beach description creative writing

Write that Scene

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How to Write a Beach Scene

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At first, focus on the overall atmosphere.

» A. To start your story, describe the weather, the crowd and their activities.

I. Begin with the weather but ease your way into describing what the five senses are experiencing. Describe the feel of the sand between the character’s toes, the brightness of the sun in their eyes, the sounds of the waves, the sounds of children playing in the sand, the taste of the ocean water. Here are some words you can use:

C. Smell: Seaweed/saltwater Feel: Humid sea air Gritty sand Cool water

II. Use metaphors, similes and color to breathe life into your scene. The ocean is an aqua blue, the sand is pale yellow, and the sun is a fierce, hot yellow. The sky is a gorgeous light blue with big, fluffy white clouds. Here are some phrases you can use:

C. Long golden sands with the waves lapping on the shore.

D. First thing that hit him/her was the salty air.

Listening with both an open heart and ear, Jonah heard the waves crashing against a nearby rock. This rock had been the go-to place for him as a kid. He used to jump off of it and into the water, or sit on it and read his favorite book.

But it didn’t end there. The one thing that made Jonah always returned to the beach wasn’t only because of those reasons. It also had to do with the feel— the emotion he got whenever he looked out far into the ocean. He would forget all forms of agony, pain, regret and frustration. A strong since of peace and calm resided over him always. Only the beach made him feel such things.

With the infinite blue sky above promising sunshine, and the big, fluffy white clouds adding a touch of ecstasy.

Something interesting should happen, no doubt.

» A. A bit of mystery and action is always a good thing.

I. Maybe the character moved to another part of the beach and it’s a lot louder or quieter? Or maybe there’s music, dance and a party.

Example 2:

Then it happened. Just like that! No thinking, no pauses: Jonah jumped into the water, screaming. Carolyn looked his way immediately. Running quickly to save him, she blew her whistle for back up and used her binocular to find the fallen body. Jonah saw her every move through his squinted eyes, however he knew in order to make it look realistic, he had to go under water. So he did and in the water below, he pictured Carolyn rescuing him and kissing him…. uh, I mean… doing CPR.

» B. How does the environment affect your character and what’s happening to them? Use the background to emphasize the character’s emotions rather than describing them.

I. Be sure to give vivid imagery. Allow your reader to continue to see what is going on, in order for the scene to have a realistic feel. What I mean by that is, while you’re talking about the drama, mystery or action events that unfold, every so often add in the “normal stuff” that happens around the character. These can easily become a symbolic meaning. Here are a few “normal, symbolic meaning stuff” to give you an idea:

C. Playful seal take a ride in a wave = happiness, childlike mindset, freedom, endless joy

D. A whale surfacing to get a breath can be seen. = revelation, secrets unfold, epic adventure lying ahead

E. Fishermen’s lines hanging off the pier into the water in hopes of catching dinner. = a new start, overwhelming beginnings, hope for the future, determination to improve one’s circumstances

F. The sunlight starting to fade = dreams are lost, stuck in darkness, forbidden love

G. Surfers exit the sea, and build bonfires in the pits and you smell marshmallows burning in the fire. = treasuring the here and now, aspiration ideals about life and upcoming events, finding happiness in the simplest of things

In other words, relate it back to what is going in the story. If your character is talking to a guy she likes, insert a part in your scene about a seal talking a ride in a wave. If your character is feeling miserable and is walking on the beach feeling lonely, insert a part in your scene about them seeing the left overs of children’s sand castles. Come up with your own if you like. Example 3:

Jonah had been knocked out — he really drowned himself without realizing it. The hot and heavy daydream about Carolyn saving him made him forget to come up for air. By the time Jonah work up, he saw seaweed piled in heaps in various spots on the beach. There were no children and broken shells lined the water line which was filled with debris.

“What, where am I?” Jonah said. Carolyn hovered over him. “Did I go to hell?” Jonah stood up. “There’s no way because you’re here. Tell me, what happened, Carolyn?”

Identify the main purpose of this scene. Don’t let it linger on without meaning.

» A. Connect all that you can in this scene with your plot. Enhance the characters, bring in new revelations, and/or establish a long-lasting setting that will take place throughout the entire novel.

