LostSole
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The afternoon sun dipped low in the sky, bathing the secluded beach in warm, golden light. Waves rolled in slowly, carrying the familiar scent of salt, seaweed, and driftwood that lingered in the air. Overhead, seagulls drifted lazily, their cries echoing softly in the distance.
River moved at a leisurely pace, his bare feet molding into the sand. The grains clung stubbornly to his sun-bronzed skin, familiar companions from years spent roaming beaches just like this one.
His metal detector hummed softly in his grip, the occasional sharp beep sending a flicker of anticipation through him. The woven bag slung over his shoulder carried today’s haul: a handful of weathered coins, a few bits of scrap metal, and a cheap, tarnished ring that might clean up well enough to fetch a few bucks.
It wasn’t much, but it didn’t need to be. At forty, River had long since freed himself from the pull of modern materialism. Van life had taught him to live simply, to make do with what he had, to take what the world offered, and to let the rest go.
He drifted where the road and the tide took him, his home wherever he parked, his schedule dictated by nothing more than the rise and fall of the sun, like a free-flowing river unbound and ever-moving. There was a kind of peace in that, knowing that he belonged nowhere and everywhere all at once.
A sudden, sharp beep from the detector captured his attention.
The sound was insistent, deeper than the usual surface junk. He paused, arching a brow, then began digging with his shovel. He had managed to dig a decent sized hole about two feet deep, when a voice rang out behind him, cutting through the easy quiet of the afternoon.
“What the hell are you doing out here?”
River stiffened, his hands tightening around the handle of his shovel. Slowly, he turned, finding himself face to face with four young men. Each barely out of their teens, all of them wearing matching black bandanas. Something about them buzzed with nervous energy, like a pack of stray dogs backed into a corner.
He assessed them with the knowing ease of a man who’d been around enough rough edges to know when trouble was circling.
And this? This was trouble.
One of them, a wiry kid buzzing with nerves, shifted from foot to foot before yanking a gun from the waistband of his jeans. The motion was clumsy, lacking the confidence of someone used to handling a weapon. He moved like a kid who’d only recently started carrying, still figuring out how to make fear work in his favor.
“You stole our shit, didn’t you?” the boy snapped, jabbing the barrel toward River’s chest.
River exhaled sharply through his nose, tilting his head slightly as he studied them. “No clue what you’re talking about.”
The gang member’s grip on the gun tightened. “Don’t lie. You got that metal detector. You found it and took it, didn’t you?”
“Look, kid,” River sighed, keeping his voice level despite the flicker of irritation tightening his jaw. “I don’t have anything of yours. I’m just digging up junk.”
He motioned toward his bag, sitting open at his feet. Inside was nothing more than a mix of weathered items found buried in the sand. Nothing that should have mattered to a group of jittery teenagers.
The others exchanged uneasy glances. The tension between them thick and electric. They hadn’t expected anyone to be here, least of all some drifter with a metal detector. This stretch of the beach was supposed to be deserted.
No witnesses. No interruptions.
Yet here he was.
And by the way their eyes darted to one another, they were trying to figure out what the hell to do about it.
"He’s lying," another hissed finally, his voice pitched high with strained desperation. He stepped closer, glancing at the sand-covered mound beside River, then back at him. "That detector means you found it. You better hand it over, or we'll take it back ourselves."
River’s eyes returned to the weapon clutched in the wiry boy's trembling hand, a small handgun, black metal glinting ominously in the fading daylight. His pulse quickened slightly, though he held his breathing steady, refusing to betray any hint of fear or surprise.
"Easy now," River cautioned quietly, his voice even, almost soothing. "Whatever you're looking for, I haven't seen it."
He kept his body loose, ready to move in an instant. His mind raced, scanning for escape routes, gauging distances, weighing his options.
The air felt tighter by the second.
One of the boys shifted anxiously, fingers twitching at the seams of his jeans.
"What do we do with him, Jesse?" he asked, the question cutting through the quiet. Without waiting for a reply, he turned back to River.
"You better talk, or this gets ugly real fast." His voice cracked slightly, undercutting the menace in his words.
Jesse’s grip tightened around the gun as he scowled. “We can’t let him leave. Not until we find what’s ours.”
The quietest of them finally spoke. “But we don’t have anything to tie him up with.”
River let out a sharp bark of laughter, unimpressed.
“Tie me up?” he scoffed, rolling his shoulders back. “I don’t know what you kids lost, but I didn’t take shit.”
He took a slow step back, eyes locked on Jesse. His voice didn’t waver. “And no one is keeping me here.”
Jesse’s voice rang out before River could move any farther. “Where do you think you’re going?”
That was the only warning before hands clamped down on him. River reacted on instinct, spinning and shoving with the power of someone long used to fighting on his own.
“Knock it off!” he barked, driving an elbow into the ribs of one of the attackers. The kid stumbled back with a yelp, but another was already on him, lunging from the side, gripping his arm in a frantic attempt to hold him down.
The sharp crack of a gunshot shattered the air.
Everything stopped.
The only sound was the steady crash of waves, indifferent to the rising tide of tension.
