Andrew Carter

The true story of Andrew Carter, a man who saw his best friend being killed by the same shark that tore his leg to pieces. How he recovered and how he surfed again.


2. The Villa

The constant beeping of my iphone woke me up. I groped around for its slim figure on my bedside table. My hands clasped round and picked it up. I slowly opened my eyes. The screen was reading 'Bruce'. "Hello..." I groaned, as I checked the time, 5.15am.

"Hello Andy, wanna go surfing today?" Asked Bruce.

"Fine, but don't ring this early next time."

"OK, I'll meet you at the beachside cafe at...9.00?"


"See you in a bit."

He rang off. Slowly, I moved my legs out of the bed. I stumbled over to my azure curtains. I pulled them back to get blinded by the glaring sun. I looked down to see the African beach below my villa. I walked over to my pale white door and opened it. I stumbled down the marble stairs. I put the hob on and put some bacon in a pan. I fell into a scarlet bucket chair. I picked up the TV remote and turned it on. The first thing on was the news. Boring. What else is on? I looked at the TV paper. All in African. I switched off the TV and strode over to the hob. Breakfast nearly ready. I sat down and read my e-mails. Nothing but spam. Checked breakfast it was ready. I checked the time. 7.15. I'm gonna be late. I ate my breakfast. 8.00. I had a quick shower and got dressed. I pulled out the bedside drawer and grabbed my car keys. 8.50. I ran downstairs and out the door locking it behind me. Unlocking the car, I jumped in.  

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