It’s nearing the end of the day, and you’re fighting to stay awake. Most of your friends are gone, headed for another round of water slides while you watch their children (or some other parent) idly wade in the shallow pools of the kiddie pool or play with foam noodles on the grassy hills surrounding.
There are lodgings suitable for every need; throughout the many campsites spread all around the holiday village, comfortable bungalows are fully equipped with beds, bathrooms, and kitchenettes. Camping in Emu Park has an electricity supply. There is also the possibility to rent furnished mobile homes.
The activities offered at Beach Park’s entertainment program are suitable for young and old, single or in families; sports activities include mountain biking, canoeing, kayaking, climbing, basketball, volleyball, and football pitches. The numerous playgrounds will entertain children with their rides and games. Restaurants are offering local specialties as well as themed evenings with shows of magic tricks.
There is Internet Point where you can surf the web freely just outside the campsites. Moreover, during summer there are several disco nights for young people to dance until late hours under an enormous starry sky.
You gaze out at the lake again, watching what fish may be swimming by near the surface. You can see some boats out on far waters, but it doesn’t look like anyone is fishing today; they all appear to be just admiring the beauty this place offers. A wave crashes closer than usual—you’ve never seen one come so close before, but you know you didn’t bring your wallet, so why worry? As the wave crashes, it pushes something closer to shore. You can see that it’s a man, his clothes tattered and torn. He pulls himself ashore with one arm, dragging his body across the rocks.
You can see now that he’s completely soaked in water but appears to be just fine. He looks back at where he came from before standing up quickly to look around for anyone else out here tonight. There are none; everyone is gone except for you two.
You watch as he walks toward you, looking over each shoulder every couple steps to make sure no one is following him—though you’re pretty sure he came alone. He wears a tattered, torn white button-up shirt with pale blue pants that are utterly ruined at this point. You can’t make out the details on his face as it’s still soaked in water, and you’re too far away to see anything more than what appears to be dark hair. He’s moved up the hill now, past where anyone would even normally walk; he looks around one last time before talking or making any other noise—he doesn’t want anyone else here for this conversation.