River’s gaze snapped to Jesse, whose arm was still raised, the gun smoking faintly. Slowly, he began to lower it, until the barrel settled on River.
“I said you’re not going anywhere until we find our shit.” Jesse’s voice was firmer now, more resolute. He jerked his chin toward the hole River had dug. His grip on the gun didn’t waver. “Get him in the hole. We’ll bury him up to his neck. That should keep him in one place.”
River clenched his teeth, every muscle coiled with the urge to fight. But Jesse’s stance had changed. He wasn’t just some dumb kid waving a gun around anymore. There was a hard edge in his eyes now, a dangerous kind of certainty. River had been around long enough to know when the odds weren’t in his favor.
For now, compliance was the smarter play.
With a frustrated growl, he tossed his metal detector and bag aside and marched toward the hole.
“Fine, you little shit stains,” he snapped, dropping down into the pit. Sand crumbled beneath his feet as he settled in. “But I’m telling you, I didn’t steal your goddamn stuff.”
The three unarmed gang members wasted no time, shoveling sand over his legs and torso by hand. They moved quickly, as if afraid they’d lose their nerve if they hesitated. One even grabbed River’s own shovel to use, much to his annoyance.
He glared at them, barely able to shift beneath the growing weight.
“This is beyond ridiculous,” he muttered, frustration clear in his voice.
Jesse crouched down, tapping the barrel of his gun against his knee, a smug glint in his eyes. “Shut up, old man. When we find our shit, we’ll let you out.”
River gave a short, scornful chuckle. “Old man? And what are you, twelve? Do you even know what you're doing with that thing?” His eyes flicked to the gun in Jesse’s hand.
Jesse’s smug smile didn’t waver. He tilted his head, finger grazing the trigger. “Keep talking and you might just find out.”
Before River could fire back, one of the others cut in. “What do we do now, Jesse? We can’t just sit around here.”
Jesse exhaled sharply, thinking. “Alright, Anthony, you and Trevor backtrack. See if you can find it. Take your time and look thoroughly.”
His gaze flickered to the remaining accomplice. “You and I will stay here.”
Anthony nodded, shooting a last uneasy glance at River before turning down the beach, Trevor right behind him.
The remaining young man began pacing in restless circles, kicking up little puffs of sand with every frantic step. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, his breath coming quick and uneven.
“Oh man. I hope we find it. We have to find it or we’re dead. Raymond will kill us,” he mumbled, more to himself than anyone else.
Jesse shot him an irritated look. “Calm down, Danny. We’ll find it, okay? Raymond’s not going to kill us.”
Danny didn’t look convinced. If anything, Jesse’s words barely seemed to register. His pacing only grew more erratic, his muttering more feverish.
“But what if we don’t? Oh man, oh man. Maybe I should go help look. I can’t just stand here doing nothing while our necks are on the line.”
Before Jesse could tell him to knock it off, Danny took another anxious step. Without realizing it, he brought his foot down squarely on River’s exposed toes, half-buried beneath the sand.
A sharp yelp broke through the tension.
“Ow, you little shit! You stepped on my foot!” River barked, his voice laced with both pain and outrage.
Danny jolted like he’d touched a live wire. “Oh! Oops, I—”
Jesse groaned, dragging his hand down. “Oh, cry me a river, old man. You’re fine.”
River glared, his eyebrow twitching at the unintended pun.
He didn’t know what annoyed him more, being stepped on, or the fact that this gun-wielding punk had just turned his own damn name into a joke.
Jesse bent down near River’s foot, giving it a condescending pat.
“See? You’re just fine,” he mocked, his fingers barely brushing over the arch of River’s foot.
River twitched involuntarily, his body reacting before he could stop it. “Stop.”
Jesse froze, glancing at his fingers, then back at River. His brows pulled together in confusion. “Stop what? I barely touched you.”
“Just stop, alright,” River repeated, irritation laced in his voice.
Jesse and Danny exchanged glances, a silent question passing between them.
Jesse’s curiosity got the better of him. He reached down again, this time letting his fingers linger just a little longer, his touch barely skimming over River’s skin. “See? All I did was this.”
River let out an involuntary snicker before clamping his mouth shut, trying to mask the sound with a gruff growl.
The boys blinked, realization dawning.
Danny was the first to speak. “Dude, I think you tickled him. I think he’s ticklish,” his voice teetering between surprise and amusement.
River tensed, his glare sharp. “No, I’m not. Knock it off, assholes.”
Jesse’s momentary confusion twisted into something far more mischievous. A teasing curve pulled at his lips.
“Oh, I dunno,” he said, sliding the gun back into his waistband as he kneeled. He wiggled his fingers just above River’s foot, hovering like a threat. “I think we should test it out.”
River braced himself, every muscle coiling tight beneath the sand. His jaw locked, a flicker of tension running down his neck as he forced his features to stay still. He wasn’t about to give these little bastards the satisfaction of a twitch, let alone a laugh.
Jesse ran his fingers slowly along River’s sole this time, dragging out every movement. River fought to keep a straight face, sweat prickling at his brow as his muscles remained tense.
