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There was a good, small wave that was protected from the wind, called La Punta. And he wanted to get out into the water as soon as possible.

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Light, clouds, ocean, and stars. And so life begins...
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The End.

Thank you for reading. Thanks for all the kind words. If you want to read and see more go to rightatdawn.com. Another visual novel is coming soon.
She grabbed him by the wrist feeling the muscle and the two bones of his arm. She stood as if she were lucky to be alive. "I watched. Well as much as I could. I had to listen to it all night. Lay awake all night thinking of you, the sound that wouldn’t go away. And worried. They said you wanted to kill yourself. I hoped not." She put the palm of her hand in the air face up and then wiped it away. "But no. No more words now. No explanations." She said. "I love you.”
His tongue muscle down his throat was ready to jump out of his mouth, his jaw about to snap. He grinded his teeth against each other with all his might, as though they would all break. He felt a jolt of consciousness and frantically took three more strokes and kicked his legs as hard as he could. His whole body was ready to break, explode. If this didn’t work, there was nothing left. He was determined that it be that. He took two more strokes and burst through foam into air.
He began to fade, he could not keep a grip on consciousness. He felt lonely, a bit sad. He wasn’t ready to go, that was for sure. He searched for a greater capacity to bear it, to survive. He did not know what in him was keeping his mouth closed against the convulsing of all the muscles of his throat and jaw.
He heard a second wave explode over him. Every tenth of a second became longer as they each seemed to become the last. He lay suspended in the water, his teeth clenched tighter. His mouth was struggling to stay shut, his lungs were starving for oxygen. There was a need of them so deep and urgent it was almost impossible to control. The tingle was spreading throughout his body. I need air, he thought. The second wave struck him.
He felt a strange calm come over him. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Every second under water that deep felt like a hundred, a thousand. Don’t panic, he thought. The waves were stacking up behind him. But he did not know this.
She’d heard the surf in the night and was worried. She was worried about him. She knew what he was up to and was thinking about going to the beachbreak to find him. She was sitting up at the point with her knees clasped between her hands and thinking just how she would tell him. But she was there waiting, not telling him these things, and now she would be waiting.
He was held deep underwater. He expected to come up soon but when he didn't, he thought, you got to be kidding me another wave must be coming soon. He felt panic rising within him, the burning of it deep within. He took a few strokes only to have it push him deeper. And driving deeper still, back to the bottom, he thought, this is unbelievable.
He quickly felt his head strike hard against the water. As he came down with the lip he was driven straight to the bottom as fast and as violently as he had ever had been in his life. He could feel sand under him, the uneven pockets of it, the strange motion of the turbulent water, and the heaviness of it all upon him. Stay calm, don’t worry.
He was gliding through the blue tube, enveloped in the heart of the moving wave as water cascaded over him in a perfect cylinder of cathedral light and size. He felt exalted. He flew through twenty yards of the barrel like this, filling with energy. Then the tapering wall lifted an extremely long section out in front of him. It’s over. I’m going to get crushed, he thought.
The horizon darkened. His eyes went wide, his throat tightened. As soon as he hit the top of the first set wave he could see, and he knew what he had to. There it was, an absolute monster of a wave, bigger than the first. Enormous. This is the one, he told himself. What you have been waiting for. And he sprinted as hard as he had ever paddled for a wave in his entire life.
The sun was over the rim of the Sierras. The anxiousness and the fear had never left, not since it had come to him last night. It had only wound and unwound inside of him. Ebbed and flowed over the hours. It was there heavily now. Almost half an hour went by without a big wave.
The beauty, the appeal, the sheer perfection of the day was unfolding before him. A moment later he watched the first of the colossal walls rise up. After watching it, his heart was thudding, too fast. Enough, he thought, your heart will explode. Calm it and get further outside. Stay composed, he said to himself. The sun was now fully upon him, streaming down through the clear blue air.
There it was, the ocean gleaming in the light. This is no way to feel, he thought. It’s like I’m dying. Like in a story he wished she would suddenly appear – and beg him not to go out. He had never felt such fear in his whole life. It was all slow motion: the giants moving in, the ocean agape, his heart a slow intense beat, striking his chest, his neck pulsing, his eyes acute, a focused silence. In front of him the Pacific was unloading.
That night: Only a second before he had heard the crashing of a wave so large it was inconceivable, he was wide awake. He had come to consider the pounding of the waves as the loud beat of the earth’s great heart. He brushed the sheets aside, spread his limbs out, and lay starfish under the cutting blades of the fan. The collapsing hours intensified and he was trapped among them. The tension, the fear, were currenting through him. You got to be kidding me. He said aloud. It must be huge.
It began in the afternoon six days later. He could observe the small long period lines of the new swell; he knew what it was. He would see the biggest surf of his life the next morning. He was absolutely sure. He knew. He had seen it on the surf reports. There was a calmness in him mixed with uneasiness. He had smiled to himself when he’d first seen it. Again now as a powerful swell moved forth. Here it is. This is what you came for, he thought.
The cool of evening was washing over them and there was the sounds of the cicadas, frogs, and the birds. The smell of the trees next to them and the air still coming in over the ocean had reminded him of the past. And he had thought how the moon would begin to rise later, once he had eaten, so that everything would be moonlit on his way home even later in the night and he loved this life. “But maybe Brayden there is another girl. As there is another wave.” Fernando said. And the grand cathedral of the earth’s night sky was about them.
A ridden wave: he could reconstruct each moment, from beginning to end, he could recall almost every detail, even the scenery as it appeared out of the corner of his eye.