I. What significant thing happens during this scene? Is it someone that your character meets? Something they find? What important event unfolds and how does your character handle it? II. What is the next step? If the scene’s purpose was for your character to meet someone, then are they going to leave the beach and go somewhere else to have a more serious, maybe private conversation? If not, the beach can be their go to area where they meet in secret, far, far away from the rest of the world. III. Does the ocean or animals on the beach have any relevance? Or does this scene on pertain around human beings and their behaviors toward one another? Animals can potentially save your character if they are about to drown. Animals can be in danger and your character tries to help them, and, in the process, they meet the love of their life or a true friend that wants to help this animal too. Hint: it could be the lifeguard.

Example 4:

Carolyn spoke with such elegance. This was the first time Jonah heard her speak. “Your heart stopped beating and I had to do CPR on you. The ambulance is on its way so hang in there, okay.”

“Wait, Carolyn,” Jonah tried to speak as best as he could, “before they take me away, I want to say I love you so very much.”

» B. Exit the scene in style, and leave hints about if the character will return or not.

I. One of the best ways to finish a beach scene is to show how the scenery, setting and/or environment took effect on your character. For instance, did your character have more peace after visiting the beach or feel anger. Then, connect it back to your plot. Whatever trials and tribulations your character faced throughout the book, take from your simple beach scene and incorporate into the story.

Let’s say at the beach your character finally learned how to swim. Then maybe later on in your book have the character save someone who is about to drown, or join a swimming competition. Another example is if your character met someone. Maybe that special someone can later be of importance to your protagonist

II. What is the most important image/memory that both the character and reader should take from this scene? It could be as small as the walk on the beach to as big as learning how to swim, finally. You decide. And, with that image/memory, have your character reminisce about their time on the way back home. Give them a short dialogue or monologue, saying how their time was well spent. (Unless, of course, they had a miserable time at the beach).

Example 5:

Carolyn giggled. “I know,” she said, “before you woke up you were mumbling to yourself. I know everything. All about your crush, all about your fake drowning attempt.”

“And you’re not mad at me?”

Carolyn shrugged. “I was. But I guess I forgave you.”

Jonah closed his eyes and smiled. “See, this is why I love you. I don’t know you very well but your awesome personality shines through.”

“Don’t be corny,” Carolyn said.

“No, I’m being serious. When the ambulance comes to take me away, will I be able to see you again?”

Carolyn nodded. “Of course. You can always find me here.”

“Right, I almost forgot. Silly me. You’re a life guard.”

Carolyn turned red. “Um,” she said softly, “not just a life guard.” She pointed down. “I’m also a mermaid. The ocean is my home.”

Jonah looked down at the large, purple fin he had been resting on. Surprised to see that it was real and in no way a trick, he fainted once again. This time, he had a very vivid dream that only he will ever know about.

** !You might have to scroll down the textbox with your mouse!

Jonah hadn’t been to the beach since his first semester of college started. It had been a long couple of months but he survived nonetheless. And, instead of going to a frat party to drink himself silly, he wanted to revisit the place where he first fell in love with life. Could it have been the dazzling sand that sparked in the golden sunlight, or the hungry seagulls beating their wings against the ambush of wind. Listening with both an open heart and ear, Jonah heard the waves crashing against a nearby rock. This rock had been the go-to place for him as a kid. He used to jump off of it and into the water, or sit on it and read his favorite book.

As the memories poured in, Jonah headed over to the rock where he knew a flood of happiness would follow him. The best stress relief wasn’t popping pills or smoking a joint with his buds, nah… it was the peaceful serenity of the beach. The smell of saltwater traveling up his nostrils, releasing a spell-like hypnotic trance on him. Yes, it was the gritty sand against his bare feet, the tall, hard rock positioned appropriately against his butt as he read a book. But it didn’t end there. The one thing that made Jonah always returned to the beach wasn’t only because of those reasons. It also had to do with the feel— the emotion he got whenever he looked out far into the ocean. He would forget all forms of agony, pain, regret and frustration. A strong since of peace and calm resided over him always. Only the beach made him feel such things. With the infinite blue sky above promising sunshine, and the big, fluffy white clouds adding a touch of ecstasy.

