Death Wave ©
(published in Chicken Soup for the Christian Teenage Soul, June 2003)
(published in the July 2003 issue of Insight Magazine as Killer Wave)

It was five-thirty in the morning and I was fast asleep.
Plink. Plink.
I was dreaming about waves, perfect rides.
Plink. Plink. Plink.
I was drifting between my glorious dreams and consciousness.
Plink. Plunk!
Startled, my eyes popped open.
“It must be Matt,” I thought. Moving quickly, I opened my second story window knowing Matt was outside. “I’ll be down in a minute,” I whispered loudly.
Part of our pre-dawn ritual, as surfing buddies we had a system. Whoever woke up first had to wake the other. My room was upstairs so Matt had to throw pebbles at my window to wake me.

      Bicycling away towards the beach, we left our sleeping neighborhood behind. Rounding the corner to the beach entrance, we could hear the gentle crashing sound of the waves. As we got closer, the sounds grew louder. In the dead of the morning the waves seemed to call us with their rhythmic voices; one after another, “kishhh, kishhh, … kishhh.”
     Walking across the sandy beach towards the water, our senses were filled with the smell of salt water and the increasing sound of breaking waves. We entered the water up to our waists and with our boards by our sides, we stood watching and calculating. We silently stared seaward as if frozen in the pre-dawn darkness.
     Suddenly I yelled “Now!” and we jumped on our boards and began paddling powerfully out to sea. For waves this size, timing was critical. Sets of waves would come in, one after another. But every so often there would be a slight lull in the sets. This was our chance. If we paddled hard and fast we could make it out to the break line and not get caught by the big surf that would push us back to shore.
     As the rays from the rising sun began peeking over the eastern mountains, Matt and I made it out to the break line. It was an awesome day! The waves were large, about eight to ten feet high.
     The first wave came in quickly, and to my disappointment, Matt had better positioning and caught this beautiful wave and rode it long and hard into shore. I watched him for awhile before turning back towards the sea. Soon enough there was another wave forming and coming right at me. “Awesome,” I thought, “this one is mine.” I started paddling to meet it. As I paddled I noticed that this wave was larger than the rest. I started paddling a little harder. “Oh, man this one’s big!” I thought. I really started digging my arms in now. As I got closer to this oncoming wave I slowly realized that this wave was enormous. On a day with surf around eight to ten feet high, here was a wave that seemed twice that size. Fear began to enter my heart. “Paddle, paddle!” I thought to myself. “I’ve got to get over this wave or it’s going to have me for lunch!”
    As I feverishly paddled with all of my strength, the wave began to crest in front of me. Sucking me towards itself as it swelled, I knew I wasn’t going to make it over this wave. Normally, the best thing to do was to ditch my board and try to swim for the ocean bottom. This would keep the wave from breaking directly on my head, thus insulating me from the brunt of the wave’s power. However, this would not keep me from the unavoidable turbulence that would drag me under water for long seconds, and in the case of this large wave, probably minutes. However, this was my only choice.
    As time stood still, I pushed my surfboard away from myself. I took a deep breath, figuring I would be under for a long, long time. Then I glanced up to see the cresting lip of this enormous wave rushing towards me. Engulfed with fear, I thought this was the end. As loud as a young man can think, my mind and heart yelled, “Oh, God help!” Then I dove.

      Meanwhile, Matt, a great swimmer with lifeguard training, was watching this whole dramatic episode unfold from the shore. Matt, knowing his friend was in grave danger, turned his surfboard towards the sea and with each powerful stroke of his arms prayed. “Oh, God, let him be alright. Oh, God, please let him be alright.”
     As Matt fought the large surf, he finally made it out to the break line. A little further out he saw my surfboard. His heart jumped. Matt turned his board and paddled towards it. As he got closer he could see the top of my head next to my surfboard. “Oh, God, let him be alive. Please let him still be alive.”
     Getting closer Matt couldn’t believe his eyes. I was treading water with my arm draped over my surfboard. I seemed to be all right. “Are you ok? Are you all right?” Matt shouted.
     Dazed, I slowly turned my head towards my approaching friend. Then after a moment, I said softly, “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just fine.”
     “Well, what happened? What happened!” Matt demanded. “I saw it all from the shore. You were an ant compared to that wave. I thought you were done. I thought it was going to kill you.”
     “I don’t know,” I said with quiet amazement. “I thought I was dead too. But the wave, it didn’t hurt me, it didn’t even take me, it just disappeared, I think.”
     “Well, it broke right on top of you. I saw it. Were you under for a long time?” Matt asked.
     “No. One moment the wave was breaking and the very next moment I was treading water with my surfboard right next to me.” I answered with astonishment in my voice.
     “Impossible! That’s impossible!” Matt said shaking his head.
     “I know,” I replied quietly, “I know.”

Written by Michael Ambrosio
Copyright 2002

Michael Ambrosio is the author of the I Don't series of picture books for children ages 4-8. His first book, I don’t want to be lunch! is based on this true life story. Written for a younger audience, it involves an adorable squirrel that faces the danger of a hungry bear, and when he calls out for help, he receives a supernatural rescue. Michael makes author appearances at Sacramento area elementary schools and lives in Folsom, California with his wife and five children. For more info, visit www.lionxpublishing.com