Because I was fourteen, the icy cold Pacific Ocean warmed to bathwater within minutes of immersion. Beyond the official beaches, after scrambling down a wooded ravine now collapsed into itself, lost to time.
She liked fruit, especially peaches, but this one unnerved her, the sinister-looking stem seemed to be searching her out. She stared back at the periscopic pedicle of the soft, rounded fruit expecting a salvo of gunfire, but with a distinct crack, the peach exploded in a messy, fleshy burst of light. Silence.