The sun was going down in a deep, rich hue of red, with streaks of green and pink laced across the skyline, receding far into the horizon, melding with the blue-green of the ocean beyond. A few fun-seekers lingered on daring the waters, wary of the high tide that came after the day’s close.
Suswam had spent the day frolicking with one girl and on to the next. There were lots of them that came to this side of town to enjoy the cool breeze and sight of tall palm trees arranged on the white sands, hung leaves swaying about. He had a good feel of them but all but emptied his pockets buying chilled tropicana juices, beefy chicken and horse rides, then a few souvenirs. The numbers in his phone were his handy recompense and he chuckled inside at the thought. He was going to do more exploring later. Left only in pictured orange shorts he checked his Swatch again, “6:40” said the time. “One last swim then I go home,” he paced to the looming seas not minding swimmers in the distance moving out. The familiar weight of the tides bore on his ankles as he trudged more past the shore and then he waited . . . took a dive when the next incoming wave came. He enjoyed sloshing around as he was carried on by the oceans. The cold waters were exhilarating. He [^drifted] as the tides waned and dove down deep when they came hard. Faded voices from the distance reached his ears but they didn’t register, Suswam hadn’t had this much fun since that running tingles he had at his first roll in the ocean at Lagos Bar beach 7 years back. He had gotten more experience after that.
Coming up once more he was surprised, “how am I so far away?” He saw onlookers waving their hands in the distance and it clicked. The high tide came in earlier today. The familiar assurance with people around turned to sop. On his own now, with water more than a dozen feet deep under him. He sunk as the next wave came tossing him in circles like clothes in a washer. He knew the best he could do was hold his breath_*thank heavens he was good at that*_and closed his eyes hoping fate bode him well. Then ease, but he was still at sea. Opening his eyes he couldn’t make out much before him as his body hung suspended. He swam up to focused to bother over what happened. But his powerful kicks of his legs grew weaker, he was that deep under. He was slipping away, another debt to be repaid to the place from which all humans came. He could only briefly bemoan the prospect of a sallow bloated corpse becoming fish feed, his fair yellow skin rubbished under Death’s scepter. One weak lunge upwards came again, his lungs had been rioting for several seconds now, as his hands reflexively held his mouth with his eyes rapidly blinking. Acrid-tasting water like fish feed with rotten eggs filled his mouth rushing in as he trashed on.
At that moment he felt something grab his torso.
Uyi Iredia (3/1/2018)
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