Wednesday, July 11, 2018–Day 191. "The only sound she could hear was the roar of the waves as they crashed closer and closer to her. The wind was sharp off the water and it pelted her naked flesh with fine sand and a stinging spray of salt water which burned into every whip mark on her exposed body. She was in agony from the pain of the crucifixion–muscles straining, pain burning into the wounds in her wrists and feet. She had tried to scream–in pain–in desperation until she realized she was totally alone and that no one was coming to help her. Then the awful realization that the tide was rising... Already her feet were lapped by the rising waters. Soon her legs would be submerged. Then the cleft of her womanhood and still the water would rise. She could feel tiny sea creatures swimming between her thighs and exploring the delicate folds of flesh and secret caverns that were located there. Still the water rose higher. The whipmarks on her body were now ablaze from the stinging salt water. Still higher... Is this how it would end–would she drown as the water washed over her head for the final time? That, perhaps, would have been a mercy. But her captors were not merciful. They knew exactly how high the waters would rise each cycle of the tides and had carefully nailed her so that if she pulled up on her arms and pushed upwards with her feet, she might be able to stretch her head and neck up and back far enough to allow her to catch on precious breath, before she again sank beneath the water’s cold surface. Gradually the tide would recede leaving more and more exposed–wet, shivering in the cold and damp and more and more exhausted. In her despair, she could only wonder how long this would last...how long would she survive...how long before the tides began to rise again..." From 2014 and entitled "Beach Torment".