June 18, 2018

The moon, full fat, begins its sky climb by sliding up from behind the abandoned lighthouse. You survey the beach and the gentle churning of the surf. Not a living creature do you see. Are you really and truly finally safe? You take two deep breaths and step out into the open. You freeze and listen. Measured rustle of spilling waves and nothing other. Intensely aware, you cross the sand and, with no delay, plow straight into the water. Confidence expands. You are in your element. Down you plunge to snake powerfully forward. Thrust and surge, you glide in joy. Until. Your ankle. Something has grasped your ankle. You are pulled backwards and up. You are hauled from the sea to dangle, hanging upside down, thrashing. A boat. Ah. You see her. There she is. You die.

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