Wet feet slap the sand. He sees the lights in the islands ahead. Vestiges of civilization in the moonlight. His ever stride a desperate plea for the sanctuary of solid ground and a bolted door.
Blood soaks his side. He clutches the stump where his left arm has been torn off. He looks back across the dark sandbar and the deep black waters surrounding it. Within, a hulking predator looms, unseen and unsated.
Paddy Dobson
8th November 2021