from tyler gibb Previous Half a mile from shore, no tissue box, that's for sure, and now my nose was starting to bleed. I was eight feet from an animal that could very well tear me in half and all would take to motivate it to do so would be the smell of blood in the water.   I was frantic and had to suppress my instantaneous physical reactions to avoid detection. I held my cupped hand under my nose as the first drop of blood trickled down. With my other hand I pinched and waited for it to stop.   I dared a glance down. The shark was gone.   There's panic and then there's this situation and the latter was far more taxing on me then I dare say I've ever experienced. With my eyes darting I searched the depths but I couldn't see it anywhere. Wearily I scanned the surface around me for signs of a fin. Nothing.   My hand was filling up with thick, dark red blood. I had no options, I raised my palm to my lips and sipped the blood into my mouth. And when it filled half-way up again I swallowed that too. My nose finally stopped bleeding and I cleaned my fingers by licking the stains from them.   I looked all around before I stuck my hands back into the water to quietly paddle in. The coast seemed to be clear and so I delicately steered my board towards the shore. I would not look over my shoulder and the more shallow the water got the faster I paddled, forgetting that most shark attacks occur in less than four feet of water.   I saw the fin approaching from the corner of my eye. It bobbed up like a periscope at a right angle to my board only fifty yards away. My heart sank desperately and my body froze. I could not see the side of it, only the view from straight on. I could see the pale colour of the animal beneath the surface.   It was approaching fast and then sank under water. Delirium was over taking my brain. Shear uncontrollable hysteria. I started to paddle hard and fast, splashing, paddling, swimming, it didn't matter to me, I knew it had found me and all I could do was rush. Images of shark attacks that I'd read about in surfing magazines streamed through my head. I was going to make it to shore, I knew I could make it to shore but I didn't know how many pieces I'd be in when I got there.   The fin came up again right beside me and I completely lost it. I scrambled and braced myself for impending jaws to lock down on my legs or side or head. There was a sharp blast of water that sprayed up from the beside me as the beast flanked my board. and it knocked me into the ocean.   Submerged in the water I knew I was in real trouble. I was bumped pretty hard by something and then I heard the laughter.   Scrambling to the surface as fast as I did, I nearly shot right out into the sky. I splashed and treaded and flailed my arms. It took my mind some extra time to calm my body once it computed what was going on. The fin appeared again further on, it was distancing itself from me. After it, another fin appeared and then a third; all surfacing and then dipping down again. As my head rose and sunk in the little waves I could hear the laughter and squeaks of the dolphins as they swam away.   Their presence must have irked that monstrous tiger shark while I was stomaching the helping of my own blood.   I wasted no time in getting to shore.   My dreams were pretty frightening for a couple nights after that afternoon and it was a few days before I paddled out again. Whenever a really dark cloud passes over the sun I think about those eight minutes we'd be left with if the sun ever went out. Then I think about the panic. Then I think about dolphins and I wonder about what they would do with those eight minutes.