I leap into the cold waters of the pacific,
My toes digging into the gritty california sand beneath me.
I brace myself as the next waves come in,
Submerging my sunburned head and shoulders.

The salty tang of the sea fills my burning eyes and nose,
Waves gently rolling over, forming a soft, foamy blanket.
As my oxygen depletes, I burst out of the water,
Shaking out my hair as my lungs fill with warm air.

As time passes and people come and go,
The shrimpy waves coming in this close to shore begin to bore me.
No, these are simply not good enough,
I am after a true monster, taking out surfers with ease.

I begin to propel myself forward,
Leaping into the deep, using the sandy bottom for leverage.
I get out further, the waves get bigger, the skies grayer, the winds stronger.

But I don't see this, at least,
Not until the sudden emptiness of the water rips me out of my concentration.
There is no-one ahead.

I whirl around, expecting to see a very close beach,
But I see a tiny strip of white-gold sand,
With people so small they could be blown away in the wind.

I begin to frantically attempt to paddle back to shore,
My muscles begin to tire, and I see i’ve only moved a few yards.
I begin to lose hope, as the situation sinks in,
Until I hear;

¨Hey, I think you're caught in a rip-tide. Here, you can grab onto my ankle if you aren't a strong swimmer, and I'll pull you back to shore.¨

I turn my head back, looking for the speaker.
My eyes catch a dark-haired man, maybe in his thirties.
He is laying on a surfboard,
A soaked wetsuit clinging to his body.

I gratefully accept, grabbing his ankle, which, thankfully, is cloaked by the wetsuit rather than body-hair.
I hang on for dear life as he lugs my back to shore,
My shame soaking me much deeper than the cold ocean water ever could.