Seashell Creative Writing

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I had decided to be open minded about this adventure I was being taken on as my weariness depreciated and my mother seemed to grow upset since I had looked like I was not enjoying her company. As we approached the seashore, to my surprise my mood had been uplifted. Smiling was inevitable and my heart was warm with bliss as we slowly walked over the tiny grains of sand, occasionally stopping to examine a unique shell that demanded to be seen. Each shell had different textures, varying from a roughness comparable to sandpaper or smooth like fuzzy peaches and with different shades of grey and white. Only the extraordinary shells would be picked up and placed into the bright red cup we brought. Although my eyes had adjusted to the lack of light,

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