I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Combine advisor pods burned by the dozen on the steps of The Citadel. I watched Xenian super portals glitter in the sun on the shores of Shackley beach. All those...moments...will be lost...like tears...in rain.
Griggs' van tore along the cliff road, shaking dangerously whenever it cornered. We didn't care, I was a good driver. It was a pleasant environment: three friends in a van, driving along a road in the middle of no where, loudly singing along to the Bon Jovi we had blaring through the expensive stereo.
"I played my part and you played your game, darling you give love... a bad name!" we all roared in unison.
We turned a corner, and my house came into view, perched on a rock by the sea, far below.
"OK guy and gal, here we are. You like? Yeah, it's kind of...shack-like, but it's good." I said jovially, turning down the music.
"OK, I'm going to be blunt." replied Griggs, craning his head to see it. He was shorter than me. "It's a shack. You should call it 'Shackley'"
The house WAS quite run down. It was old, wooden and perched on a rock at the end of the beach. When the tide was in it completely surrounded the rock, and the only way to get to it was via a small wooden bridge on the lower level of the rock which also housed a garage. The bridge led to a short dirt road which led to the highway high above. When the tide was out, it still surrounded the rock, but it was shallow enough in most parts to walk through, and there was a thin line of sand that could be walked across without getting wet feet, assuming you walked across the bridge first. The house itself had a nice feel to it and once you got inside, it was sunny and warm with an incredible view.
"Don't you get the tide running up and flooding the house?" asked Zoey.
"Nah. It's happened once or twice, but that was like in a typhoon. The tide seldom comes up this far and when it does it doesn't usually get above that mark on the rock." I gestured to a green algae line on the rock.
"What if it does? This house doesn't look like it could sustain it."
"Trust me." I replied, "This house is firmer than you would think. Like I said, it has stood up to typhoons. The worst we ever had was the roof being partially ripped off during one."
Let me explain. Francis Griggs, Zoey Rosenberg and I, William Sheckley, had just arrived at my family's beach house. It had been my suggestion that we come up for a week on our own. We had driven up, Griggs and I at seventeen were legally allowed to drive with passengers, and Zoey who was almost seventeen wasn't, but did anyway. I had driven, but we had taken Griggs' van, as he was the only one who owned a vehicle. The plan was that we would stay there on our own for two or so weeks. We had gotten most of the supplies on the way there, and there were one or two tiny villages with a general store relatively near the house, so we could get anything else from them. Along the coast there were also a few freight companies. There was one house, maybe half a mile away but the owners never stayed there. It was bigger than my family's house. We were miles from any actual town, cut off from society. Just the way I liked it.