The storm sounded its battle drums, signaling the start of this struggle. My surfboard would not last long; I can hear its tiny creaks as it tried with all its might to survive. The battle cry of the waves was one of brutality and without remorse. The waves encircled me, each one roaring like a thousand dragons. You would not think of them as peaceful, the way they normally glide to the coast, with the slightest sound giving them away. The storm, however, enrages them and they go into a frenzy. They yell and shout foreign words, but the words’ intent is not disguised. Hearing their cry of anger and hatred, I can tell what they want from me.

They are not alone, however. The wind whips the waves into greater speeds, all the while whispering incoherent words into my ears. I try to listen, but the words are a different language to me. They pass through my ear, not letting my brain interpret the words found hidden behind them. The wind is the least of my concerns now, though, as I try to make it to the shore.


The board is wailing, its shrieks like that of a banshee. I’m almost out of the water when the board sighs with relief as my feet leave its back. I fly up the water and sand, standing on some rocks that will protect me from being sucked into the ocean again. The waves chase me to the rocks, when the crash into the rocks, the waves give one last yell of anger before slinking back into the depths of saltwater. The wind, not needing to travel on the ground, rush past me, chanting curses, it seems, into my ears. I sigh, my throat dry with the terror that drove my sigh into a croak. I find myself in relief as I walk away from the jeers and japes of the waves. The slight crunching of sand underneath my feet is the sweetest music to my ears.