When I was in college I dreamed about spending Spring Break at Myrtle Beach. The vision of palm trees and beautiful waves was a wonderful escape from the long hours of study. One year, my buddies and I decided to go for it. We saved our pennies, loaded up an old station wagon and headed down to South Carolina to bake in the sun. When we arrived, we spent most of our time body surfing.
The waves were huge—the biggest I can remember. Their frothy crests rose into the air and crashed onto the white sand like a spilt bucket of mop water.
My four friends and I waded into the ocean. Sure enough, a big one came along, yawning open like a giant mouth ready to swallow us whole. I crouched down and dove into the wave, swimming with all my might.
The water rushed around me and I tumbled upside down, skipping along the ocean floor like a piece of gravel on the highway. A blast of sand covered my body and I held my breath. With my eyes closed, I thought I should come up for air pretty soon if I didn’t want to drown. I swam upward and felt my head breach the surface. I gasped for air and treaded water before the wave grabbed me and flung me onto the beach like a dirty dish rag.
I lay there like a dead starfish and wondered where I was. Stumbling to my feet, I knocked the water out of my ears and heard a crowd cheering to my left. I turned and gave a smile. “I’m alright!” I waved. “Great ride, everybody!” Just then something tugged at my feet. There, down around my ankles, were my swim shorts.
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Phillip Hall is a story teller. His stories "Find Your Calling" and "Flirting with Reality" were published by Underwood Press and Open: Journal of Arts and Letters. He is currently working on two different novels, hoping to publish them in the near future.
