Time and Tide
A short story by Grant Davis
Put it down to youth and high spirits or plain stupidity; failing to get
a weather prediction and asking about tide times. Whatever the reason it
made no difference now. My heart clattered in my chest as I surveyed the
sheer cliffs, with the rain sleeting in my half closed eyes. A few
straggling gulls came in from off the sea, gamely finding refuge in the
scant few clefts of rock. I looked back the way I had come and surveyed of
mile of rocky beach, now at half tide, a mass of boulder rocks, wet and
treacherous. Using a suitable piece of driftwood under my armpit as a
crutch, I forged ahead forward again. There was little else for it. The way
ahead was mostly sandy beach, broken by the odd boulder which could be
skirted. The question was whether there was any to leave the beach if I
carried on. . .
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