Junly 12

I forget the motivation, but I had to jump. Whether it was to rescue strangers or for shear sport, I dove for the greater good. I sunk deep into the water, touching the sand dollars below with my eyes shut. I heard that little voice in the back of my head, warning me of the turtles I had disturbed. I dared open my eyes after realizing they werent sand dollars at all. I open my eyes to a great mouth, lunging for my torso. The water became darker, as taht toothless beak of a beast closes around my stomach. I knoew its too late, I knew it from the second the water turned black. I died.
It was strangely calming, the utter nothingness of it all. Un-conciousness. In it, time doesnt even exist. Who knows how long I was actually persisting until the radio clicked on?
I guess the myth is false after all, which I gotta say is a relief.

there are far worse places to live. Maybe the weather is afraid of us and just trying to keep us secluded. Its working. Our chords run taut to the tension of snapping. Spiders will fall when let go, tumbling into a reckless new world. For those who have been there before, maybe it'll be a nice refresher, like a cold storm with warm sun. There will be lightning and rainbows. Foliage in the sand dunes. Stars around the moon. high tide will drag us further from our broken spider links to a desert island, where carrier pigeons are the only means of connecting again.Without the birds there would be no new warnings, no updates, not a single tear or giggle shared. Neutrality. so let me bobb, tired and anxious for this new world. And please stop plaguing my dreams, its hard enough sleeping in the surf without your constant beestings, and persistant hope. If the surf sees to bring me ashore soon, I hope I feel what you feel, because last impressions told me you were there and happy.