The Time I Stood on a Drug Syringe in Mallorca

The night was forced open by tall orange and yellow flames, lapping at the warm night air. The beach was quiet, hidden by the darkness.

The full moon reflected boldly onto the sea, a shimmering reflection lighting up the tall silhouettes of overhanging cliffs with caves carved into their sides.

Waves swallowed up the beach, pushed by a gentle, slow moving breeze.

Human figures danced, weaving in between the candles, circling them in a large circle in the sand. In the centre was a small fire.

It was our first night in Mallorca.

Two months had passed since we had rescued a sickly kitten in Barbados. Now it was mid-July and summer was well and truly underway.

We had just finished eating at a favourite restaurant of mine and decided to take a walk on the nearby beach which was hugged by huge cliff faces.

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2 thoughts on “The Time I Stood on a Drug Syringe in Mallorca”

  1. Horror story, but the way you tell it is compelling. Glad you lived to fight another day.

    1. Thanks so much for taking the time to read! Yeah it wasn’t my finest hour. What were the chances of something like this happening?! But it does make an interesting story, hehe.

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