Thursday, November 14, 2019
Trapped :: essays research papers
Crash, Swish, Roar. The lonely empty silence is overpowered by a wall of foam rushing towards me. Wheels of sand are churning beneath my feet. My golden locks are flattened and hunched over my head to form a thick curtain over my eyes. Light ripples are printed against my olive stomach as the sun beams through the oceans unsteadiness. I look below me and canââ¬â¢t see where the sand bank ends; I look above and realize itââ¬â¢s a long way to the top. Donââ¬â¢t panic Kate, youââ¬â¢ll get through this. I try to paddle to the top but am halted by something severely weighing me down- My board. Thatââ¬â¢s what got me in this mess in the first place. I can see the floral pattern peeping through the sand that is rapidly crawling over it. I quickly rip apart the Velcro of my foot strap and watch my board float to the surface effortlessly as I attempt climbing through the water to reach the surface. The fin of my board becomes more visible to me as I ascend. Finally, an alleviating sensation blasts through my mouth. Air. Crash, Swish, Roar. Just as I get a breath, the powerful monster swallows me once more. It finally hits me that Iââ¬â¢m going to be under a long time. These are 20 ft waves, I think to myself. There is no way I am getting out of here the easy way. I feel the blood surge to my head as the paranoia sets in. When I was 5 years old, Dad woke me up one morning and informed me that he was finally going to teach me how to surf. I was ecstatic. I used to watch my brothers in envy as I crouched on the damp sand with my head between my hands resting on my knees, sulking at the fact that I wasnââ¬â¢t allowed to surf until I was 5. Well, that time arrived when Dad was taking me, and nothing was going to hold me back. I watched Dad approach me as he returned from a blue and white hire tent with a long (well what seemed long at the time), bright yellow foam board. It had a small white fin sticking out its rear. We stayed shallow and like any impatient 5 year old I began to suffer from frustration as I continuously nose dived into the sand at my efforts to stand up.
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