A Childhood Memory on Writing

Over twenty years ago, I saw a competition in a local newspaper to write
a short story. It had to have the line, "And all that could be heard was
the sound of gently lapping water". There was a prize, although I can't
remember what it was.

These years were pre-teens and I had been hammering at typewriters for
years, finding much amusements in stringing letters together to make
words which in turn made stories (yes, the secret of writing).

I wrote the typical man/werewolf story, and when he was not a werewolf,
he knew what he had done and tried to dilute his guilt, but with every
murder, his guilt increased until he could no longer live with himself.
So, he went up a mountain and jumped into the rocks below on a shallow
tide.

The character was a very likeable fellow. Even today, over twenty years
later, I think about how that man was feeling at the time, how twisted
he must have become knowing he had killed, yet was powerless to stop
himself. In hindsight, it was a Jekyll and Hyde story.

I have no recollection on whether I submitted the story. Many more
followed until my teenage years. All of those stories are sadly lost but
I don't care. I had fun, nerdy as some made me out to be.