Danny grinned. “He’s fighting it.”
Jesse chuckled knowingly. “Maybe we just need to change tactics.”
Without warning, he switched from light teasing strokes to rapid scratching along the length of River’s sole.
River’s restraint shattered instantly. “HAHAHA! NOHOHO! STAHAHAP!”
Jesse and Danny burst into laughter. Danny slapped his knee. “I told you he was ticklish!”
River thrashed as much as the sand allowed, his body squirming instinctively against the unbearable sensations. “STAHAHAP! HAHAHA! NOHOHO!” His laughter came in wild, frantic bursts.
Jesse’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Oh, this is too good.”
He kept at it, fingers skimming mercilessly over River’s arch, dragging along the sensitive skin.
River shrieked, his voice breaking. “AHAHA! QUHIHIHIT! GEHEHET OFF!”
Jesse grinned. “Jeez, Mr. Tickles, you sure are sensitive.”
River’s laughter pitched higher at the nickname, a fresh wave of humiliation hitting him.
“HAHAHA! DOHOHON’T CAHAHALL ME THAHAHAT!” he barked between frantic giggles.
“But it suits you,” Jesse shot back, his smirk widening.
River had no comeback, no breath left to argue. Every ticklish nerve was firing at once as his laughter spilled into the air.
The gang members’ tension had seemingly melted away, replaced with laughter as they toyed with him, his breathless pleas fueling their amusement.
Jesse continued raking his fingers up and down River’s vulnerable sole, his nails scratching just enough to send jolts of unbearable sensation shooting through the older man’s nerves. River’s laughter erupted in ragged bursts, his body trembling against the packed sand that held him prisoner.
“HAHAHAHA! PLEAHEHEHESE! HAHAHA! NOHOHOHO!” His toes curled instinctively, trying in vain to shield the most sensitive parts of his foot.
“Oh-ho, what’s this?” Jesse asked mockingly, grabbing River’s big toe and pulling it back, stretching the skin taut. “That bad, huh? You trying to hide from me, Mr. Tickles?”
River jerked, his breaths coming in short, gasping bursts as he forced out a shout. “DON’T YOU DARE!”
Jesse wiggled his fingers teasingly above the delicate skin, drawing out the moment. “Oh, I dunno, Danny. Should I dare?” His voice dripped with mock contemplation.
Danny laughed, his earlier anxiety having melted into something far more entertained. “Oh, you should definitely dare,” he chimed in. “Dude, look at him. He’s already losing it.”
Jesse flashed a wicked grin before his fingers darted directly to the hyper-sensitive flesh just beneath River’s toes, tickling mercilessly.
The reaction was instant, River’s back arched as much as the sand would allow, his laughter exploding into something high-pitched and hysterical.
“HAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAP! NOHOHO! NOT THE TOHOHOES! NOT THE TOHOHOES, YOU LITTLE BAHAHASTARDS!”
Jesse snorted. “Oh-ho, ‘not the toes,’ huh? That just makes me wanna tickle them even more!”
He scratched at the delicate webbing between each toe, making sure not to leave a single spot untouched.
River thrashed as best he could, his fists clenched as his body spasmed against the relentless sensations. “STAHAHAHAP! I CAHAHAHAN’T! NO MOHOHORE!”
“Oh man,” Danny said, crouching by his other foot. “I gotta try this.”
Without hesitation, he started scribbling his fingers over River’s other sole, using a mix of fluttering touches and quick scratches.
River screamed with laughter, his head tossing from side to side. “NOHOHO! NOT BOHOHOTH! YOU LITTLE—HAHAHAHA—YOU’RE KILLING MEHEHEHE!”
The two gang members howled with amusement at his powerless state.
“Damn, dude, you're ticklish as hell,” Danny jeered. “You’re squirming like a little kid!”
“More like a worm,” Jesse snickered. “A big, squirmy, ticklish worm.” his fingers still tormenting River’s toes.
“Mr. Tickles the worm,” Danny added.
River gasped for breath between helpless bursts of laughter, his face flushed and damp with tears that rolled down his cheeks. Jesse eyed their captive, his fingers slowing to a taunting crawl along River’s foot, ghosting over the skin just enough to make him twitch.
“What’s the matter, Mr. Tickles? You can’t handle a little fun?”
River’s laughter weakened into breathless giggles, his strength sapped from the nonstop torment. “YOU GUHUHUYS SUHUHUCK!”
Danny leaned in closer, smirking. “Oh, we know.”
With that, he wiggled his fingers beneath River’s toes again, sending him spiraling into full-blown hysterics.
The beach air rang with uncontrollable laughter, mingled with the tormentors’ teasing jeers as the sun cast long shadows over the ridiculous, merciless scene.
After several minutes of relentless tickling, River was gasping for breath, his laughter dissolving into breathless wheezes.
Just when it felt like it would never stop, a voice cut through the chaos.
“We found it!”
Trevor and Anthony jogged back toward the group, breathless but relieved. Anthony held up a small, metal stash can, grinning triumphantly. “It must’ve fallen earlier.”
