Or at least I thought it was dead, and naked. It ended up getting up and jogging away, and the whole thing occurred under weird circumstances. I was probably about 17 or 18, and lived in the Clearwater/Tampa/St. Petersburg area of Florida. The night in question, I was with a friend of mine and we were hanging out on Clearwater Beach. It was pretty late at night, maybe about 11 PM or midnight, and we were walking along the shoreline. Now, the Clearwater beach strip is pretty bright, but once you get to the shore, it starts to get pretty dark and details become indistinguishable. We saw a woman, lying at the shoreline, ocean water washing around her and gently carving a tomb for her in the soft grains of wet sand. She had seaweed tangled in her hair, and appeared naked. My friend and I freaked out; we didn’t get too close because we were paranoid that someone would think we engineered this woman’s untimely demise. We ran to the nearest occupied beach house, and called 9-1-1. My friend spoke to the operator, and relayed the information. We ran back to the shoreline after placing the call, and examined the woman more closely. It seemed that she was wearing a flesh-toned bathing suit, and the seams of fabric that met her peach thighs were obscured by sand and seaweed. We discussed the situation, and as my buddy nudged the woman with her foot, the woman sat stark upright (scaring the shit out of us). We yelled, and she jumped up, looked around, and began to jog diagonally and not urgently down the shoreline, in knee-deep ocean. She didn’t even acknowledge us, and the only remnant of her existence was the quickly filling in outline where she laid.
My friend and I walked a hundred or so feet to the south, and sat on some large rocks under a short pier. As we were sitting there, the beach instantly crawled with blinking red and blue police vehicles designed to tear around in sand, and a couple of helicopters with spotlights began to comb the area. The response was great, and the police continued to search long after we were gone. I didn’t have the heart to explain to the search and recovery crews what had actually happened, and wasn’t sure if they’d believe me. Besides, at 17 or 18 I probably had some kind of illegal substance on me, and I’m not one to draw attention to myself while I’m breaking the law. And I probably borrowed my father’s car to get out to the beach in the first place, and if I didn’t return before he had to leave for work at 6 the next morning, I’d be in deep shit.