The petrichor greeted me, putting a smile on my face, prompting me to do more for the day. I suited up in my trunks, grabbed my surfing board which was taller than me by two times, I'm going to break the Canadian tides with a cinch. I thought, I underestimated, a buoyant child who was oblivion about the monstrosity of the sea.

I was on my own, I did not bring anyone along in this trip, help was out of reach, failure was not a question, determined to conquer the very tide that sunk even the greatest surfers of the world.

My heart was beating against my rib cage, pulling me back into cover, I saw the enormity of the tide in the sweltering sun, the tide was unprecedented, nothing was planned, I sailed myself to approach the wave with my experience, which was nascent compared to those prolific surfers.

You are going to die, John. A voice buried inside me screamed, reverberating my innards, making me queasy. I swam closer to the tide, the largest tide that I had ever seen, I was shaking, frigid as the air around me was stagnant with the mouth of the tide, prickling me subcutaneously with the tiny spears of water.

Balanced myself into my usual posture nonchalantly, I kept my cool, I sailed the tide, just once if I'm out of alignment, I'm screwed, big time. My fortitude trumped the genesis of this surf, it was quite challenging, but everything was far too silent, too smooth. 

Without a knock, the tide came crashing unto me, a boulder to my feeble soul, swatting me into the wall of water that of a fly. I felt some of my bones snapped, and my surf board was engulfed by the vicious sea. This was the end, I was thrown back and forth violently by the sea, I was unable to fight back, the buoyant force acting on me was tremendous.

My fight and flight response was nil, I was in the water for more than a minute, my lungs was filling up with the salty, bitter sea water. I was suffocating, I was tossed around, like a rag doll. The force acted on me was slightly lifted, I was able to struggle, but to no avail, I swallowed even more water into my lungs.

3 minutes, 181 seconds, I counted down to my death, 190 seconds, I was bound to the Davy Jones' locker. HELP ME! I shouted, nothing. SAVE ME! I screamed, devoured by the sea. Shit, I'm screwed, I feared, death welcomed. 

A ferocious swing from the sea spat me unto the sandy ground, my hands scavenged the safety foundations, pulling myself into a reasonable range out of the sea. I felt a gurgling gush from my throat, the salt water was overwhelming, choking the living hell out of me. My conscience turned dark.

"John..." I felt her warmth wreathed around my hand. The fluorescent, and the medicine smell overran my thoughts, I saw her across the mattress, eyes reddened from the worry, "you're alive." her comforting voice embraced me. I am. Thanks. 

Weaved by: Zeckrom Bryan

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