River let out a sharp scoff. “I told you dipshits I didn’t steal anything! Now let me out!”
Jesse, now standing, flicked his gaze between River and his buddies. A slow grin spread across his face. “You know… while you guys were gone, Danny and I accidentally discovered something interesting.”
Trevor and Anthony exchanged glances. “Yeah? What’s that?”
Jesse let out a smug laugh. “Turns out he’s ticklish.”
Their faces lit up with amusement. “No way, really?”
Jesse wiggled his fingers in the air before kneeling back down, dragging them lightly across River’s feet.
River’s body jolted at the touch. “HAHAHA! STOP! FUHAHAHUCKERS!” He kicked as much as the sand allowed, but it was useless.
The gang burst into laughter.
Jesse smiled. “We’ll stop… when you ask nicely, Mr. Tickles.”
River growled. “Why the hell should I ask nicely? I didn’t do shit to deserve being buried in the sand and tickle tortured by the goddamn Tickle Monster Gang.”
The young men roared with laughter.
Jesse leaned in, eyes gleaming. “Tickle Monster Gang, huh? Well, I guess if we’re tickle monsters… we better scare you into asking nicely.”
Before River could fire back, they descended on him all at once. Fingers scribbled over his defenseless feet, sending him into wild, helpless cackles.
“Tickle, tickle, Mr. Tickles,” one of them teased, only fueling his laughter.
River howled, his body twisting as much as the sand allowed, but there was no escape. The gang laughed and taunted, reveling in the sheer amusement of breaking their unwilling captive with something so stupidly childish as tickling.
River was becoming completely undone, his laughter spiraling into breathless, desperate pleas. “HAHAHA! OKAY! PLEAHEHEHESE! PLEASE! LET MEHEHEHE OUHOHOT! PLEAHEHESE! I’M BEHEHEGGING YOU!”
Jesse chuckled, clearly satisfied, and lifted a hand to signal the others. “Alright, alright. That’s enough.”
The tickling stopped at once, leaving River gasping for air, his body twitching from the lingering sensation. His head lolled back against the sand as he sucked in ragged breaths.
Jesse grinned down at him. “See? Now was that so hard?”
The others snickered as they finally got to work digging him out, though not without throwing in a few more teasing remarks at his expense. River endured it with a scowl, gritting his teeth through the jabs.
When he was finally free, he stood up and immediately started brushing the sand off himself. Still bristling, he shot them a glare. “Thanks for letting me out, assholes.”
Jesse’s tone dripped with mock formality. “You’re welcome, Mr. Tickles.”
River groaned, grabbing his bag, shovel, and metal detector. “Alright, tickle monsters, I’m out of here. I’ve had enough fun for one day.”
He turned and started walking away, sand clinging to his clothes and what was left of his dignity.
Just as he was getting out of earshot, Jesse cupped his hands around his mouth. “Thanks again for all the laughs, Mr. Tickles!”
The gang erupted into laughter behind him.
River grumbled under his breath, shaking his head as he trudged down the beach. “Mr. Tickles. Unbelievable. Damn kids.”
Back at his van, River wasted no time stripping off his sand-covered clothes and stepping into the tiny, custom-built-in shower, letting the warm, solar-heated water pelt his skin. By the time he stepped out, toweling off his hair, he already felt more like himself again. The shower had done its job, washing away the sand, the sweat, and the lingering sensation of hands that had no business being on his feet.
He pulled on a clean pair of boxer-briefs, then a soft T-shirt and loose-fitting shorts. The fabric felt good against his skin, dry and familiar. The van creaked slightly as he moved, the quiet settling in around him.
He stepped over to the mini-fridge and opened it. One beer left. He let out a low sigh of relief. “At least, River’s not running dry tonight.”
He grabbed the half-eaten sub sandwich from the day before, still wrapped in foil, and sat on the edge of his bed with both. He cracked open the beer and took a slow sip, his mind still replaying the absurdity he had just endured.
Buried in the sand and tickled half to death by a gang of idiots with way too much time on their hands. He shook his head. “Mr. Tickles. Ridiculous.”
“They’re lucky they had a gun,” he added under his breath. “Or I would’ve given them the ass-whooping they never got growing up.”
The sandwich disappeared in a few absentminded bites, the beer going down smooth with it. When the can was empty, he set it on the narrow built-in shelf and lay back on his bed, pulling the blanket up over himself.
He stretched out, his limbs sinking into the mattress.
The quiet of the van settled over him like a second layer of warmth.
His eyes drifted shut. He let out a long, contented sigh.
Bit by bit, the tension began to melt from his muscles, slipping away as his body sank deeper into rest.
His breathing slowed into a steady rhythm, and sleep tugged at him, gently drawing him toward the abyss.
For a few peaceful moments, he drifted.
Then his eyes snapped open.
His toes.
They were sticking out from under the covers.
River blinked at them, unmoving.
Then he yanked them back under the blanket, tucking it snug around his feet.
"Mr. Tickles doesn’t need any more damn tickle monster bullshit," he muttered. "Dreams or reality."