Though, all of this fantasizing buildup went out his mind the moment he saw Carolyn, the life guard. She was ten years older than him, but ever since Jonah could remember he had a major crush on her. Watching her sexy body climb up in her high chair with the binoculars in one hand and a whistle around her neck, gave Jonah an idea. A devious idea. The other beach goers meant nothing to him; he wanted her to notice him one way or another…. even if it meant fake drowning. Then it happened. Just like that! No thinking, no pauses: Jonah jumped into the water, screaming. Carolyn looked his way immediately. Running quickly to save him, she blew her whistle for back up and used her binocular to find the fallen body. Jonah saw her every move through his squinted eyes, however he knew in order to make it look realistic, he had to go under water. So he did and in the water below, he pictured Carolyn rescuing him and kissing him…. uh, I mean… doing CPR. Jonah had been knocked out — he really drowned himself without realizing it. The hot and heavy daydream about Carolyn saving him made him forget to come up for air. By the time Jonah work up, he saw seaweed piled in heaps in various spots on the beach. There were no children and broken shells lined the water line which was filled with debris.

Carolyn spoke with such elegance. This was the first time Jonah heard her speak. “Your heart stopped beating and I had to do CPR on you.The ambulance is on its way so hang in there, okay.”

Carolyn giggled. “I know,” she said, “before you woke up you were mumbling to yourself. I know everything. All about your crush, all about your fake drowning attempt.”

7 thoughts on “ How to Write a Beach Scene ”

this really helped my grades thank’s

You’re welcome Claudia. Spread the word, fellow writer! 🙂

This is good but sadly not what I need rn

Hello :P, can you give us an idea of what you were looking for?

This helped me a lot . Thank you . can you help me with the picture description please

i love this website it helped me so much

This is a really good website, thank you!

Introduction

Description of a beach.

Summer is the perfect time for individuals to visit and enjoy the marvelous scenes along the coast. In addition, the feelings and experiences felt on the beach during the summer are always fantastic. Several sceneries and experiences are seen and felt at the beach during summer. These include; the plantation along the beach and inside the sea, the animals, the waters, and the people found on the beach.

The beach appears to be alive and joyful with the presence of the natural vegetation. There are evergreen plantations both along and inside the beach. Images of buoyant seaweeds can be seen along the shore. Palms trees are seen to stand tall along the beach, dancing to the tune of the breeze emanating from the waters of the sea.

The sea grapes and the sea oats are also observed gathered in clusters in the sea next to the shore. Their colored flowers are splendid and brighten at the shining of the summer sun. The sweet scent of the flower grapes sends a signal to the world about the hope brought by nature.

The atmosphere is fully intensified by the aroma produced by the buoyant sea flowers. In addition, from afar, images of leafless trees are also observed. The perfect combination of the vegetation along the beach and inside the sea displays the beauty of nature to the highest peak.

It mesmerizes the eyes to gaze at the beautiful creatures that hover all over the beach and on the deep-sea waters. There are sights of beautiful birds that fly all over the dry shoreland and over the seawaters. Their colored feathers brightened the sea with a marvelous appearance at their illumination by the sun’s rays.

There are varieties of birds that are in the vicinity. For instance, there are pelicans and seagulls. Pelicans are seen hovering over the sand, singing sweet melodies that make the atmosphere at the beach vibrant. The seagulls are also observed to be flying over the seawater in small groups. Some of the birds are gathered in groups spreading the wings that cloaked a soft shadow on the gentle water ripples.

Next to the shore, there are sea turtles that seem to enjoy the summer heat from the sun. Their eggs are also seen to be exposed on the sand by the children that play on the shoreline. Bees are seen flying from one flower to another over the sea grapes. The humming of the bees as they gather nectar from the sea flowers attracts insect-eating birds.

Large crowds are observed all over the seashore. These people come to enjoy themselves on the beach at this period of the year. In the sea, people of all ages and sexes are seen swimming and playing with the cool seawater. The scorching heat from the summer sun is felt on the forehead of all individuals.

This makes the people chill themselves in the cool waters of the sea. The children are seen playing beach ball on the shoreline. Some children are also seen pelt each other with sand on the shoreline. Besides, young boys are observed climbing tall palm trees to gather fruits.

What is more, several activities take place along and inside the shoreline. Vendors are seen carrying ice creams and soft drinks all over the shoreline. Views of homes, hotels, and other buildings that run along the peak of the beach are also seen. On the sand where children play, pieces of shells are scattered.

In most cases, children collect the shells for fun. In the shades built along the shoreline, people are seen reading books, journals, and magazines. Some are seen idling on the sand, while few adults are observed playing football.

