The gurgling, churning darkness beckons. Come closer. Closer.
What are you afraid of?
(Photo: Rob Fiorella)
The ocean is a Witch that is hungry for human souls, and the waves are her beasts that she sends forth to bring her back fresh meat. She devours surfers with a warping ghoul of a wave that lurches and swallows the victim whole. She pulls them out to sea with incessant power. She will never be satiated.
How do we launch ourselves into this heinous cacophony with a smile? As you wade deeper into this Cult of Surfing, you will accept that we are twisted beings in a madhouse of the sea. You are one of us now, and we must feed the witch. Do you think you can leave?
You scatch for a wave. It engulfs you. You become unstuck and are plunged into the trough. Black. No escape. Lungs hammering.
“I need to breathe!”
(Photo: AJ Roulstone)
But the ocean won't let you. Not until she’s done with you. Thrashing, kicking, grasping for what you hope is the surface, but it feels forever just out of reach. It’s like a nightmare where your movement is slowed by some invisible force, and the creature is forever gaining behind you.
You’re spat back up, spluttering; cackling. You turn seaward to paddle back out and subject yourself to more cruelty.
When you’re not surfing, the thoughts infest your mind. In the grocery store aisle, the post office, at the hardware store. Something is watching. A beast is lurking in the forecast, and this one will demand an extra healthy portion of surfboards and souls. Will you feed it this time? Be wary. Every time you do, it grows.
Yet still, we charge seaward. Wide-eyed, and foaming at the mouth, the legions of the damned surfers are enslaved to the Witch. Her spell runs deep, and we are impelled to send it into the most unforgiving climes. No wonder, for we are mad. Every one of us.
(Photo: AJ Roulstone)
And we have all paid the price. No surfer remains unscathed from the violence of the ocean. Whether a mere bump from the surfboard or something more gruesome altogether, have no illusions: Risk is inherent.
But, know this: The true horror lies in a life lived never having stepped out of the threshold of the confines of one's mind. The safety that one seeks there is more insidious than the most toxic spell that the Witch could summon. She is here to set you free from that, in exchange for a lifetime of surfitude in her salty brine. Revel in this gruesome beauty, for in the words of Bukowski, “Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead.”
Happy Halloween, friends, from the possessed surfers of Pacific Surf Company!
(Photo: Rob Fiorella)
Blog written by Adam Tory