He let his head sink into the pillow again, this time with his toes safely tucked beneath the blanket.
Just in case.
THE END
River moved at a leisurely pace, his bare feet molding into the sand. The grains clung stubbornly to his sun-bronzed skin, familiar companions from years spent roaming beaches just like this one.
His metal detector hummed softly in his grip, the occasional sharp beep sending a flicker of anticipation through him. The woven bag slung over his shoulder carried today’s haul: a handful of weathered coins, a few bits of scrap metal, and a cheap, tarnished ring that might clean up well enough to fetch a few bucks.
It wasn’t much, but it didn’t need to be. At forty, River had long since freed himself from the pull of modern materialism. Van life had taught him to live simply, to make do with what he had, to take what the world offered, and to let the rest go.
He drifted where the road and the tide took him, his home wherever he parked, his schedule dictated by nothing more than the rise and fall of the sun, like a free-flowing river unbound and ever-moving. There was a kind of peace in that, knowing that he belonged nowhere and everywhere all at once.
A sudden, sharp beep from the detector captured his attention.
The sound was insistent, deeper than the usual surface junk. He paused, arching a brow, then began digging with his shovel. He had managed to dig a decent sized hole about two feet deep, when a voice rang out behind him, cutting through the easy quiet of the afternoon.
“What the hell are you doing out here?”
River stiffened, his hands tightening around the handle of his shovel. Slowly, he turned, finding himself face to face with four young men. Each barely out of their teens, all of them wearing matching black bandanas. Something about them buzzed with nervous energy, like a pack of stray dogs backed into a corner.
He assessed them with the knowing ease of a man who’d been around enough rough edges to know when trouble was circling.
And this? This was trouble.
One of them, a wiry kid buzzing with nerves, shifted from foot to foot before yanking a gun from the waistband of his jeans. The motion was clumsy, lacking the confidence of someone used to handling a weapon. He moved like a kid who’d only recently started carrying, still figuring out how to make fear work in his favor.
“You stole our shit, didn’t you?” the boy snapped, jabbing the barrel toward River’s chest.
River exhaled sharply through his nose, tilting his head slightly as he studied them. “No clue what you’re talking about.”
The gang member’s grip on the gun tightened. “Don’t lie. You got that metal detector. You found it and took it, didn’t you?”
“Look, kid,” River sighed, keeping his voice level despite the flicker of irritation tightening his jaw. “I don’t have anything of yours. I’m just digging up junk.”
He motioned toward his bag, sitting open at his feet. Inside was nothing more than a mix of weathered items found buried in the sand. Nothing that should have mattered to a group of jittery teenagers.
The others exchanged uneasy glances. The tension between them thick and electric. They hadn’t expected anyone to be here, least of all some drifter with a metal detector. This stretch of the beach was supposed to be deserted.
No witnesses. No interruptions.
Yet here he was.
And by the way their eyes darted to one another, they were trying to figure out what the hell to do about it.
"He’s lying," another hissed finally, his voice pitched high with strained desperation. He stepped closer, glancing at the sand-covered mound beside River, then back at him. "That detector means you found it. You better hand it over, or we'll take it back ourselves."
River’s eyes returned to the weapon clutched in the wiry boy's trembling hand, a small handgun, black metal glinting ominously in the fading daylight. His pulse quickened slightly, though he held his breathing steady, refusing to betray any hint of fear or surprise.
"Easy now," River cautioned quietly, his voice even, almost soothing. "Whatever you're looking for, I haven't seen it."
He kept his body loose, ready to move in an instant. His mind raced, scanning for escape routes, gauging distances, weighing his options.
The air felt tighter by the second.
One of the boys shifted anxiously, fingers twitching at the seams of his jeans.
"What do we do with him, Jesse?" he asked, the question cutting through the quiet. Without waiting for a reply, he turned back to River.
"You better talk, or this gets ugly real fast." His voice cracked slightly, undercutting the menace in his words.
Jesse’s grip tightened around the gun as he scowled. “We can’t let him leave. Not until we find what’s ours.”
The quietest of them finally spoke. “But we don’t have anything to tie him up with.”
River let out a sharp bark of laughter, unimpressed.
“Tie me up?” he scoffed, rolling his shoulders back. “I don’t know what you kids lost, but I didn’t take shit.”
He took a slow step back, eyes locked on Jesse. His voice didn’t waver. “And no one is keeping me here.”
Jesse’s voice rang out before River could move any farther. “Where do you think you’re going?”
That was the only warning before hands clamped down on him. River reacted on instinct, spinning and shoving with the power of someone long used to fighting on his own.
“Knock it off!” he barked, driving an elbow into the ribs of one of the attackers. The kid stumbled back with a yelp, but another was already on him, lunging from the side, gripping his arm in a frantic attempt to hold him down.
The sharp crack of a gunshot shattered the air.
Everything stopped.
The only sound was the steady crash of waves, indifferent to the rising tide of tension.
River’s gaze snapped to Jesse, whose arm was still raised, the gun smoking faintly. Slowly, he began to lower it, until the barrel settled on River.
