Washington is an okay place by all means. Go on ahead- explore the deserts, rainforests, beaches, and mountains. I assure you that every single one has its own charm. The coast is something different, though. On a beautiful day, the sun shines, the gulls caw (rather obnoxiously), and the water is cold and inviting. Come nightfall, the stars come out in the millions and feeling of having a campfire warm half of you while the other half gets the breeze off the ocean is the most amazing experience you will remember about the beach. So, yeah. By all means. Go there if you want.
I won’t be coming.
Why not? I experienced everything listed. I bonded with my family. But it’s complicated. More so than you can ever know. I don’t know if it was just at the wrong time, if my horoscope was bad, or if the stars and planets had aligned in a certain, malevolent way.
It started with an idea. Extremely simple. Mom and Dad decided that the family needed “bonding time”. Usually that phrase strikes everyone with fear. Eventually, without my sister’s and my input, the decision was made and the car was packed for a trip to the Olympic peninsula. Woo-hoo.
We (my sister and I) weren’t allowed to bring any entertainment. After all, by my mom, “it was only a five hour ride”. Counting traffic and all, it turned out to be six and a half hours. By the time that we actually reached our destination, everyone was grumpy. That was when we found out that we had to hike to our campsite. Three miles away.
Despite our moods, we took it in stride. Literally. When we arrived, we were sweat soaked and exhausted. We had barely enough energy to pitch the tent and eat PBn’J sandwiches before we passed out on our sleeping bags.
The next morning, the mood was noticeably brighter. It’s a wonder what a full night of sleep can do for a family of cranky people. We got up, cooked pancakes on a propane stove, and had bottled OJ for breakfast. Then, we explored the beach.
The sand towards the top was silky smooth and great for burying little sisters in. Driftwood warning signs cautioning against swimming were weather worn and rustic looking. The kelp in between the sand and ocean was disgusting and covered in swarms of flies. Then, the layer of crushed shells, sea glass, and rocks ran right up to the ocean and was kissed by each wave. I hate to be proved wrong, but it was actually fun. My sister would run to the waves, scream in delight as they washed over her feet, and run back to mom. Repeat process. The ocean was flat, out into oblivion. Directly in front of our campsite was an island, rock half way up and covered in trees the rest of the way. It was the kind of place you could imagine as your own private island with a yacht and mansion.
Thinking back, I wish the day had lasted forever. Then maybe I could have spent more time with mom, dad, and sis. Maybe what happened was destined to. One of those events that the fates had woven with string into the giant loom of life.
Anyways, the day was over all too quickly. We ate canned soup for dinner, cold as we all liked it. We were all huddled in wind breakers, feet buried deep in the sand’s lingering warmth. We sang ridiculous songs and told stupid jokes, enjoying being together. Something that was actually and truly different. At home, mom and dad had work; sometimes they would even bring the stuff home. My sister was at daycare, and I had school, sports, and socializing to take up my schedule.
Nonetheless, it almost made me cry. Almost.
Our vocal chords eventually started to complain of overuse and we lay back in the sand, looking at the stars. They were the most beautiful sight in the world. Eventually, it was decided that sleep was needed if we wanted another amazing day tomorrow. Surprisingly, sleep cane mercifully quickly.
The next time I opened my eyes, it was all different.
It was dark out. Not nighttime dark, but close enough. I went outside the tent to discover that a fog had swept in. It was nothing like the fog that came in over the mainland; it was so thick that I couldn’t even see the layer of kelp on the beach, just ten feet in front of me. My first thought was that it was evil- I didn’t really know why at the time. I consoled myself with the fact that I had been stupid and had read Stephen King’s The Mist before I came.
Eventually Mom, Dad, and Sis woke up. Mom and Dad cooked breakfast (oatmeal), on the ever-useful propane stoves and Sis was exploring around the campsite. I sat on a log and waited to be fed.
Sis came running towards me, her cheeks flushed. “I thaw a waccoon!” she exclaimed in childish delight. “Ith was big, scawwy and cute!”
A smiled, half acknowledging her, half lost in a sort of sleepy stupor. Absentmindedly, I told her that that was nice. She giggled, and ran back the way she had come; pink shirt disappearing into the fog. That was the last I had ever seen of her.
Breakfast was finally finished cooking when Mom and Dad realized that Sis was really and truly missing. Desperate, Mom and Dad took flashlights and ran the way that I told them Sis had gone, after the raccoon. That was the last I saw them, too.
I waited. I don’t know how many hours, but I knew that I had waited and for a while. I was beginning to worry. I had the feeling that everyone gets after watching a horror movie about someone getting stalked in their own home, and turned off the film to find that night had fallen, their house was dark, and they were very, very alone.
So when the feral growling sound behind me came, I was scared out of my mind. I whipped around to see glowing eyes hovering in the mist. The growling was strange, and I was even more horrified when I realized that the creature seemed to be laughing. I heard something brush against the leaves of the trees surrounding the campsite, and I stumbled backwards. When the thing made a thump in front of me, I dared to look.
It was the worst thing I had ever seen. I still see it now, every time my eyes close. Every time I dream. It was my sister’s head. Nothing else. Her eyes were gone, and her hair was half gone too; the rest of the hair and flesh was stained nearly black with blood.
That was when I ran. I couldn’t stay on the land with that creature. I was certain that my parents were dead too. If they weren’t, screaming would only draw them to the creature. I pounded through the sand and past the stinking kelp. I almost faltered when I realized that the waves of the ocean had more than tripled in size. That single moment of hesitation allowed the creature to catch up, and I flew forward as its claws ripped through my shirt, into my back.
I won’t be shy about it. It hurt. Especially when I fell into the waves, and saltwater rushed into the wounds. As I was tumbled and spun through the turbulent sea, I grimly realized that my broken arm in seventh grade was a pale comparison to what I was feeling right now. So was my rejection from the only person I had ever had a crush on.
I struggled to the surface of the ocean just in time to remember the driftwood warning signs on the beach. Then, a gigantic log caught me across my stomach and I felt my breath whoosh out of me. Instinctively, I sucked air back into my lungs. That was when the log caught me again, this time on my head. I don’t remember anything else.
I was lucky to survive. That’s what people told me as rescuers came to the island a few days later and air lifted me off of the sandy beaches. A camp ranger had come to check by a campsite that should have been checked out, only to find a scene ripped straight from some of the worst horror movies out there. He ran to the beach, and was able to see in the clearing fog what looked to be a body on the island out in the ocean. It turns out I’ll have scars for the rest of my life, a broken rib to mend, and a new family to find. I’ll never be the same.
So, yeah. Go out and enjoy the beauty of Washington State. I’ll be right here, waiting to see if you come back.
Warped Imagination Community Member 
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