PROMPT: write a story that starts and ends with the same sentence

Another wave washed over me.

Gentle at first, but then with a fiercer, building anger as the westerly winds whipped the ocean into a frenzy. I surfaced amongst white horses, rearing up where there had only been calm before. The salt water stung my chapped lips with a bitter taste entering my mouth.

The moment I tried to cry for help, the water rushed in, aided by my attempt to suck in a breath of desired air. The waves were choppy and battered my head from side to side, sending my vision spinning. The blue of the ocean morphed with that of the sky until I could no longer distinguish up from down; right from wrong.

My arms had taken on a life of their own, flailing around uselessly – until I forced myself to calm down. I pushed down with my palms and lifted my head above the water just long enough to inhale fresh, clean air.

God, how good it is to breathe.

The waves seemed to calm a little, so I seized the opportunity to begin the long swim back to shore, my surfboard trailing behind me. See, the best waves are out deep, and I'd never had a problem with surfing before today. Something was off about today, that much I knew.

I scanned the sandy horizon for my pile of belongings, only to see that the neon blue towel was further away than I'd thought. It seemed I'd drifted across the bay somehow, without my knowing.

I paused swimming and felt the menacing current tug at my body, easing me along the bay and out into the deeper ocean.

Clinging onto either side of my board, I swung a leg over and raised myself to straddle it. In a quick motion, I lay down on the board and stretched my arms out in front of me.

One at a time, girl. You've got this.

Waves crested over the nose of my board, splashing me in the face frequently, while I paddled back to the beach. I cursed my bad luck; why couldn't I have just waited for my brother to come out with me? I'd been selfish, wanting the waves all to myself. Instead of waiting for his shift at the beach café to be over, I'd grabbed my board and snuck down to the quiet end of the beach – the one away from all the tourists and the hubbub.

Both a blessing and a curse, it seemed. The blessing was that I was alone – the curse was the same.

I powered on through the water and ignored the muscle-related burn building in my shoulders.

The wind picked up again and the waves complied, letting themselves be tossed higher into the air. That cruel current pulls at my board, coinciding with a wave crashing down right on my back – resulting in me ending up under the waves once again.

Rocks scraped along my back, shocking me as I felt their sharp peaks cut through my wetsuit – no doubt I was bleeding.

Placing my feet on the rocks, I push myself up to the surface and gasp desperately.

Another wave washed over me.

(526 words)