Dad walked around the patio again. This time, I only had time to shut off the lights. Hearing the wet plop of his footsteps again for the seventh night in a row just might send me into insanity. He peered into the window wearing that same expression he wore the other nights -- that loving, proud expression a father can give his daughter. I crouched down lower behind the couch. I hoped he didn't see me.

I saw him take a shovel and start back to where he came from. Quickly, I got on my shoes and the rifle I bought on the fourth night. Quietly, I stepped out to the patio. My mind was still in a rush. I still couldn't believe what I was seeing. That for seven nights, my dad has been walking to my back patio, buck naked with almost inhuman qualities about him. I looked back into the house before trudging forward, giving a knowing look at the urn on the mantle.

I followed the wet footprints -- they were always wet -- down to the beach. From a distance, I can still see Dad shambling in a beeline towards the cave. The cave that I've been afraid of since I was a kid. The cave I've howls from as a kid. The cave that people went missing in. The cave that still stood there to this day.

I went past the spot on the shore where I sat a few days ago, urn in my arms. I dumped Dad's ashes in the water. He wanted to be one with the sea.

This "Dad" that I saw. Who was he? Why was he tormenting me? I had to know. So I moved forward. He entered the cave and disappeared into darkness. I turned on my phone light and entered after. I heard the pitter-patter of his footsteps just around the corner. Then, splashing. Then, movement. Skin smacking against skin. Slurping. Inhuman ululations.

I quickened my pace. I had to know. I wish I hadn't. To this day, I wish I remained ignorant of what lied ahead. To let the mysteries of nature remain as they are. I turned the next corner and found Dad, buttocks raised trying to reach into a deep pit. He slowly turned towards me, my dad's face still on his face. Then, I shot him. He fell down into the pit. I edged closer near the pit, and the growling grew to a deafening beckoning. My eyes widened with disbelief, and I stepped back. This could not be real, I thought. What. The. Hell.

The pit was full of them. All copies of Dad. The shovel was at the bottom, next to the Dad I shot. When I was within their sights, they all stopped in their tracks, deadly silent. They looked up at me...and each flashed a warm grin.

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