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Besides, supernatural things usually leadawayfrom my death.
It’s fine. Totally fine.
I wave my hand back and forth, the blue lights dancing with my movements but still leading in the same general direction before fading from view under the fog.
Answers.
I repeat the word in my head as I start paddling out, following the strings of light. The further out I get, the stronger and more frequent the tug becomes.
That’s either encouraging or worrisome. I can’t decide.
The fish and lure comparison suddenly feels a bit more foreboding.
What if I’m not the one holding the fishing pole, and this thing is reeling me in?
The waves are getting bigger now, crashing over my head as I try to duck beneath them to avoid getting pushed back. It takes more than a few tries to get it somewhat right.
How did Sarah make this look so easy?
The surf is deafening and disorienting. So far, I’m managing to stay on my board. I’m completely soaked and freezing. Still, I paddle further out.
The tugging on my left hand is getting much stronger now. I’m just ducking below another wave when, suddenly, the pull becomes a yank.
I’m wrenched from my board and pulled into the inky depths.
All I can see are bubbles as I’m tossed around in the dark, turbulent waters.
I flail around but am entirely disoriented. My fingers claw out blindly, trying to feel for the cold breath of surface air. Despite my increasing panic at my new ‘no breathing’ lifestyle, I spot bubbles forming as another wave crashes down.
Up.
I try to swim in that direction but can’t lift one of my arms. My left hand still has blue lights extending from itand is being pulled in the opposite direction. I try wrenching it up, but my hand keeps getting pulled down, trying to carry the rest of my body with it.
That isn’t right. I need to go up, not down.
My thoughts feel fuzzy as a deep cold settles over my body. My vision starts to blacken. Something is in my face now, darkening the world around me.
It’s blocking my ability to find the surface.
My hair.
I try to use my free hand to push it from my face as I keep trying to swim to the surface, using only my legs and one non-spooky hand.
It isn’t working.
The tugging on my left hand intensifies and starts pulling me deeper. Whatever has me doesn’t want to let me go. Frantically, I kick harder, trying to get to air.
My panic peaks as I feel two hands wrap around me.
Shit, shit, shit. It’s got me.
But no, whatever is around my waist is pulling me up. The tugging on my left hand stops, and I start clawing back to the surface, desperate for air. I’m moving fast, helped by whoever is holding me. As my head breaks the surface, I take a gasp of life-saving air.
Wiping the water from my eyes, I see Sarah’s terrified face. She doesn’t let me go but grabs my arm as we quickly beeline over to her surfboard.
“Are you crazy?” she yells at me over the pounding waves. “We need to get out of here; these waves are too much for a beginner!”
“My board...” I stammer. My teeth are chattering.
