Kamala Beach

BANG, BANG, BANG!

The volume increased, like the frenzied beat of a bass drum of his fear. As horrified panic exploded in his head; he sank to his knees defeated on the sands of Kamala beach, in complete and utter despair. He tasted his fears, through weeping eyes, those tears stung; whipped up by wind as they entered his exposed open mouth. Open, dry and caked with the gritty sand blown on the wind, now mixed with the salinity of his tears.

He had lost his son, Kyle and Kyle’s friend Finn, to the gluttony of the sea.

The overwhelming sound of his drumming heartbeat; beating widely inside his distraught body. Full of anguish and pain. On the edge of insanity. Fragile in a frightened fixation of horror, as blood battered and hammered against his ear drums. The start of violent uncontrollable convulsions combined insufferably with his heavy breathing from his exertions. Panic stricken by the sudden turn of events, and the distressing choices he had made. He was about to have a seizure as the horrifying incident unraveled dangerously in his weaken mind. The resulting consequences of his actions were unforgiveable and would haunt him for eternity. Now those choices were tearing at every fibre of his sanity. It would haunt his soul, taunt his spirit in fiery hell.

He had sacrificed his son, and Finn, to save Molly.

He felt the tightening muscles of his pharynx; something was constricting his throat. The uncontrolled banging of his heart, the intense blood pressure was trying to strangle him, suffocate him.

He must breathe!

Breathe, for god’s sake, breathe!

BANG, BANG, BANG!

Beware; it was the sound of his internal alarm system, a warning; both his heart and mind were on the edge of collapse. It was the sound of uncontrollable panic! Overwhelming all his senses and making him completely helpless, making him impotent, powerless and completely ineffective, when in this traumatic moment he needed to be empowered.

He must find his son, and Finn. Every second counted.

He was unable to think, as pumping blood increased its pressure, and created the banging sound in his ears, his head was completely consumed with nasty, ugly thoughts, contemplating his sudden and unexpected loss. It suffocated all other rational thoughts, sucking out all his energy, as wave upon wave of panic consumed his body and mind. Held captive, entwined and imprisoned by invisible vines, pulling ever tighter, draining all his strength.

CRASH, CRASH, CRASH.

The urgent incoming waves sounded more threatening than ever, he had purposely turned his back on the incoming angry breaking waves, he couldn’t face them anymore, he felt helpless, like a small child.

Why didn’t she come to help? Was she really unaware of the danger? Now it was too late. He despised her existence.

He had warned Kyle and Finn of the danger, but they were the innocent victims in this suddenly terrifying drama. Held hostage by the jaws of the violent rip tide. He was shocked by the power of the receding seawater, which grabbed and tugged at their ankles. Both the tide and shifting sands conspired to capture them all.

In a violent second, the sea had taken two of the four!

What had started out so innocuously as a gesture of goodwill; had turned into an ephialtes beyond imagination. He was on vacation with his wife and seven-year-old child. They arrived at their resort destination at Phuket, with anticipated excitement having previously stayed at the same location. The private resort was idyll and a relaxing oasis of pleasure. At the rock pool they met a young family from Dublin. Finn and their son Kyle were both playful, full of adventure, and played together with Finn’s younger sister Molly, who was around 3 or 4 years old. The Irish couple also had a small baby, which restricted their movement; meaning the family were tied down to the resort and the amenities provided. At most an evening stroll around the resort campus each night. Sadly, the Irish family were unable to explore the beautiful island of Phuket.

The man and his wife had rented an open top jeep to drive around the island, which they knew so well from previous trips. They had fallen in love with the many sandy bays; the gentle ambience and stunning vistas of Phuket. Especially their rustic jungle resort location, nonetheless, made comfortable with all the modern conveniences. Previously it had been shared with a larger family group, but their older children grew up and gradually moved away from the core group into their own separate vacation arrangements. Now the family consisted of Mum, Dad, and one small boy named Kyle.

“We can take Finn and Molly with us today, if that’s OK with you?” The man and his wife offered.

