflection, was a face. Mark stopped breathing. It was a girl. Young, maybe nineteen or twenty. She wasn’t looking in. She was looking out, past them, at the fog-shrouded bay… Her mouth was a perfect, silent…
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“One minute, I’m writing about resilience… The next, I’m telling stories about bone buoys, silent sea lions, and a fog that eats tourists. So, where did this come from? The answer is simple: I looked out the window. It’s not like the mist you see in other places. It doesn’t just drift; it occupies… And…
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“The barking didn’t fade; it was guillotined. At 02:17 AM, the cacophony of a thousand animals was there. At 02:18 AM, there was nothing… It wasn’t a shark. It had… limbs. Too many limbs. They moved with a wet, spider-like articulation, pulling its slug-like, pale body forward. Lily watched, her breath caught in her throat,…
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“For decades, that sound had meant one thing: Keep away. Rocks here. Death here. Turn back. But tonight, the fog was different. It wasn’t the wet, dripping mist of a standard Morro Bay gloom. It was dry, electric, and smelled of ozone and ancient, stagnant water… Brummmm-Hoooooo… Heeee. There it was again. A third note.…
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An urban explorer breaks into the decommissioned Morro Bay power plant to film the legendary “burning stacks.” He makes a terrifying discovery about what the stacks truly burn and the supernatural purpose they serve for the fog’s trapped souls.
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Ben squinted, following her finger. On the opposing ridge, at least a mile away, stood two silhouettes. They were impossibly tall, dark figures, standing perfectly still against the bright, white backdrop of the fog. They looked like men, but stretched, their limbs too long, their shoulders too broad. They wore no color. They were just……
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She kept walking, following the invisible tether. It led her down the far side of the dune, into a deep hollow, a bowl-shaped depression sheltered from the non-existent wind. And here, the fog was different. It was denser, heavier, and it lay perfectly still, settled in the hollow like water in a basin. It came…