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Weekly Contest #324
In the mornings, the ocean is nothing but a wall of foam. Wave after wave of this quivering white froth only reminds me of the gritty porridge they served in the sickbay. At the highest point of the island, looking out from the cliff of jagged black rocks, I see nothing but ocean. Foam turns to dark water, and it all disappears into the mist after that. I watch the waves pummel the rocks. Beneath the sound of the water, an odd crunching noise rings out behind me. I whip around to find those beady little red eyes staring back at me once again...
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