Noah JohnsonCreative Writing- News to NarrativeSource: http://huff.to/1e6RlY25/17/2015

Every morning, Ron Smith went for a walk on the beach by his home. His morning strolls were normally uneventful and relaxing; they helped him center himself for the day. One morning, which seemed no different from the usual, Ron was partaking in his dawn promenade when he noticed something resting on the ground up ahead. From a distance, the object appeared large and rectangular. Ron continued toward the strange form, and as he drew nearer, he saw the morning sun reflect off of what appeared to be plastic wrap. He wondered what could be hidden away inside, and if it was preserved by the wrapping. Now standing over the package, Ron observed what appeared to be some kind of plant matter. He tore into the plastic rather nervously; as soon as it was punctured, a skunky sort of smell wafted towards his nostrils. Ron knew that smell anywhere, he went to college after all. Ron carefully reached into the bag and pulled out a piece of the plant. Then Ron knew for sure, it was a massive bag of marijuana. Ron speculated it was at least fifteen pounds! No sooner had Ron come to his startling conclusion than he heard an engine of some sort approaching from the gulf. He whipped his head toward the source of the noise and saw a jet-ski approaching at a high velocity. The craft was helmed by a mountain of a man completely garbed in black. At first, it was difficult to determine whether or not the figure was bound for him, but the closer it drew, the more obvious its final destination was. Ron's mind was running at a mile a minute; he knew he should run, but he seemed rooted in the spot. Transfixed by the approaching stranger, Ron failed to notice the man approaching from the shoreside. Utilizing the element of surprise, the second man easily overpowered Ron and tackled him to the ground. Just before Ron's face was thrust into the sand, he witnessed the jet-ski man strapping the package to the back of his vehicle. Still face down in the sand, Ron heard the sound of a loud vehicle approaching from up the beach. The vehicle slid to an abrupt stop no more than ten feet from where Ron was being held; by the sound of it, it was a large SUV or a truck of some sort. A door slammed, and a man speaking rapid-fire Spanish approached Ron's captor. He struggled, attempting to free himself enough to get a good luck at either of the men. Squirming on the ground, Ron felt a sharp prick on his left neck. Suddenly, Ron felt as if he was falling through the ground; after giving one last-ditch attempt at breaking free, he fell into blackness.Ron awoke feeling colder than he had ever felt before. Opening his eyes, Ron panicked for a moment, as he was unable to see anything, but he soon realized that there was a bag or sack on his head. He reached to remove it just to realize that his hands were tied. Standing up with much difficulty, Ron realized that he had no shoes or socks on. In fact, as he felt a breeze, Ron realized he no clothes on at all. Awkwardly shaking the bag off his head, Ron looked around. He was in the doorway of a warehouse of some sort; he didn't recognize the area at all, and it was the middle of the night. "Shit!" Ron said to himself.