Paradise Coast

The Starline Hotel

The marsh breathes. It breathes in the heavy silence, where only the occasional stroke of an alligator tail through the water or the flutter of a bird’s wings in the trees breaks the stillness.

Suddenly, the wind shifts, stirring the leaves and underbrush like whispers from the past. The plants curl tighter, reaching hungrily, as if eager to take back what once belonged to them.

As a scattering of leaves floats through the air, something is unearthed in the tangled mess of overgrowth—a human hand.

Partially hidden beneath the gnarled roots of a fallen tree, fingers splayed as though trying to grasp something just beyond reach.

The skin is pale and bloated, the fingertips blackened by time.

Another gust from the impending storm rushes through the marsh, swirling the thick air.

The wildlife retracts, threatened by the hurricane.

As brush falls to the ground, the hand is no longer visible.

A storm begins, continuing nature’s relentless and beautiful brutality.