“It’s company for Kyle. They all play together so well.” They added with justification, as well as a tactic of persuasion.

The Dublin couple didn’t need any convincing. A baby will sleep during the day; but both Molly and Finn were active all day, a handful on the best of days. So, the Irish couple contemplated an easy lazy break from their daily routine and thankfully agreed to the kind offer.

The priority of the day trip was to find a quiet beach, with as fewer people as possible. Where the children could play, build sandcastles, and play in the shallows of sea. Kamala beach was ideal. A horseshoe bay, completely accessible from the road, endless sand and rolling waves. Unfortunately, the vision lulled the group into a nightmare scenario, as soon as they had parked their belongings on the beach, the man took the children for a playful frolic in the incoming rolling waves. There is nothing like playing in the bubbling surf, first the waves break; invading the sandy beach, until the retreating backwash attempts to suck the sand and pebbles into the vast seawaters like hungry thieves.

The man told all the children to hold hands, he held Molly’s hand on the right side, and the two boys linked hands on the left side, a human chain. The beach was quite steep, as they entered the frothy, gurgling waters.

As soon as they all stepped into the incoming and outcoming surf the man knew they were in grave danger. The backwash was swift and strong, and the steep incline of the beach increased the velocity of the receding waves.

“Hold tight, grasp each other’s hands! Don’t let go!”

He knew he could only hold two of the children, one on the left, one on the right. He didn’t have overall control, and every minute the danger intensified.

What increased his sudden dilemma was that the two boys didn’t understand the perilous situation, as the boys jumped about, laughing and screaming as the breaking waves cascaded amongst their leaping bodies, just about able to keep on their feet. Unfortunately, it was the backwash that was the devious threat, as it raced backwards, with more speed than the incoming breaking wave. It was more threatening as the children were facing the incoming waves, and the swift backwash combined with the shifting sand took their legs away and made them fall backwards into the next incoming wave.

The man recognized immediately what was about to happen, as he stood there trying grimly to hold onto two of the arms of the children in the middle of the dangerous rip tide.

He shouted out to his wife, to come to his aid. Panic was rising in his mind, he knew the inevitability of the dire situation, which only increased and heightened in his panicked mind.

The devious wind whipped away his urgent cries, as the man’s wife continued to read and ignore his pleas for desperate help.

He had to make a difficult and uncomfortable choice, he couldn’t wait for his wife to come to his urgent aid, he had to get Molly the girl out of the water. She was the greatest at risk, watching her at the resort rock pool, he had observed she was not a confident swimmer and always wore armbands.

His left hand tried to grab the arm of one of boys, who had slipped backwards, laughing at the force of the waves, unaware that the rip tide could take them out past their standing depth. The next wave took both the boys beyond his grasp and control. He turned and pulled Molly towards the safety of beach, which remarkably was only a matter of a few feet away.

He ran towards his wife clutching Molly’s arm tightly, overwhelmed with panic, as every step moving towards his wife was moving away from the two boys floundering in the strong rip tide. He felt a sense of betrayal of his human responsibilities. It weighed him down, as he literally dumped Molly down beside his wife, and turned back towards the sea.

The banging was now increasing in volume inside his head; panic had now completely consumed him. Suddenly, the crashing of each wave held a new menacing message, as he searched for the two boys. He went down towards the surf line ready to jump into the waves and grab both the two boys, but he couldn’t find them.

It was a horrific realization, and internal banging inside his head, and the evil sound of the crashing waves outside, conspired to create the panic attack which left him immobile. Completely ineffective.

Fortunately, two men, two angels somewhere on the beach were alerted by his earlier frantic cries and witnessed the two boys being swept out to sea. Both were good swimmers and thankfully both men pulled the two boys back to the safety of the beach.

The traumatic event happened in seconds, but the memory left a scar, a memory that has been burnt into the man's mind, a reminiscence that always causes an unwelcome shudder, and coldness to the bones of his soul. On returning to the resort, the man and woman confessed to the Irish couple, the traumatic events of the day, and for the remainder of the holiday sought the safety of the manmade rockpools.