Beyond the Blog with Pamela Beach
One theme, many worlds. Exploring resilience, from lived experience to imagined stories.
recent posts
“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.”
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“Four teens went into the Elfin Forest to test a theory: that the fog, the ‘Taker,’ could be invited inland with the right anchor. They lit candles, they chanted, and the fog came. A Taker appeared, but it was weak, drying out, and trapped in the mud. Kace thought it was a joke. ‘It’s just…
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“Poppy Briar’s wind chime shop was a symphony of sound—until the ‘wrong’ fog rolled in. One morning, she found a new chime on her porch, one she didn’t make. It was a grotesque thing of stone and kelp. And when the wind blew, the chime swung… but it made no sound. It was a black…
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“Jack ‘Mud-Dog’ Miller knew the tides of Morro Bay better than his own wife. But tonight was a rare negative tide, revealing the deep, treacherous ‘Black Flats’ of the estuary. Jack went out looking for giant clams. Instead, he found a graveyard of lost things: a boot, a broken camera, a silver locket. And then…
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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.…