The sand scorched beneath her as she crawled, half alive, half wishing for death towards the crashing waves. The thunderous roar beckoned her to trust the depth of her journey.
The pains surging through her tiny and partially exposed self made dismissing the feelings of abandonment less likely. What had led her to this cruel, fatal, yet beckoning tide of despair?
The unforgiving sun blinded her vision, parched her veins and thankfully, to a small degree, numbed her fear. Death was so near she could almost touch it. Exhausted she practically willed it to release her from this cruel destiny.
As she felt death’s breath embrace her she, in return, embraced the inevitable. Strangely, her last image before surrendering to the monstrous wave was darkened by a shadow. The blocked sun had no choice but to relinquish its hold on her. Denied of its catch death’s wave retreated and prepared itself for its next onslaught.
She floated, higher and higher and as she did she instinctively retracted safely inside herself.
She hid.
Invisible to the outside elements her parched mind considered the futile notion that if death could not see her, perhaps, it would relinquish its hold.
She waited.
In her dream she felt the drops of cool water trickling on her shield.
She imagined that death would have felt different, somehow.
Shadow was beckoning her to survive this treacherous day.
When she awoke her freedom was gone.
There could be no regrets.
After all,
What is the price for life?
What is the debt for rescue?
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