Shaft - Original Writing

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Shaft - Original Writing

I walked up the sandy footpath through the dunes, scuffing the dry

ground with my toes. The sun blazed down making the bronzed ground

shimmer like a pool of gold. The salty tang from the sea lingered on

my tongue. The dry grasses and scrub growing in clumps alongside the

path rustled softly in a gentle breeze, whispering in secret tongue,

and a small clod of sand skittered forward, tickling my bare ankles.

A few yards up, the sloping path levelled and then dropped, a steep

bank of golden grains, and suddenly, like a magician waving his wand,

the glittering expanse of the sea was spread out in front of me, an

azure shimmering sheet. The wind whipped my loose hair around my face

and my long light skirt billowed out. Yachts danced on the blue

horizon, their bright sails like beacons on the waves. Below me, on

the beach, deckchairs and umbrellas stood out boldly from the endless

stretch of gold, and little matchstick people ran laughing and

screaming through the sand with buckets and spades and inflatable

dinghies. Others were stretched out on towels, hats balanced over

their eyes, and suntan lotion to hand. Children splashed happily in

the shallows, tossing handfuls of sun-warmed water over each other,

and diving under the surface to search for treasure. Most people were

simply sitting in their deckchairs, staring peacefully out at the

limpid waters, still marvelling at its beauty. Something I marvelled

at every second of my life.

I smiled and took a deep breath, inhaling the salty air. I closed my

eyes, and just for a moment I was one with the sea, sailing through

the air on the white-tipped waves, and c...

... middle of paper ...

...trickling out of the hem of the skirt and the creases of my top.

I looked out at the sea, breathing deeply. The waves crashed again

onto the beach, where little matchstick people ran about, laughing and

screaming. There were still children splashing in the sea, and there

were still people sunbathing on their brightly-coloured towels with

their brightly-coloured umbrellas shielding them from the sun. I

looked at the deckchairs.

They weren’t facing the sea. They were turned away, turned towards me,

turned towards the dunes. That wasn’t right, surely.

I tilted my head slightly, trying to remember something. Something…

something… it was almost there. A pleasant memory… no. It was gone.

Shrugging, I walked down the rest of the dune, onto flat, warm beach,

settled myself in an empty deckchair and gazed out at the land.

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