However, there is a disgusting scene of plastic bags, cigarette butts, food wrappers, and beer bottles along the beach. These items seem to pollute the entire shoreline and the seawater.

Anglers are also observed far into the sea casting large nets into the waters to have a bulk catch of their prey. Some of the anglers are also observed perching on the edge of the shore carrying sticks in their hands. Their faces displayed the anticipation that they had for their prey.

The deep waters of the sea produce a marvelous view for anyone who gazes at the sea. The water is seen to be slowly running low on the shore. Small waves are also observed crashing on the shoreline. The surface of the sea is seen to appear blue in color.

However, some portions are also seen to have the spectrum that results from the sun’s refracted rays. Deep inside the sea, there are high waves that lift boats up and down mightily. The shimmering waves of the sea that are clear and blue mirror the rays of the hot sun. The refreshing breeze that emanates from the seawater is enjoyable.

In conclusion, the beach has a perfect view and activities that are delightful to experience during the summer. It is a place that everyone would love to be at all times.

Chicago (A-D)
Chicago (N-B)

IvyPanda. (2023, October 29). Beach Description Essay. https://ivypanda.com/essays/description-of-the-beach-scene-in-summer/

"Beach Description Essay." IvyPanda , 29 Oct. 2023, ivypanda.com/essays/description-of-the-beach-scene-in-summer/.

IvyPanda . (2023) 'Beach Description Essay'. 29 October.

IvyPanda . 2023. "Beach Description Essay." October 29, 2023. https://ivypanda.com/essays/description-of-the-beach-scene-in-summer/.

1. IvyPanda . "Beach Description Essay." October 29, 2023. https://ivypanda.com/essays/description-of-the-beach-scene-in-summer/.

Bibliography

IvyPanda . "Beach Description Essay." October 29, 2023. https://ivypanda.com/essays/description-of-the-beach-scene-in-summer/.

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Beach - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing

beach grass
beachcombing
Caribbean Island
ice cream van
ideas to write a story
ocean shore
sea pebbles
tanned skin

Rocks of barnacle crown and seaweed garland adorn the beach as titan crowd.

A chorus of sun-warmed grains sings the melody of the beaches right into my core.

As the seabed swaps the salty brine for oceanic air, we see the beach rise from lacy waves.

Upon the sunny beach, upon the rising gold, my eyes listen to the light as it plays upon seawater.

When these boats of nature's tide, these free sailing sun-kissed branches, come to rest upon either pebbles or golden sands, they sit as kings adoring the seawater view.

There is a soft song of the marram grasses, the green lullaby that speaks so well to the soul without even a whispered word.

The softened hues of the beach at eventide are the colours of my ever-dreams.

The sand is the most gentle hue of gold, almost earthen and muted, the humble star of the scene. I love this beach. I love the driftwood that comes upon the buoyant waves as tiny rescue boats. Then there is the seaweed, that flora of those salty waves, as deeply green as any high summer foliage. My favourite though, of everything that is here upon the softly rolling dunes, is the tall, tall grass that whispers so sweetly into the gusting breeze.

The beach stretched out alongside the water, these constant friends chattering as the water comes in her reassuring way, as if her joy is to soothe the sand. And in her wake she gives the chance for life, for the rock pools to refill. Those briny waves come as rain to a dessert, a gift never repaid, as it always is with nature... the strong give, life thrives... and so it goes on.

Upon this primrose sand, the hue as gentle on the eye as a vintage photograph, there is a steady warmth from the grains. Already the stars glow as if they have kept a pocket of the daytime to shine all through the night sky. Sometimes I think the earth and the moon choose to give of their borrowed warmth and light until the return of the sun, the brilliance forever promised at dawn. Until then, here I remain, breathing deeply of ocean carried air, listening to the percussion of waves that has been my lullaby since before I was a consciousness wrapped in human form.

Jerry sat on the beach, his eyes moving from sand to stone, from rock pools to breaking waves. In the gentle spring sunshine he felt as if he were swimming in the briny aroma, as if the new rays of the day brought a frisson of energy to his finger tips. It was a day for letting his eyes stay open, as he were an old fashioned camera, remaining still while the image developed. The gulls brought their hight notes to the percussion of pebbles at the shoreline. It was a day for dreaming, for allowing time to move fast and slow.

