After all the celebration has quieted down along with the throng of people departed now, I’m left myself in the cabin. Later on at some point with no one in sight, curiously, I make my way out of the cabin heading up the gangway to the boardwalk.I notice it’s not as bright as it had been earlier but it’s still daylight. I begin my walk along the boardwalk with out any incident. Later in my walk, coming out of nowhere I glance down the boardwalk and see a tall male person heading towards me. He’s shouting from aways off, in a brutish manner,” What are you doing here at this time of day?” Hmm, I’m not thinking about time, so I don’t answer him. He’s now clearly agitated by my lack of response, enough to approach closer, when I notice he picks up a tubular pool stick along the way. One that’s long and adjusts in length and is hollow inside. I happen to look over and find one nearby that I pick up also, just in case. He now has come up to where I had stopped walking along the boardwalk and I can tell he is acting belligerent in the way he is handling that pool stick. Both hands gripped on, swinging the pool stick from upper body to his lower body and left to right. I’m in for a brawl alright, with a pool stick fighter. In short order, our pool sticks clash with his giving the first blow. To say I’m surprised by his aggression is to underscore the concern I have in trying to figure out why is he acting this way in the first place! Then as we tangle in our dueling, he strikes at me just as I twist to one side to avoid his blow, but instead with the open end of the pool stick he lances me, leaving a gaping hole in the small of my back. In a pleading voice laced with pain, I cry out ,” Why did you do that”? Hoping to hear something , anything, as I fall off the boardwalk and land onto the beach sand below ,wounded and frozen in place by all the pain. Now, I lie there interminably. Finally , how long is anyone’s guess, when a member of the harbor patrol finds me alive, lying in the spot where I fell. He lifts me and carries me to the harbor wound triage unit where a non descript woman and man dress my wound. In my daze, I still manage to over hear their whisper as they begin dressing it. ” This is got to be the work of the same predator”, one of them says. “He’s known to strike other people in the same area, ” the other nods in agreement as they continue to work on me. “This is certainly his handiwork alright, I’m sure of it!, he carries on. “Look, it’s his footprint all over this person in just the same way he had hurt the other people in the past, ” I can make out the woman now speaking. They finish up their medical work over me and I hear the male say now,” We’ve got to make a police report and finally turn this predator in.” What strikes me is they seem to know him by name. I wish I could hear it as I listen intently, but I can’t make it out. I Just know I’m hurt now.(1)