Alma stared at the rocks. They were brown and rough, like the ones back home. She didn’t want to be on the beach with her parents, but she was there anyway, because she sixteen and they made her come. Sure, Italy was fine, but so were the Seattle woods. She missed them.

With a sigh, she stretched and walked towards the shore. Her parents were at the swim-up bar, and had been there for quite some time. She wondered if they remembered bringing her or not.

On the side of the rock was white foam, washing the stone like a power washer would wash a car. It came and went, came and went, went and came, and Alma watched it, feeling somewhat calm.

Then she heard a thick slap, and watched as a large, human body rolled into the rock and towrads the shore. Towards her.

“Help!” She screamed, looking out at the dead, bloated body being washed in to the sands.