I yawned and woke up numb against a gray, mossy rock on a strange, unfamiliar beach. I wondered how long I had slept; my mind was fuzzy, the last remnants of a dream chased away by the realization that I was awake again. It was a nice dream - that was a change from my usual nightmares about my parents - and it was something about sitting in a big, leafy oak tree in a meadow full of yellow flowers with butterflies and birds. The details were fading fast even as I tried to recall them. With an internal sigh, I allowed my brain to focus, and listened to my surroundings. My brain was awake now and I was already worrying. The fiery sun was hot as it rose as if it were a big, yellow balloon in the distance. The soft, white sand glistened as it reflected the sun's rays. Brilliant orange poured out of it and across the horizon, and with the sky being blood red, dawn broke. The sun spilled across the clouds as far as the eye could see. Red sky in the morning - sailors' warning. I looked out at the deep, blue sea; it sparkled as it casually strolled along the shore, leaving the rocks and seashells glinting. The crystal-clear water stretched far into the distance, getting darker and deeper however maintaining serenity effortlessly. The waves were wild horses, …show more content…
He was outstandingly masculine with high cheekbones, and had something in his hand - a glinting sword that reflected the sun's beams. He couldn't have been coming to kill me, as I was already dead, wasn't I? What was his reason for killing me? His blond hair was blowing in the wind, his emerald green eyes looking in my direction. 'Should I get up and run or not?' I decided not to, as I figured I was dead already. I was dead all along, and if I wasn't I wished I was. Being killed by him would make things worthwhile - I would die to seeing the gorgeous, glinting green orbs that stared at me. His black wetsuit clung to him, revealing his perfect body and his washboard muscles. All I could say is,
With every step I took I could smell the fresh air with a slight odor of the salty water. I close my eyes to absorb the gust of the early morning wind slapping me across the face. My hair stood up, dancing from side to side as if it was doing the Tango. I felt the crisp white grainy sand going beneath the spaces of my toes almost feeling exactly like sugar. The subtle waves played the music of nature while crashing onto the shore, hitting my ankles every time with tides that varied in size.
The naked street light outside stood in the bleak weather, shivering in the frosty cold and looking like it desperately needed a sweater to keep warm. I turned on the TV and went to take a shower. The water is rich in minerals and condensed every part of my body on contact. The water slides across my witch-shaped eyebrows making its way to my blonde hair. I took a peep through my window and soon realized I wasn't the only one woken up. There were birds singing, the winds howling, the ocean tides roaring and trees lurking in the shadows. I flicked through the pages of the newspaper and saw the murder of President Harold. My mind was reeling about the President’s disappearance. In a minute, the phone screamed in a high-pitched voice. I took the phone and said, "Hello, Sandy Beaches speaking".
So, the state of the night cleared up, I can continue. I'm looking into the sky and I'm lying on the grass, which is a little strange because grass is not, as it were, the most abundant of materials in this place. I'm lying on a small patch of such grass that is surrounded on all sides by sand. In the distance I can hear the sea and its crashing against the beach and I worry about all the poor little creatures caught in it.
The salty, humid air fills my nose as I stare out into the distance. I listen to the seagulls above me and the large, dark blue waves crashing on the seashore in front of me. My eyes slowly close behind my cheap shades while the calm wind gently blows away the excess heat from my body. I sit comfortably, while I rummage through thoughts that randomly come about. As time goes by, I feel unsettled
he sea was pale and still on that overcast morning. Not a single trace of sunlight penetrated through the thin dense white clouds, as a thick fog slowly rolled in over the still, silent once bright turquiouse waters. It was silent and flat as glass; gleaming with an almost faint silvery light. The wind was quiet as well. Even the gulls and birds whom flew around early in the morning searching for food were quiet as well.
This morning I wake early from the light that creeps underneath my blinds and my bed next to the window. I wake floating on the streams of light, heated, like white wax spilled across the floor, dripping, soft. In bare feet I walk down the stairs, cold on the wood, and find my father in the kitchen, also awake early. Together, we leave the house, the house that my parents built with windows like walls, windows that show the water on either side of the island. We close the door quietly so as not to wake the sleepers. We walk down the pine-needle path, through the arch of trees, the steep wooden steps to the dock nestled in the sea-weed covered rocks. We sit silently on the bench, watch as the fog evaporates from the clear water. The trees and water are a painting in muted colors, silver and grays and greenish blue, hazy white above the trees.
The air around him was sweet with the smell of the pines and the flowers growing around the shore. The sun shown low in the west, and he was thinking to put in to shore, but this was a peaceful lake and there were no others around to disturb him, so he was in little hurry to leave. He just shipped ores and let the boat drift on the glassy water. As the sun went down the sky turned to lavender and peach, and the water mirrored it in perfect reflection.
We traveled a shadowed path; the caravan crawled between folded mountains bridged by a natural limestone overpass. The tapping of gravel ricocheted off the cliff's face, chips of rock and grit broke from its crumbling ceiling—the sun flared beyond the grotto. Lush lowlands rolled a stormy ocean. Mounds of tumbling soil dotted in sparse trees filled the gaps where tides would swell as domed mountains that peaked to clouded heights. The crumpled plains surged with countless veins, water reflecting skies of a perfect blue and quenching the thirst of flowered meadows.
It was the summer of 2015 in July. My family had decided to travel to the golden state of California. We were there for one week and on the second to last day before we had to fly back to the dull, but familiar Spokane Washington, we decided to visit the famous Huntington beach of Orange Country. I had heard of this beach but I had never previously been.
The motion of the soft, almost fully deflated rubber boat on the edge of the the sand filled beach. [GR - doesn’t quite make sense. It needs an edit. Add words] The sound of the birds chirping and the waves hammering against the rocks woke me from a deep mesmerising sleep.
The cold water seeps through the tough outside of my dive booties and surrounds my feet. Looking around, I crunch up the beach, the kayak handle pressed into my palm and curled fingers. Kayak scraping, I pull it up the beach onto the wet, rocky, sandy, shelly, earth. Stepping from the newly beached kayak, I turn my gaze slowly drifting to my brother, who I see is doing the same as I had. Pulling his kayak from the water.
The dull light of the sun somehow manages to kindle my senses in a way I had never seen or felt before. Everything felt like it came to a standstill and the effect of the light made the scene look like one in a painting. The waves break gently into white foam on the black beach. The small crystals in the sand glimmer and twinkle brilliantly against the sunrays. The seagulls ride with the wind and the soft sand cushions my toes.
I turned off the car and took a deep breath. Looking slowly up into the pink sky, I began to watch the golden sun go to sleep. The beach seemed deserted, quiet, but peaceful. I opened my door and put my feet out on the soft sand. I started taking my shoes off, then my socks. I threw them in the passenger seat, and then shut the door. I looked out over horizon of the lake and started walking towards the still water. With each step I took, I could feel the warm sand crunch between my toes. Then suddenly, a sharp rock, but not sharp enough to break the skin.
Too late! He had heard me. Why had I been so stupid as to scream? I had lost valuable seconds and drawn negative forces to me.
As I walked down the worn dirt path to the ocean, I was astonished by how many people were lounging by the water.. As I got closer to the water’s edge, I contemplated why more people don 't swim and decide to tan in the sun instead. The feeling of being alone with the ocean and my thoughts played in my mind.