My friends and I are in an on-again/off-again writing club where the rules are simple. Every two weeks you have to submit three short stories that it took you 20 minutes or less to write. These are the results.

He was jogging on the beach in the morning when ahead he saw what he thought was a dead cat. It was directly in his path, and his morbid curiosity got the best of him. But it wasn’t a cat, it looked like a small, fur-covered woman.

It has to be some kind of kids toy, he thought to himself as he slowed his pace to get a closer look. When he bent down and shooed away the buzzing insects surrounding it, though, he realized it wasn’t a stuffed creature. It looked real. He grabbed a nearby stick, and lifted up its limp limbs. They had weight to them like a formerly living, tiny, fur-covered would. Or at least as he imagined it would.

Eventually the stick wasn’t enough for his investigation. He felt it with his hands. As he pressed on it gently, it felt like a dead animal would. Finally, he had to, he scooped it up with one hand, cleaning sand off as best he could with the other. It was definitely a small person, but not a monkey. Its face was just like a person’s, but with fur. It didn’t have a tail, or any other simian features.

He looked around to see if there was anyone else around, but there wasn’t. Then he felt the weight shift in his hand.

The creature was awake, and looking at him. He panicked and nearly flung it away. It landed not even a foot away from him, on all fours, then shrieked at him. It ran, as best it could into the water and disappeared into the surf.

He stared into the water for an indeterminate amount of time. After shaking off his fascination, he looked about again for someone, anyone. Again, nobody. That was the reason he always went running at this time; for the isolation. He wished that he had woken up late or had any other reason for not being alone.