Brianna waded out to the sandbar—a familiar ridge where the water only came to her waist. She turned to wave at her mom. That's when she felt it: the sudden, sickening suck of water around her shins. A rip current. It didn roar; it whispered. And then it yanked.
They started wading toward the shore, but the sand under Brianna’s foot suddenly dropped away. A gasp, a stumble, and then the current grabbed her like a fist around the ribs. She was yanked sideways, then under. Salt burned her nose. The sky became a spinning coin above her.
However, I can write an original short story inspired by the emotional core I sense in those words: