by The Idea Girl

Created on: July 10, 2008

Short Story: The Beach That Was

It was a blistering hot day. The sun was shining ever so brightly and the air was sticky and humid. A perfect day to go swimming, I thought to myself. There was once a time that I would have just headed straight to the beach on a day like this.

Pulling out my little bag of goodies. I would blow up my beach ball (if someone else was with me) and then my rubber raft. Unfold my lounge chair. Undress and be sitting there with just my bathing suit on.

There would always be a food stand nearby. I'd go for a short walk and grab a popsicle. Then back to my lounge chair, where I'd put up my feet and then pull out my moisturizing sun block. I'd lather myself from head to toe then have to wipe off the excess on my hands or on my big colourful beach towel.

I'd grab a good mystery and romance paperback and settle down to read a chapter or two. As I began to perspire and feel the trickle of sweat slowly moving down the small of my back, I would pause and look at the water.

Watching the slow, methodic, hypnotizing, lull of the waves as they crashed ashore. I would force myself to end the chapter I was reading then grab my rubber raft and head for the water.

Walking straight in, I'd take a gulp of fresh air and with shock I would submerge myself into the cool water. I'd dunk my head under and swim around for a minute or two. Then I'd crawl up on my rubber raft and swim out further on my tummy.

As soon as I knew the water was shoulder height, I would try and stand on my raft, like a surfer would. With glee I would fall off one side then another, and break out into fits of giggles until I gulped up the water and felt it's bitter taste.

My ears would plug up. How annoying, I can't hear a thing! All except my breathing. Huffing and puffing I'd try again and again. Until finally success! I stood up with my knees bent and rode a small wave.

By now I can see the waves are beginning to pick up and get bigger. I headed into the shore where the biggest looking waves would break. Then turning and standing there, I'd flop over the wave on top of my rubber raft. It was a challenge, not to be sucked under and back out into the lake.

They had a four tiered warning sign that read the following: Green ok to swim, Blue small waves, Yellow Caution strong waves, Red Danger Don't Swim! Strong Undertow!

It always amazed me how many daredevils would ignore that sign. They'd always had to rescue some poor soul and at times pull up a dead body or two. The worst story I heard

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