Page 3 of The Surfer

I need to prove that this isn’t just my passion.

No, not just that, I need to prove that this is my life’s calling.

Surfing’s the best feeling in the entire world and I intend to make it my career.

And I’m about to win this competition. Riding this wave in front of my family and a stand full of potential sponsors, scouts and surfers truly makes this the best day of my life.

I look up from my surfboard to spot the spectator stand one more time, hoping to catch a glimpse of either my beautiful model girlfriend or my sister, or even my dad watching me.

But that’s a mistake. A big mistake.

My legs tremble beneath me, my balance stumbles.

I’ve suddenly lost control of the board.

All those years of practice can’t stop the surfboard from slipping away under my feet.

No.

All those years can’t stop me from tumbling forward.

Fuck.

And all those years can’t stop me from falling, face forward, into the blue ocean at full speed. The impact’s so strong that it feels like my body’s slamming into concrete.

Oh, shit.

And then the last thing I see before I blackout is the massive wave collapsing on top of me.