Skimming stones takes skill and patience. It requires a strong flick of your wrist. But the pebbles are the key. You have to find those which are smooth and oval shaped, close to mini cigars. Thousands will sink before you manage any sort of success. But now I achieve half a dozen skims every single time. Once you unlock the door, the world is yours.
On only three occasions have I found the bluestones.
They are the colour of starling eggs, and denser than lead. After every discovery I achieved twenty skips in a row.
If three exist, more must exist. I have dropped my daily skimming routine, and focus on my digging project. Holes now dot the beach. No one interrupts. People know me as the skimming man. They keep their distance in such a small town.
This morning I struck gold at last. A whole heap of bluestones in a clump below the shale. In my excitement, I ignored the silver tube surrounding my prize.
This cannot be a snake. A snake would bite or crush. This clings to me below the bones of my right wrist. After ten hours I am so tired.
Silver lines blur the edge of my vision. I have tried to shake the creature off. Shoot it across the water using all my acquired knowledge. But my assailant holds on tight. I guess it has learnt the dangers of skimming stones.