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The Buchanan family had owned a beach house on South Carolina's Pawleys Island for many years. The youngest son, Phil, had fond childhood memories of sunning on the beach, eating mouth-watering seafood and smelling the salty air. He also remembered the charming, tight-knit community of villagers who called Pawleys home. To Phil, it seemed like one of the few places left where people still kept an eye on one another.
Phil had just turned 40 in October when he decided to return to Pawleys for the first time since his childhood. His high stress job as a newspaperman in Atlanta had slowly worn him down, and was beginning to affect both his health and his relationship with his family. He needed a quiet place like Pawleys to energize himself and reflect on his life.
His co-workers were surprised that Phil "Burn-the-Midnight- Oil" Buchanan was finally taking a vacation. What's more, he had chosen the height of hurricane season to do it. But Phil knew that the tourists would be long gone from Pawleys, and he could achieve the solitude that he so desperately craved. After work Thursday, Phil piled his wife, Susan, and two young daughters in the car and headed toward the island.
Phil was pleased to find his family's picturesque beach house practically untouched since his last visit. The heavy timber walls, gabled roof and around-the-house porch distinguished the old home from the newer resort houses that had sprung up on the South Carolina coast like mushrooms.
The same boardwalk extended from the house onto the beach. Phil remembered walking onto the beach every morning to watch the spectacular Pawleys sunrise. Before dawn the next day, Phil grabbed a cup of coffee, put on some warm clothes and a windbreaker and walked down to the beach to relive the magic.
The sunrise that morning was indeed beautiful - a blazing red orb that set the sky ablaze in colors of orange and pink. But Phil didn't seem to notice, for his thoughts now consumed him. He knew that, although Pawleys remained unchanged, he was strikingly different. Years had passed him by in the blink of an eye. Friends, lovers and family had come and gone. Like many people his age, Phil found himself questioning his place in the world. What would people remember about him when he was gone? He knew that his malaise was beginning to affect his family, especially his wife, who said only recently that he had become a virtual stranger to her.
As Phil continued walking, a cold, grayish mist suddenly blew in from the sea, slowly dampening his mood. He wondered if it was such a good idea to come back here after all - this place of youth and invincibility.
Before he knew it, Phil reached the end of the island. But as he turned back toward home, he began to get the strange feeling that he wasn't alone on the beach.
Phil had just turned 40 in October when he decided to return to Pawleys for the first time since his childhood. His high stress job as a newspaperman in Atlanta had slowly worn him down, and was beginning to affect both his health and his relationship with his family. He needed a quiet place like Pawleys to energize himself and reflect on his life.
His co-workers were surprised that Phil "Burn-the-Midnight- Oil" Buchanan was finally taking a vacation. What's more, he had chosen the height of hurricane season to do it. But Phil knew that the tourists would be long gone from Pawleys, and he could achieve the solitude that he so desperately craved. After work Thursday, Phil piled his wife, Susan, and two young daughters in the car and headed toward the island.
Phil was pleased to find his family's picturesque beach house practically untouched since his last visit. The heavy timber walls, gabled roof and around-the-house porch distinguished the old home from the newer resort houses that had sprung up on the South Carolina coast like mushrooms.
The same boardwalk extended from the house onto the beach. Phil remembered walking onto the beach every morning to watch the spectacular Pawleys sunrise. Before dawn the next day, Phil grabbed a cup of coffee, put on some warm clothes and a windbreaker and walked down to the beach to relive the magic.
The sunrise that morning was indeed beautiful - a blazing red orb that set the sky ablaze in colors of orange and pink. But Phil didn't seem to notice, for his thoughts now consumed him. He knew that, although Pawleys remained unchanged, he was strikingly different. Years had passed him by in the blink of an eye. Friends, lovers and family had come and gone. Like many people his age, Phil found himself questioning his place in the world. What would people remember about him when he was gone? He knew that his malaise was beginning to affect his family, especially his wife, who said only recently that he had become a virtual stranger to her.
As Phil continued walking, a cold, grayish mist suddenly blew in from the sea, slowly dampening his mood. He wondered if it was such a good idea to come back here after all - this place of youth and invincibility.
Before he knew it, Phil reached the end of the island. But as he turned back toward home, he began to get the strange feeling that he wasn't alone on the beach.
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*Sniggers*
I only discovered Freeola 3 days ago.
Try looking at the persons' post you quoted - S. Craddock.
Now, consider you are called 'SC 1', emphasis on 'SC', and tell me you don't think it's a bit suspicious that you would do exactly what he did, then agree. You've already come back once and acted like a |>|2|<|<, so doing this makes it appear that you are, indeed, the same person.
Now, consider you are called 'SC 1', emphasis on 'SC', and tell me you don't think it's a bit suspicious that you would do exactly what he did, then agree. You've already come back once and acted like a |>|2|<|<, so doing this makes it appear that you are, indeed, the same person.
Memorandum wrote:
> Bye Craddock. Again.
> Again.
Who's Craddock
> Bye Craddock. Again.
> Again.
Who's Craddock
Bye Craddock. Again.
Again.
Again.
All I did was ask why you quoted that.
If I remember correctly you spammed in the forum too. I think you might just have been a general retard.
Anyway, happy hunting, I look forward to seeing your attempts to 'get me'.
If I remember correctly you spammed in the forum too. I think you might just have been a general retard.
Anyway, happy hunting, I look forward to seeing your attempts to 'get me'.
I'm going to get you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yeah but hes back
I'm S.Craddock, and you the tw*t that got me banned,
Why??
Why??
Who cares about word count anyway?!
Ah well, at least it got that 'tard banned.
Ah well, at least it got that 'tard banned.
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