It's time for the Third Campaigner Challenge. Better (nearly) late than never...
I gently lay my arm along the railing, careful not to get a splinter from the rough wood. I lay my other arm next to it, and then I leaned in. As the waves crashed towards the shore, I felt like I could be moving in the opposite direction. I steadied myself against the railing, reminding myself that I was still and the ocean was moving.
The salty air kissed my lips as the wind roared in my ears. I should have remembered to bring a sweater. I forgot how cool it could be. The forecast predicted temperatures into the mid-80s, but that would be later. Right now it was downright chilly.
The ocean was filled with surfers. I heard the surf report on the radio, but the numbers meant nothing to me. The announcer sounded happy, though, so it must have meant the surfing was good.
The wind changed direction momentarily, and I almost gagged. I turned to find an old man holding a fishing pole. Apparently, he was having some luck. I turned back to watch the surfers.
They were all swimming for the shore. I could discern shouting, but I couldn’t make out the words. Then I saw a few of them pointing. I peered out that direction, and then I saw it. A small triangular gray fin.
No! Not here. That’s impossible.
A crowd of people swarmed towards my spot. It wouldn’t be long before news crews arrived. I took that as my cue, and I headed back down the pier.
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