The rain gives of herself unto the ocean, each fragment becoming apart of the body of brine, of the waves and sea-lace. I hear each watery gift, softer than the patter on a rooftop, moving in subtle waves of its own according to the wind. I wonder if this is how music began, how mankind thought to conjure song and dance, by hearing the natural rhythms of nature. Upon the sand, the rain is almost silent, enriching the hue from cream to ears of summer maize.

The sand is softly golden with just the right comforting warmth. To rest on the beach feels like a cosy hug, one only matched by the sunshine filled sky. Tom stretches out both arms and legs to look like a boy-starfish, his grin growing slowly into a broad smile. The only marker of time today is the sun above, the moments savoured by the waves that wash the sands in white lace.

With browning legs curled under, dusted with sand like flour on bread, I sit close to the lapping waves. They feel warm and cool, like tea that's been forgotten and returned to. My fingers wiggle in the water, in these lips of the ocean as she sings. In this place I will remain until the tide is lower, scooping the sand that runs like cold lava through my star-fish fingers and onto the dry beach. With each handful I twist my body as if dancing in a chair, gazing at the falling sand. Below it rises a drip-castle, a sandcastle that looks for all the world like a melted candle. By sunset there will be a long skinny line of them following the ocean as she chases the moon.

In twilight the beach was tinted sepia, the sand more orange, the water darker, our skin soft to the eye. We sat there, Tara to my left, Leon to my right, just taking in the evening and chatting in our characteristic pattern, the laughs and the serious intermingled.

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BRYN DONOVAN

tell your stories, love your life

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How to Describe a Beach…Brilliantly

I thought it would be fun to do a post about how to describe a beach in a story,

especially since summer is here! I love doing these “master lists for writers” posts, and I hadn’t done one in a while. Bookmark it or pin it on Pinterest for future reference!

If you’re writing a scene or a story with a beach setting, vivid images and other sensory details can make the reader feel like they’re really there, so use these lists of beach sights, sounds, smells, sensations, and even beach foods! I’ve included a list of beautiful coastal words, too. I hope this helps as you think about how to describe a beach in a story! By the way, if you want some inspiration for a summer story, check out my 50 Summer Writing Prompts.

Beach Sights

white-capped waves

white foam on the shore

footprints in the sand

messages written in the sand

seagrass waving in the wind

other birds, such as pelicans, sandpipers, and spoonbills

sunrises or sunsets reflecting on the water

moonlight reflecting on the water

wooden boardwalks

wooden piers

wooden lifeguard stands

blackened sand from natural oil seeps

large beach umbrellas

lounge chairs

brightly patterned beach towels

flip-flop sandals

large beach hats

plastic buckets and pails

beach balls

seashells, especially in the wet sand near the shore at low tide

smooth stones—sometimes stacked by beachgoers

sea urchins, sea stars, mussels, hermit crabs, and/or small fish in tide pools

clumps of brown seaweed on the sand

large rocks at the shore, crusted with barnacles and shells

bonfires—or the charred remains of them

discarded bottles and cans

sailboats, motorboats, and yachts

oil tankers far offshore

children building sandcastles

people flying kites

dogs chasing balls and Frisbees

paddleboarders

windsurfers

water skiiers

parasailers

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Beach Sounds

I think sounds are such an important part of how to describe a beach, because you hear things there that you don’t hear anywhere else.

lapping or crashing waves

seagull cries

rock, rap, or other music blasting from portable speakers

boat motors

laughing or shouting children

beach volleyball game—the thump of the ball; players calling to one another; players clapping

crunch of a play shovel in the sand

the “thunk” of a coconut dropping to the ground

music from ice cream trucks

Beach Smells

fishy smells

suntan lotion (coconut scent)

decaying algae and seaweed

marijuana smoke, at some beaches

Beach Sensations

sand between toes

hot sand under bare feet

being knocked over (or almost) by a wave

cold water…or warm water

rough stone outcroppings

breeze in one’s hair

sun heating one’s skin

Beach Foods

These are some foods frequently sold at stands and restaurants on boardwalks and near beaches in the U.S.

frozen custard

tacos, especially fish tacos

French fries, straight and curly

soft pretzels

popcorn—butter, cheese, caramel, or “kettle corn” seasoned with sugar and salt

lobster rolls (New England)

funnel cakes

saltwater taffy

fresh lemonade

piña coladas

Beautiful Coastal Words

These are some coastal words that I think are just lovely.

archipelago

bioluminescence

estuary (where the river runs into the sea)

greenling (it’s a fish)

shoal (another word for a school of fish)

spindrift (spray blown off the tops of the waves in a strong wind)

thalassophile (beach lover)

How to Describe a Beach - open book and beach background

Did you know that “beach reads” are more popular than ever?

