Visions on the Beach

I walk along the beach, awestruck by its beauty. It's the first time I've been back here since my terrifying experience. My life has been a collection of horrific events for the past year. I'm impressed that I've survived it all somehow.

On this particular summer evening, there is nothing frightening about the beach at all. It is a sharp contrast to the last time I was here.

I feel like I've been transported to a magical realm. The sky is a beautiful mixture of purple and pink. This color is reflected in the water by the setting sun. The sun appears as a giant, red disk, dipping lower and lower, slowly falling towards the horizon. Birds fly overhead, off to some unknown destination. The humid breeze feels like a warm breath against my face. The waves are calm and gentle, their sound as soothing as a lullaby.

The majestic beauty of this place tonight gives me the strength to finally let go. It's time to release my grip on grief, depression, and sorrow. They have ruled my life for long enough.

I look up at the sky, hoping that she can hear me somehow, “I'll see you again soon enough, Mom. For now it's time for me to start living again. I'll never stop loving you. Keep watching over me.”

With tears stinging my eyes, I etch into the sand, “Love You, Mom. RIP.” I gently lay a white rose in the sand next to it, wipe my eyes, and slowly walk away.

It's ironic that a close call with a murderer is what shook me out of harboring a death wish. That's what it took for me to realize how much I still wanted to be alive, even with the cloud of grief still hovering over me.

Three months ago, I had stood helplessly next to Mom as she took her final breaths. After her body was taken away and everyone was gone, I didn't know what I was supposed to do. Still in a state of shock, I drove the short distance to the beach. I walked up and down the entire length of it, finding solace there. Somehow, I felt connected to something larger than my grief.

Maybe it was the way that the water stretched out for as far as I could see, making me feel so small in the scope of everything. Maybe it was the rough, roaring waves, matching how I felt inside. The birds flying above reminded me that, though my world had ended, life still went on. Even though I had just lost the person who I loved more than anyone, nature went on as usual. That thought made me feel sad and comforted at the same time. It was my first of many lessons in experiencing completely conflicting emotions at the same time.

The beach became my refuge. I suffered a very restless depression. With no ability to be still or focus on anything, walking up and down that shore was an outlet for my distressed energy. I always brought my camera with me, taking photos as I walked along.

I was so lost in my grief. I felt like my purpose for living died along with Mom. I was alone in the world, and the only person who had really needed me was gone. I wasn't suicidal, but I secretly hoped that my life would end soon. That is, until it almost did.

I had never felt unsafe walking alone on the beach. Being an introvert, I counted myself lucky on the days when there was no one else in sight. It never occurred to me that being alone made me a potential target for crime. I never imagined what horror would unfold in the place that I had run to for refuge.

One day, as I strolled along the beach, I saw a message in the sand. It wasn't rare to find words etched into the sand. This message was strange, though. It simply said, “STOP!”

I took a photo, because it was so odd. Maybe it was someone's cry for help. Suddenly, I felt light-headed. Looking at the word again, the letters dripped with blood now. I walked towards the mysterious message, thinking that it must be a mirage.

As I came closer, my mind evaporated into a vision. I'd never had one before. It felt like being trapped in a dream, except that I was wide awake.

In the vision, I hastily yanked the necklace from around my neck, throwing it into the bushes nearby. A man's arms tightened around my neck, as he dragged me away. The crazed look in his eyes was the last thing that I saw before everything went black.

Next, I saw myself in a cold, dark location, like a basement. I hoped that someone would find the necklace I had left behind as a clue.

I heard multiple news reporters all saying the same things. A woman had gone missing. Her last known whereabouts was the city beach. A necklace that may have belonged to her was found in the bushes along the birding trail. I also saw newspaper headlines about the missing woman. It was me.

When the vision ended, I blew off the experience as a weird daydream. Depression caused my mind to venture into strange places. Nothing like that would ever happen in the small town where I live, I told myself. Especially not on a public beach in broad daylight. But still, I began to wonder what I should do if I ever found myself in that situation. After all, it wasn't completely impossible.

I arrived home, eager to email the odd photo to my friend, Stephanie. I plugged my camera's SD card into my laptop, searching for the photo. I was shocked to see plain sand with no word etched into it. I was afraid that I was losing my mind, so I never told anyone about the vision or the strange occurrence.

