Fear had fully taken over his brain and he could only focus on one single thing: PADDLE FASTER.

…And DO NOT LOOK BEHIND. Just don’t.

Otherwise he´d see them rhythmically and unmistakably gaining on him. Like they were ice skating on the summer lake. Eye sockets intent on the prey.

If he looked back, and was able to detach his sight from their contorted ephemeral bodies, behind them he would see the corpses of his buddies on the tiny island: the splashes of dark red and pinkish morsels on the sandbank all around the « Do not dock under any circumstances » sign.

If he looked back, he would see that they were gaining on him because he was running out of survival stamina as his mind started to give in because he realized that he was paddling away towards a dead end because a flash of sanity reminded him that his car keys were on the island and his cell phone with them, were he’d left them: in his drybag thrown on the sand as he landed his canoe expecting to be greeted by the boys, hoping they would already be naked and that he would skip the awkwardness of the first hour…

His breath was getting shorter with every stroke and through his tears blurred vision he couldn’t tell if he was getting any closer to the shore. Rabbit blind panic took over his unaccustomed gym trained muscles and he paddled on: technically perfect long strokes without a splash, sweating profusely in his cute no-way—to-hide-yellow rain jacket. He was trusted forward so violently that he landed running on the bank in one swoop move. Regaining his balance in the trail, he did look behind him. And there they were : like frozen mid-movement on the edge of the water just by his boat. Stopped there…?