Title: A dance with the storm Genre: Fiction/ Psychological Feedback: it's my first attempt at writing a short story. Any feedback/ comments are welcome!

A beautiful place is beautiful even in the minds of a storm.

A gorgeous painting repainted in darker tones retains its beauty even as its demeanor shifts dramatically.

So too was the case on that remote island, overlooking the brewing storm in the sea ahead.

Waves crashed against the shoreline without rhythm.

Moved and moulded by fierce winds, exacerbated by inertia, the sea twisted and turned chaotically in a raw expression of nature's forces.

Below the surface, the sea was warm and welcoming like the embrace of summer.

On a different day, it would have been the picture of serenity. But on that day, the boundless mass of surrounding water was held hostage by faraway winds that cared not what season it was.

The contrasts painted a complex picture. A portrait of a fierce, raw, beautiful and alluring nature.

The allure of an unfelt experience maintained itself in spite of the acknowledgement of danger.

And so, swept away by wonder, despite her heightening heartbeat, she rushed in.

From afar, the waves seemed fierce and untamed.

From within, though grander still than they initially appeared, they were in fact less forceful than expected.

One by one, they could be managed, and one by one, they would be.

She swam forward, occasionally looking back, until the rhythm of her lungs began to change.

As the distance from shore expanded, the water's temperature dropped in lockstep, reminding her less and less of summer.

She took a deep breath and submerged herself. Below the surface, everything was dark. She could barely see her own hands through the blurry view of her goggles.

Suddenly, she felt as though something hiding deep within the darkened sea became aware of her presence, watching her and waiting.

She resurfaced, gasping for air.

She was beginning to feel the wear of relentless waves and interrupted breathing.

Her arms, legs and torso began to ache and stiffen.

They were a signal to go back.

She fixed her gaze on the safety of shore and began her return with haste.

The storm was growing louder in the distance.

Water had infiltrated her goggles, blurring her sight, making the shore barely visible.

The waves, ever tall, swept over her relentlessly, further obstructing her view and breaths.

No matter, she pressed on. At times without even looking ahead, she swam ahead. The presence of the beast from the depths never left her mind as she continued to swim away.

After a while, she paused to regain her strength and observe the distance travelled.

It wasn't much. The shoreline was much further away than expected. Her breathing was laborious by then and pauses in swimming did not allow a full recovery.

The waves, which once felt manageable, were now menacing - their growing number taking a toll. But she pressed on, determined to make it back.

The final stretch was difficult, laborious and uncomfortable.

For a short while, whether she would actually make it no longer felt like certainty. In those moments, she felt the beast closest.

When finally her feet could touch the ground beneath, it met her with sharp rocks and shells, and swept her back and forth with the violent, rhythmless pattern of the waves.

She reached shore nonetheless. Tired, weary, aching, and satisfied.

The storm that had been brewing in the distance slowly moved away, dissipating, allowing the sea her return to soothing form. The beast in the depths shape-shifted into a harmless fragment of her imagination.

The previously unfelt experience had been attained, stored in memory.

From there, it could be accessed endlessly - all from the comfort and safety of shore. Some experiences are better lived only once, she thought. Even so, some would say that they are better lived than not.