“I said you’re not going anywhere until we find our shit.” Jesse’s voice was firmer now, more resolute. He jerked his chin toward the hole River had dug. His grip on the gun didn’t waver. “Get him in the hole. We’ll bury him up to his neck. That should keep him in one place.”
River clenched his teeth, every muscle coiled with the urge to fight. But Jesse’s stance had changed. He wasn’t just some dumb kid waving a gun around anymore. There was a hard edge in his eyes now, a dangerous kind of certainty. River had been around long enough to know when the odds weren’t in his favor.
For now, compliance was the smarter play.
With a frustrated growl, he tossed his metal detector and bag aside and marched toward the hole.
“Fine, you little shit stains,” he snapped, dropping down into the pit. Sand crumbled beneath his feet as he settled in. “But I’m telling you, I didn’t steal your goddamn stuff.”
The three unarmed gang members wasted no time, shoveling sand over his legs and torso by hand. They moved quickly, as if afraid they’d lose their nerve if they hesitated. One even grabbed River’s own shovel to use, much to his annoyance.
He glared at them, barely able to shift beneath the growing weight.
“This is beyond ridiculous,” he muttered, frustration clear in his voice.
Jesse crouched down, tapping the barrel of his gun against his knee, a smug glint in his eyes. “Shut up, old man. When we find our shit, we’ll let you out.”
River gave a short, scornful chuckle. “Old man? And what are you, twelve? Do you even know what you're doing with that thing?” His eyes flicked to the gun in Jesse’s hand.
Jesse’s smug smile didn’t waver. He tilted his head, finger grazing the trigger. “Keep talking and you might just find out.”
Before River could fire back, one of the others cut in. “What do we do now, Jesse? We can’t just sit around here.”
Jesse exhaled sharply, thinking. “Alright, Anthony, you and Trevor backtrack. See if you can find it. Take your time and look thoroughly.”
His gaze flickered to the remaining accomplice. “You and I will stay here.”
Anthony nodded, shooting a last uneasy glance at River before turning down the beach, Trevor right behind him.
The remaining young man began pacing in restless circles, kicking up little puffs of sand with every frantic step. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, his breath coming quick and uneven.
“Oh man. I hope we find it. We have to find it or we’re dead. Raymond will kill us,” he mumbled, more to himself than anyone else.
Jesse shot him an irritated look. “Calm down, Danny. We’ll find it, okay? Raymond’s not going to kill us.”
Danny didn’t look convinced. If anything, Jesse’s words barely seemed to register. His pacing only grew more erratic, his muttering more feverish.
“But what if we don’t? Oh man, oh man. Maybe I should go help look. I can’t just stand here doing nothing while our necks are on the line.”
Before Jesse could tell him to knock it off, Danny took another anxious step. Without realizing it, he brought his foot down squarely on River’s exposed toes, half-buried beneath the sand.
A sharp yelp broke through the tension.
“Ow, you little shit! You stepped on my foot!” River barked, his voice laced with both pain and outrage.
Danny jolted like he’d touched a live wire. “Oh! Oops, I—”
Jesse groaned, dragging his hand down. “Oh, cry me a river, old man. You’re fine.”
River glared, his eyebrow twitching at the unintended pun.
He didn’t know what annoyed him more, being stepped on, or the fact that this gun-wielding punk had just turned his own damn name into a joke.
Jesse bent down near River’s foot, giving it a condescending pat.
“See? You’re just fine,” he mocked, his fingers barely brushing over the arch of River’s foot.
River twitched involuntarily, his body reacting before he could stop it. “Stop.”
Jesse froze, glancing at his fingers, then back at River. His brows pulled together in confusion. “Stop what? I barely touched you.”
“Just stop, alright,” River repeated, irritation laced in his voice.
Jesse and Danny exchanged glances, a silent question passing between them.
Jesse’s curiosity got the better of him. He reached down again, this time letting his fingers linger just a little longer, his touch barely skimming over River’s skin. “See? All I did was this.”
River let out an involuntary snicker before clamping his mouth shut, trying to mask the sound with a gruff growl.
The boys blinked, realization dawning.
Danny was the first to speak. “Dude, I think you tickled him. I think he’s ticklish,” his voice teetering between surprise and amusement.
River tensed, his glare sharp. “No, I’m not. Knock it off, assholes.”
Jesse’s momentary confusion twisted into something far more mischievous. A teasing curve pulled at his lips.
“Oh, I dunno,” he said, sliding the gun back into his waistband as he kneeled. He wiggled his fingers just above River’s foot, hovering like a threat. “I think we should test it out.”
River braced himself, every muscle coiling tight beneath the sand. His jaw locked, a flicker of tension running down his neck as he forced his features to stay still. He wasn’t about to give these little bastards the satisfaction of a twitch, let alone a laugh.
Jesse ran his fingers slowly along River’s sole this time, dragging out every movement. River fought to keep a straight face, sweat prickling at his brow as his muscles remained tense.
Danny grinned. “He’s fighting it.”
