The old washed up man stood on the edge of the cliff, nearly tasting the salt of the ocean crashing below him.
The cliff where he stood was tall and craggy, he breathed in deeply, and assumed an odd stance.
The old man began, and moved his arms gently, took a deep breath and balanced himself.
He lifted his arms, and the waves followed his movement, something I definitely didn't expect.
He looked behind him, as if by some divine sense, and saw me; I could see the fear in his eyes.
Little did I know that what I witnessed, was the beginning of this.
I ran back to the village, and told my parents; cruelty stained their faces, and part of me knew what came next.
Any man or women large enough to carry a weapon was given one, and the sensation of The Hunt had kicked in.
I tried to rectify my mistake, telling them what I saw was a lie, but my efforts were mundane; they were ready to kill.
I heard a loud crack, sounding like the raging of the sea, and feared what came next for my people, or the old man.