It was the first weekend in September. The summer holidays were over,
and the schools had started back. I was on the beach for the first
time after a long week at work.
As Stratton was such a small Cornish town, there were very few people
on the beach. My next-door neighbour and drinking partner, Hamish
Pengelly was just leaving the beach after walking his dog, Graham
Smith; the new owner of Stratton Manor was on the beach watching his
son, Charlie, playing in a rubber dingy in the water. Also, Samantha
Creeme, the mechanic for the nearest town, Bude, was on lifeguard
It was one of those pleasant days where it was warm, but quite windy.
It had become slightly windier as the day approached mid afternoon,
but it was bearable. I sat at the edge of the beach in my fleece
reading a Dorothy Dunnet novel.
I probably would have stayed in this position for the rest of the day,
if it weren't for a faint shriek I could hear coming from the
I looked up from my book and I could see Charlie Smith, rapidly being
dragged out by the current, waving his arms and the air and shouting
recklessly for help.
Stratton is famous for its currents. Only one person has died here in
the past decade, but before the lifeguard system had been developed,
the numbers were much higher. The strength of the current was due to
the canal, which creates a massive rip tide, so the beach has to have
permanent supervision during the warmer months.
In the distance, I could see Samantha Creeme dragging her life
surfboard to the waters edge. I instinctively ran down the lower beach
to where Graham ...
... middle of paper ...
...sisted that she would be able to paddle back on her
surfboard, as she was specially trained for this type of a situation.
The paddle back was much more strenuous than the paddle there, as this
time we had to fight against the current. But something, I don't know
what, probably adrenalin, kept us moving on. It felt as though my arms
were going to fall off, but all the time, I kept thinking to myself,
'You have to keep moving on. Lives are at steak here.'
We finally reached the shore. Somebody must have seen what was going
on, as when we reached the waters edge, a towel was immediately
wrapped around each of us, and we were all taken off to an ambulance.
I looked back from the top of the beach, as I remembered that Samantha
must have still been fighting her way back against the waves. But, she
was nowhere to be seen.
Need Writing Help?
Get feedback on grammar, clarity, concision and logic instantly.Check your paper »
- When a fire is ignited many things are thrown into to keep it burning, however the fire will bring down all the items tossed into it; eventually the fire will fade. When the fire fades, only one item will remain whole amongst the ashes. The way only the strongest items survive is related to life. Life is full of lessons, speeches, and dreams that will prove to be life changing, however only the strongest of those items with the deepest meanings will survive. Growing up I know everyone has got the speech about accepting who they are and believing in themselves, however today everybody feels a sense of insecurity with the way the media stereotypes how they should be in order to be the be... [tags: essay about myself, Personal Experience]
1044 words (3 pages)
- Everyone should remember that fateful day when terrorist threatened our country. The planes crashed straight into two of our most prized and memorable buildings in New York. People were terrified, shocked and devastated when the news spread. That moment will forever be engraved in our minds. So many lives were changed in a matter of minutes. September 11th, 2001, was the beginning of my mind opening journey to get home. It started out as a trip my Grammy and I made to Utah, to visit my cousin and her family.... [tags: personal narrative]
654 words (1.9 pages)
- A Place to Remember When I was sixteen years of age, my Gram, Aunt Jamie, and I went to Scotland. We visited many places, such as Edinburgh, Sterling, and Dumfries. We also visited Arundel, Windsor, and London in England. The most exciting part of our trip was when we went and saw the house my Grandad born in and the family house. As I looked at those houses, I felt like I was home, I had found the place I was supposed to be. All my life I have known who I was and where I was from, I am Scottish, my Grandad was born in Scotland, so in a way, I am from Scotland as well.... [tags: Personal Narrative Descent Essays]
1006 words (2.9 pages)
- Personal Narrative: White Water Rafting I remember a time in my life not too long ago when my family and I went white water rafting for the first time. We had been spending some of our summer vacation at a cabin in the Smokey Mountains, close to Gatlinburg, Tennessee. The next day we would experience feelings of exhilarating excitement, with a sense of suspense and anticipation as we rafted down the Nantahala River. I recall in vivid detail the scenery around us as we embarked on our perilous journey down the Nantahala.... [tags: Personal Narrative Essays]
635 words (1.8 pages)
- Personal Narrative- Photo Remember back to the times of your youth, when a family member or friend would grace you with a gift. Remember that butterfly feeling you would get in the pit of your stomach and work itself outward and make you tingle with anticipation. Remember waking up early on Christmas morning way ahead of your parents only to attempt to wait patiently until they arose. Remember the moans of despair when they finally did clamber out of their bed to tell you that breakfast must be eaten first before gifts are opened.... [tags: Personal Narrative Photograph Picture]
435 words (1.2 pages)
- I Remember I remember Rick's face as he turned away from the window and came back toward his seat that day; it had a look of horror I was to never forget. His face expressed seriousness, disbelief, and sadness. We were all terror-stricken after we knew the awful truth, but Rick had seen it. He knew before all of us. Even before his eyes began to have problems, he was visibly affected by the bomb. I remember that day as if it were yesterday. It all started with more subtle things such as the small bomb at the World Trade Center, but then bigger disasters began to occur.... [tags: Personal Narrative Nuclear Bombing Violence Essay]
1740 words (5 pages)
- Personal Narrative- Victim of Robbery My story started about a week ago. I was heading to bed early, because I was tired from a long day with plans to wake up a few hours before class to review for a test. As I closed my books for the evening and headed to bed around midnight, little did I know something was going on outside. A little later that night someone entered my garage, which was so conveniently unlocked. They first rummaged through my dad’s van outside and I think they stole his coat, a tape and a few rolls of film.... [tags: Personal Narrative]
691 words (2 pages)
- Personal Narrative- Eventful Thanksgiving The crisp, cool, and cinnamon air filled the morning of Thanksgiving in 1987. Although I was only two years and eleven months old, I remember the scratchy, fuzzy, purple- footed pajamas that I was wearing that morning. After I woke up, I "helped" my mom make her famous orange- cranberry relish, got dressed in my cream sweater dotted with cherries and my navy pleated skirt, topped off with my favorite cream fuzz- warn tights, and before I knew it we were out the door to my grandmother's house.... [tags: Personal Narrative]
503 words (1.4 pages)
- Personal Narrative- Varsity Volleyball I first started playing volleyball at a very young age. I was in the seventh grade when my volleyball career started. My sister started playing in the seventh grade and I just wanted to follow her footsteps. My seventh grade year was ok because I had just started out and really didn’t know the game. There was A team and a B team, where A team was better than the B team. I tried my best to be on the A-team, but guess where I ended up, on the B team. No matter what team I was on I never gave up.... [tags: Personal Narrative]
512 words (1.5 pages)
- Personal Narrative- Christmas Cookies Although I have grown up to be entirely inept at the art of cooking, as to make even the most wretched chef ridicule my sad baking attempts, my childhood would have indicated otherwise; I was always on the countertop next to my mother’s cooking bowl, adding and mixing ingredients that would doubtlessly create a delicious food. When I was younger, cooking came intrinsically with the holiday season, which made that time of year the prime occasion for me to unite with ounces and ounces of satin dark chocolate, various other messy and gooey ingredients, numerous cooking utensils, and the assistance of my mother to cook what would soon be an edible masterpie... [tags: Personal Narrative]
564 words (1.6 pages)