Jesse chuckled knowingly. “Maybe we just need to change tactics.”
Without warning, he switched from light teasing strokes to rapid scratching along the length of River’s sole.
River’s restraint shattered instantly. “HAHAHA! NOHOHO! STAHAHAP!”
Jesse and Danny burst into laughter. Danny slapped his knee. “I told you he was ticklish!”
River thrashed as much as the sand allowed, his body squirming instinctively against the unbearable sensations. “STAHAHAP! HAHAHA! NOHOHO!” His laughter came in wild, frantic bursts.
Jesse’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Oh, this is too good.”
He kept at it, fingers skimming mercilessly over River’s arch, dragging along the sensitive skin.
River shrieked, his voice breaking. “AHAHA! QUHIHIHIT! GEHEHET OFF!”
Jesse grinned. “Jeez, Mr. Tickles, you sure are sensitive.”
River’s laughter pitched higher at the nickname, a fresh wave of humiliation hitting him.
“HAHAHA! DOHOHON’T CAHAHALL ME THAHAHAT!” he barked between frantic giggles.
“But it suits you,” Jesse shot back, his smirk widening.
River had no comeback, no breath left to argue. Every ticklish nerve was firing at once as his laughter spilled into the air.
The gang members’ tension had seemingly melted away, replaced with laughter as they toyed with him, his breathless pleas fueling their amusement.
Jesse continued raking his fingers up and down River’s vulnerable sole, his nails scratching just enough to send jolts of unbearable sensation shooting through the older man’s nerves. River’s laughter erupted in ragged bursts, his body trembling against the packed sand that held him prisoner.
“HAHAHAHA! PLEAHEHEHESE! HAHAHA! NOHOHOHO!” His toes curled instinctively, trying in vain to shield the most sensitive parts of his foot.
“Oh-ho, what’s this?” Jesse asked mockingly, grabbing River’s big toe and pulling it back, stretching the skin taut. “That bad, huh? You trying to hide from me, Mr. Tickles?”
River jerked, his breaths coming in short, gasping bursts as he forced out a shout. “DON’T YOU DARE!”
Jesse wiggled his fingers teasingly above the delicate skin, drawing out the moment. “Oh, I dunno, Danny. Should I dare?” His voice dripped with mock contemplation.
Danny laughed, his earlier anxiety having melted into something far more entertained. “Oh, you should definitely dare,” he chimed in. “Dude, look at him. He’s already losing it.”
Jesse flashed a wicked grin before his fingers darted directly to the hyper-sensitive flesh just beneath River’s toes, tickling mercilessly.
The reaction was instant, River’s back arched as much as the sand would allow, his laughter exploding into something high-pitched and hysterical.
“HAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAP! NOHOHO! NOT THE TOHOHOES! NOT THE TOHOHOES, YOU LITTLE BAHAHASTARDS!”
Jesse snorted. “Oh-ho, ‘not the toes,’ huh? That just makes me wanna tickle them even more!”
He scratched at the delicate webbing between each toe, making sure not to leave a single spot untouched.
River thrashed as best he could, his fists clenched as his body spasmed against the relentless sensations. “STAHAHAHAP! I CAHAHAHAN’T! NO MOHOHORE!”
“Oh man,” Danny said, crouching by his other foot. “I gotta try this.”
Without hesitation, he started scribbling his fingers over River’s other sole, using a mix of fluttering touches and quick scratches.
River screamed with laughter, his head tossing from side to side. “NOHOHO! NOT BOHOHOTH! YOU LITTLE—HAHAHAHA—YOU’RE KILLING MEHEHEHE!”
The two gang members howled with amusement at his powerless state.
“Damn, dude, you're ticklish as hell,” Danny jeered. “You’re squirming like a little kid!”
“More like a worm,” Jesse snickered. “A big, squirmy, ticklish worm.” his fingers still tormenting River’s toes.
“Mr. Tickles the worm,” Danny added.
River gasped for breath between helpless bursts of laughter, his face flushed and damp with tears that rolled down his cheeks. Jesse eyed their captive, his fingers slowing to a taunting crawl along River’s foot, ghosting over the skin just enough to make him twitch.
“What’s the matter, Mr. Tickles? You can’t handle a little fun?”
River’s laughter weakened into breathless giggles, his strength sapped from the nonstop torment. “YOU GUHUHUYS SUHUHUCK!”
Danny leaned in closer, smirking. “Oh, we know.”
With that, he wiggled his fingers beneath River’s toes again, sending him spiraling into full-blown hysterics.
The beach air rang with uncontrollable laughter, mingled with the tormentors’ teasing jeers as the sun cast long shadows over the ridiculous, merciless scene.
After several minutes of relentless tickling, River was gasping for breath, his laughter dissolving into breathless wheezes.
Just when it felt like it would never stop, a voice cut through the chaos.
“We found it!”
Trevor and Anthony jogged back toward the group, breathless but relieved. Anthony held up a small, metal stash can, grinning triumphantly. “It must’ve fallen earlier.”
River let out a sharp scoff. “I told you dipshits I didn’t steal anything! Now let me out!”