A “beach read” is usually a light, fun book with a summer vibe. It doesn’t have to be literally set at the beach…but it doesn’t hurt. A lot of people love being at the beach, and a book can provide a fast, cheap, easy escape to a beautiful place…a virtual vacation.

Books with beach settings aren’t just for summer any more, either. Last December, I saw prominent displays of books with beach settings in more than one Barnes and Noble store…for readers who prefer sand to snow! It’s just another reason to know how to describe a beach.

How to Describe a Beach - beach read book, sunglasses

Do you have any thoughts on how to describe a beach?

Have you ever written a scene set near the ocean—or are you working on one now? Do you have any beach plans this summer—writing-related or not? Let us know all about it in the comments!

And if you enjoyed this post, be sure to check out my book Master Lists for Writers , if you haven’t already!

Thanks so much for reading, and happy writing!

sunglasses and a pen sitting on a notebook next to a swimming pool

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Aaron Mullins

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Creative Writing Inspiration and Ideas: 10 Beach Writing Prompts

Posted on January 19, 2020 by aaronmullins

Beach Writing Inspiration Creative Writing Prompts Generating Short Story Ideas Sea Seaside

Beach writing prompts and creative writing inspiration often comes to us in waves of inspirational writing ideas . Sometimes quite literally, when we head to the sands for some beach story ideas .

Short story inspiration can be found within the relaxing sound of the waves. Poetry inspiration formed along with footprints with the soft crush of sand beneath your feet.

Beach writing prompts are scattered across the sand. Creative writing inspiration discovered among the lost items washed ashore. Beach short story ideas forming from a mysterious object bobbing on the waves. Good story ideas are sometimes hard to come by, but a stroll along the beach may be all the writing inspiration you need.

Beach Creative Writing Ideas

A walk along the beach is just what a writer needs to clear their heads of daily tasks, relax them, and release their imagination and ideas. Many studies have shown that a walk on the beach lowers stress and blood pressure, boosts mood and has many positive effects on mental health. All things that can also boost creativity for writers .

The beach is also inspiring for us authors. Anything could be buried in the sand, or wash up on the shore. Everything we see is a beach writing prompt , if we only wonder where it came from, who the previous owner was.

Any kind of horror beach short story idea could be lurking in the darker depths of the sea, or a poetry idea related to the treasure waiting to be discovered on the seabed. Romance authors could even find inspiration for characters who don’t mind a bit of sand in hard to reach places…

“Meredith did drop her dress and her inhibitions, afterwards gently plucking a dainty shell from her bottom.”

I have just remembered why I don’t write beach romance stories.

Writing Stories at the Beach

I have some big news to share with you… after 21 years living in England, I have finally moved back to Scotland ! Ayrshire on the west coast is now my home. I can let the full Scots back into my accent, and my daughter can develop her own twang, so she may finally be able to understand what I’m saying in the home videos of my childhood!

I grew up in Wick, which is in Caithness (near John O’ Groats) in the far north of Scotland. A small town filled with decent, good-hearted, funny and hard-working people, my family included. Wick and the Highlands have become the setting in quite a few of my recent beach short story ideas .

In fact, enough to fill a book with a couple of beach story ideas …

The majority of my family are Scottish. My dad had also spent part of his childhood growing up in Wick and we had attended the same secondary school, Wick High School. My grandparents ran a tearoom in Strathpeffer and over the years the rest of us became spread out across the Highlands. The A9 north from Inverness is basically the trunk of my family tree, with each of us settled on the branches along the way (minus the few who smuggled themselves south of the border).

Beach Short Story Ideas

Wick has grown over the years that I have been away. What I remember as fields is now a retail park. The Caithness Glass factory that fascinated me as a child is closed down long ago. The ‘forest’ next to it that my friends and I used to play in as children is now mostly fenced off. However, all these memories and experiences are perfect for beach short story ideas and creative writing prompts .

