The palm trees lining the wooden promenade swayed gently in the hot ocean breeze. The sky above the village was its usual cloudless blue. From my seat outside the café I watched as a small crowd gathered down by the shoreline. Even from this distance I could soon see what they had also surely seen – the waters of the bay slowly receding into the shimmering horizon. I quickly finished my coffee and walked across the street to the beach. A single, white-topped ripple now rolled its way back towards land. Then the horizon went dark. Then we all ran.
These words form my entry into Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challen