Ten times we went to the beach, water of crystal clear orange lapping around our ankles as we played in the surf.
Nine times we were merry. Sea birds sang songs of beauty, their voices like bells, as we tried to out do them with our laughter.
Eight times the sun shone brightly in all of its glorious red.
But the seventh time saw the introduction of The Web, a device designed to keep us safe from the strange readings coming from the ocean floor.
Six times we wondered if it was truly useful. Was it really protecting us? In the end we decided that we didn't much care. This beach was for our enjoyment.
Five times we ignored the threat beyond The Web.
Four times an echoing chorus of screeching drowned out all other sounds. We should not have gone at night.
Though the third time we had been warned to stay away we refused. The arrogance of youth shone brightly within us.
Two times we managed to break through the defences of those that would stop us from reaching the water.
And finally, on that last day at the beach, we were greeted from the far side of The Web by the cause of the readings, all three million of them.