Jesse, now standing, flicked his gaze between River and his buddies. A slow grin spread across his face. “You know… while you guys were gone, Danny and I accidentally discovered something interesting.”
Trevor and Anthony exchanged glances. “Yeah? What’s that?”
Jesse let out a smug laugh. “Turns out he’s ticklish.”
Their faces lit up with amusement. “No way, really?”
Jesse wiggled his fingers in the air before kneeling back down, dragging them lightly across River’s feet.
River’s body jolted at the touch. “HAHAHA! STOP! FUHAHAHUCKERS!” He kicked as much as the sand allowed, but it was useless.
The gang burst into laughter.
Jesse smiled. “We’ll stop… when you ask nicely, Mr. Tickles.”
River growled. “Why the hell should I ask nicely? I didn’t do shit to deserve being buried in the sand and tickle tortured by the goddamn Tickle Monster Gang.”
The young men roared with laughter.
Jesse leaned in, eyes gleaming. “Tickle Monster Gang, huh? Well, I guess if we’re tickle monsters… we better scare you into asking nicely.”
Before River could fire back, they descended on him all at once. Fingers scribbled over his defenseless feet, sending him into wild, helpless cackles.
“Tickle, tickle, Mr. Tickles,” one of them teased, only fueling his laughter.
River howled, his body twisting as much as the sand allowed, but there was no escape. The gang laughed and taunted, reveling in the sheer amusement of breaking their unwilling captive with something so stupidly childish as tickling.
River was becoming completely undone, his laughter spiraling into breathless, desperate pleas. “HAHAHA! OKAY! PLEAHEHEHESE! PLEASE! LET MEHEHEHE OUHOHOT! PLEAHEHESE! I’M BEHEHEGGING YOU!”
Jesse chuckled, clearly satisfied, and lifted a hand to signal the others. “Alright, alright. That’s enough.”
The tickling stopped at once, leaving River gasping for air, his body twitching from the lingering sensation. His head lolled back against the sand as he sucked in ragged breaths.
Jesse grinned down at him. “See? Now was that so hard?”
The others snickered as they finally got to work digging him out, though not without throwing in a few more teasing remarks at his expense. River endured it with a scowl, gritting his teeth through the jabs.
When he was finally free, he stood up and immediately started brushing the sand off himself. Still bristling, he shot them a glare. “Thanks for letting me out, assholes.”
Jesse’s tone dripped with mock formality. “You’re welcome, Mr. Tickles.”
River groaned, grabbing his bag, shovel, and metal detector. “Alright, tickle monsters, I’m out of here. I’ve had enough fun for one day.”
He turned and started walking away, sand clinging to his clothes and what was left of his dignity.
Just as he was getting out of earshot, Jesse cupped his hands around his mouth. “Thanks again for all the laughs, Mr. Tickles!”
The gang erupted into laughter behind him.
River grumbled under his breath, shaking his head as he trudged down the beach. “Mr. Tickles. Unbelievable. Damn kids.”
Back at his van, River wasted no time stripping off his sand-covered clothes and stepping into the tiny, custom-built-in shower, letting the warm, solar-heated water pelt his skin. By the time he stepped out, toweling off his hair, he already felt more like himself again. The shower had done its job, washing away the sand, the sweat, and the lingering sensation of hands that had no business being on his feet.
He pulled on a clean pair of boxer-briefs, then a soft T-shirt and loose-fitting shorts. The fabric felt good against his skin, dry and familiar. The van creaked slightly as he moved, the quiet settling in around him.
He stepped over to the mini-fridge and opened it. One beer left. He let out a low sigh of relief. “At least, River’s not running dry tonight.”
He grabbed the half-eaten sub sandwich from the day before, still wrapped in foil, and sat on the edge of his bed with both. He cracked open the beer and took a slow sip, his mind still replaying the absurdity he had just endured.
Buried in the sand and tickled half to death by a gang of idiots with way too much time on their hands. He shook his head. “Mr. Tickles. Ridiculous.”
“They’re lucky they had a gun,” he added under his breath. “Or I would’ve given them the ass-whooping they never got growing up.”
The sandwich disappeared in a few absentminded bites, the beer going down smooth with it. When the can was empty, he set it on the narrow built-in shelf and lay back on his bed, pulling the blanket up over himself.
He stretched out, his limbs sinking into the mattress.
The quiet of the van settled over him like a second layer of warmth.
His eyes drifted shut. He let out a long, contented sigh.
Bit by bit, the tension began to melt from his muscles, slipping away as his body sank deeper into rest.
His breathing slowed into a steady rhythm, and sleep tugged at him, gently drawing him toward the abyss.
For a few peaceful moments, he drifted.
Then his eyes snapped open.
His toes.
They were sticking out from under the covers.
River blinked at them, unmoving.
Then he yanked them back under the blanket, tucking it snug around his feet.
"Mr. Tickles doesn’t need any more damn tickle monster bullshit," he muttered. "Dreams or reality."
He let his head sink into the pillow again, this time with his toes safely tucked beneath the blanket.
Just in case.
THE END
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