The Shaman's Tale by Lieberman D

Author:Lieberman, D.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-09-19T16:00:00+00:00

45.

I woke up from a few huge bumps in the road during the daylong bus ride down to Paso. When I arrived, it was far from a magical looking place. The image I had was completely different from what I actually saw. There were loose chickens running around the rustic shacks that made up the town’s center. I was terrified that I had made a huge mistake. It was something out of an old Clint Eastwood western and I was certainly no Clint. Real tumbleweeds rolled over the dirt road. I could hear the ocean all the way from town, so quickly, I headed towards the beach figuring it was safer than the bus stop. I avoided the beggars and locals who were all staring, perhaps sizing me up as an easy target. It probably looked like I was speed walking my way through. At first glance, there didn’t appear to be a single American anywhere. Everyone dressed in checkered and plaid, long sleeve shirts with jeans. It’s too hot for that kind of clothing I thought. They were all laughing and yelling with each other. I felt very out of place and I began to worry that this could be worse than a mistake; this could be fatal. Speed walking turned into a jog, and then into a run where I plopped down, breathless, into the sand.

The ocean had two dozen surfers wading, timing themselves for their next ride. The next few waves that rolled in were the size of small mountains. Then they were all simultaneously surfing the same wave, but not getting in each other’s way. They had a synchronicity that I'd never seen before. It was a remarkable sight. Still flooded with dread and ominous feelings, I moved closer to the shoreline.

There is no way I could surf something that large. The wave didn't break the way most normal waves do. This wave crashed all at once, knocking over all twenty-five surfers in one swoop. One by one, they surfaced, paddling to get out of the water. No one gave me a second glance as they cursed the wipeout. Except for the last guy who was getting out of the water with slick black and gray hair and a bloody gash on his face. The shine off the water surface was so intense that my vision blurred.

He stomped right up to me, dropped his board to the sand and yelled out, "TOO CLOSE!" And then he punched me in the face, knocking me backwards to the ground.

They were all whispering about me to each other. Once the world stopped spinning and my dizziness faded, I held my jaw and stood up. All the locals and surfers alike were sitting around watching me. The big guy who knocked me out was talking to his buddies; he was still really pissed off and kept motioning over at me. Terrified that I had a gang lynching coming, I decided the best thing to do was run off the beach and get out of town.

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