I went back to the beach the next day, aiming to prove that there was nothing out of the ordinary there. I was probably just dehydrated, I told myself. I felt like I cried my own body weight in tears every day, so it seemed like a plausible explanation.

I was relieved when everything seemed normal. That relief vanished when I reached the same location where I had seen the word “STOP!” yesterday. My heart stopped when I read “RIP Becca,” etched into the sand. Seeing my own name there was shocking and disturbing.

I calmed down when I realized that I'm not the only person in the world named Becca. I laughed at my initial panic, relieved. I took a photo of this beach memorial to someone who shared my name.

Suddenly, the words shimmered as though they had turned into glitter. Each letter rose to the sky, evaporating into the clouds.

My mind was flooded with newscasts and newspaper headlines, all reporting the same story. “Missing Woman Found Dead. Murderer Still on the Loose.”

I saw myself lying in a white casket, wearing a white dress. Friends and family gathered around it, crying.

Next I saw the same group of people gathered at the beach, talking about how it had been my favorite place in the world. Stephanie said it was such a shame that tragedy had met me there. I was moved to tears as I watched them release balloons up to the sky, hoping that I could see them. It was difficult for me to believe that I mattered so much to them. It seemed that I was more loved than my depression would let me believe.

I plugged the SD card into my laptop when I got home. “RIP Becca” was nowhere to be seen in the photo I had taken. Again, it showed nothing but plain sand.

Several days passed with no more strange experiences at the beach. My heart pounded every time I came near those bushes along the birding trail.

I found myself rehearsing what I would do if a creepy stranger actually walked up to me. I quickly drew my phone from my pocket, my finger hovering over the panic button app I had installed. My other hand simultaneously reached for the pepper spray that I now carried with me, ready to aim and shoot. I felt compelled to practice this every day, though it seemed like I was just paranoid.

Two weeks after I had the first vision, I casually walked along the beach, lost in my thoughts. As usual, my camera hung around my neck. I had put the strange experiences behind me, though I still practiced the same ritual every time I reached that particular spot on the beach.

On that Monday afternoon, in that exact location, a man walked towards me quickly. I recognized the crazed look in his eyes. I had seen it in the vision.

“It's really happening,” I thought, in panic. I frantically looked around, but there was no one else in sight. There was nobody to rescue me.

It's difficult to describe how I felt. My life had never been in such imminent danger before. My heart thudded so hard that my whole chest vibrated with it. My body instantly turned cold, like my blood had become ice. All I wished for was that I would survive somehow. I realized that I didn't want to die after all. I was frozen and speechless.

He leaned in close to me, with a menacing grin on his face, whispering in my ear, “Take my picture. It's going to be the last one you ever take.”

My hands trembled as I snapped a photo of him. Though my mind was frozen in fear, my body automatically performed the ritual that I had rehearsed over the past two weeks. My left hand quickly drew my phone from my pocket, hitting the panic button, while my right hand pulled out the pepper spray, aiming, ready to spray.

He watched me do all of this, seeming to be confused and thrown off by it. It gave me the head start that I needed to run to my car. I saw him following me, glaring at me. The look in his eyes seemed to say, “I'll get you.”

I raced to the police station and told them what happened, leaving out the part about the visions that I'd had. I showed them the photo of the man. They discovered that he had escaped from a prison in Michigan, where he was serving a life sentence for murdering five women. He had walked all the way to Ohio. Because of my photo, taken with my trembling hands, the police were able to find him. They had him transported back to prison.

The whole experience shook my life to the core, but it also broke the spell that depression had me under. Ironically, in trying to kill me, this man made me realize how much I still wanted to be alive. I realized how fleeting life is and how everything can change in just one moment. Life is never guaranteed, even for one more day.

I stopped wishing that my life would end. I realized that Mom would want me to love the life that she sacrificed everything to help me build. She wouldn't want me to waste it, mired in the grief of losing her. She wouldn't want me to just bide my time, waiting to die. She would want me to seize every day and live my life to the fullest, so now that's what I do.

The cloud of grief never went away, but I learned that grief and happiness can co-exist. I feel Mom smiling down on me, glad for every piece of joy that I'm able to find in this life.

I could never prove it, but I like to think that she sent me the visions. They were the warnings that saved my life. Most people can't say that they narrowly escaped from a murderer. Thanks to whoever, or whatever, was looking out for me that summer, I can. Maybe I didn't lose Mom after all. Maybe I just gained an amazing guardian angel.