First published by Paragraph Planet on 15 November 2013

I walk to the boat across a low-tide carpet of mud. It’s nothing much, just a fifteen-foot fibreglass shell. But it belongs to me. I sit in it till the water comes in. The tide lifts us, balances us, centres us. We’re more than a quarter of a mile from land. When what’s there is found I can still hear the screams, but water and distance calm us, keep us from what they mean.

(c) Martin Cornwell 2013