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This Is The Gruesome Story Of What Happened To The Creepy Cult Who Insisted I Was Their ‘Savior’

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I reclined in my chair, enjoying the hot sun on my face. The waves before me crashed with rhythmic purpose and I felt myself growing sleepy. Seagulls cawed overhead. The air smelled of salt and sun tan lotion. Things were good.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes in the afternoon heat, and dug my toes into the sand. I watched as a father helped his little boy build a sand castle. I smiled. What a good dad. I took my sunglasses off my head and slid them onto my face, standing and stretching. I loved the beach. It was impossible to be worried about anything here.

I had come here for the weekend, my little ocean front cottage standing timidly behind me. I had purchased it a year ago, my recent business ventures allowing me some of life’s finer luxuries. If only I had someone to share it with. Perhaps later in the evening I’d chance a trip to the local bars and see if I could round up some company. Not that a minded the isolation. After all, it was hard to feel lonely when surrounded by such beauty.

I rubbed the back of my neck. My fingers came away coated in sweat. It was time for a dip. I tossed my sunglasses onto my beach chair and slowly walked towards the water’s edge. Frothing residue lapped at my feet, followed by the dying reach of a small wave. I sighed. It felt amazing.

Smiling, I charged the rolling mass of sparkling ocean. As the water splashed around my waist, I took a deep breath and dove under. I came up gasping, wiping my eyes, skin glistening in the sunlight. I waved to a group of girls who were body surfing to my left and dove under again. Let them watch.

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