I have been back up nearly every single year since I left as a fresh-faced 16 year old in 1999, sometimes two or three times, on 1,500 mile road trips. Sadly, in the name of progress, my primary school has been knocked down (North Primary School) and my high school is currently empty, a modern one built behind it.

Edit : You can read about the ghosts that haunted my school and terrified me as a child (and also provided writing inspiration ) in the bestseller Scottish Urban Legends: 50 Myths and True Stories .

Beach Themed Writing Ideas

The following is an excerpt from my beach short story Call of the Nuckelavee which was published in my bestselling book Mysteries and Misadventures: Tales from the Highlands .

The story is about a broken-hearted woman who trudges along the sandy dunes, following the voice of her drowned father. Her mind full of questions, she spies a dog ahead that appears to be beckoning her to follow. She suddenly realises it’s her father’s dog, missing since the day of his death. To rescue the dog, she launches herself into the sea, where she comes face to face with a creature from Scottish legends that has haunted her recent nightmares. With suspicions about her father’s drowning swirling around in her head, she must decide quickly how far she is willing to go to get answers.

She gasped as her foot slipped at the top of the dune. Arms flailing, she tumbled over the high ridge and down the steep sandy embankment. Coarse grass and broken shells scratched at her palms and face as she slid to a halt at the bottom. Need to be more careful. Drawing deep gulps of air, she spat a glob of salty grit onto the sand and pushed herself to her knees. The soft pale sand, so beautiful from a distance, betrayed those who wandered too close to its edge. She knew this, but she didn’t have a choice. The sea called to her, the promise of dark revelations on its lips. Confessing its misdeeds. Scowling from the effort, she stood and brushed the sand from her thick coat and fleece-lined leggings. Let’s do this.

The above book, Scottish Legends: 55 Mythical Monsters , is packed full of sea creatures and beach-dwelling mythical monsters. Based on Scottish folktales, myths and legends, any of these creatures could inspire fantastic beach writing ideas for your own stories.

Beach Creative Writing Prompts

The memories and friendships I have from my childhood are still strong, and now I’m living a bit closer my road trips will not take as long! Importantly, I can still visit the beaches I played on as a child. Reiss Beach in particular is one of the most beautiful beaches I have ever been to and is a great source of beach writing inspiration for me. And you can still find me having a dip in the North Sea (even the Trinkie) as late as October and November!

Wick and the surrounding area has a strong heritage, from the iron ages, to the Norse pagan period. It’s believed Wick was originally named from the Norse word vik , meaning bay. A Viking town then with an enormous sense of history, adventure, mystery and wonder in its beaches, forests and ruins. Endless beach writing inspiration for short stories and book characters.

To help you form your own creative writing ideas , here is a list of 10 beach story writing prompts :

Walking along the beach, your dog returns with a mysterious object in his mouth
Your dog stops at a particular patch of sand and starts whining and digging
You spot a mysterious object shining among the ashes of a beach campfire
You glimpse a hand rising from the sea, beckoning you to enter
As you walk along the beach, a familiar voice on the wind whispers your name
Drag marks in the sand lead inside a beach cave, but no footprints leave
You lift a small crab from a rock pool, and it speaks to you
You lose track of time exploring, and the tide has come in quicker than expected
After a flash of light on the beach, you return home to find the world has changed
As you watch the sun set behind the horizon, something rises from the sea

I hope these beach writing prompts help you generate your own beach story ideas .

Best of luck with your writing!

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Aaron Mullins ( @DrAaronMullins ) is an award winning, internationally published psychologist and bestselling author. Aaron has over 15 years experience in the publishing industry, with expertise in business strategy for authors and publishers. He started Birdtree Books Publishing where he worked as Editor-in-Chief, partnered with World Reader Charity and taught Academic Writing at Coventry University. Aaron’s book How to Write Fiction: A Creative Writing Guide for Authors has become a staple reference book for writers and those interested in a publishing career. Find out more .

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This post was truly worthwhile to read. I wanted to say thank you for the key points you have pointed out as they are enlightening.

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10 Words to Describe Sand on a Beach

By A.W. Naves

There is nothing like a beautiful beach to create a relaxing setting in your novel. If you’re looking for ways to create some memorable visual images in the minds of your readers, the following 10 words to describe sand on a beach will help you.

Gold-like, bright : having a yellowish-brown color.

“The golden sand of the beach was a beautiful contrast to the blue water.”

“She posed next to a golden sandcastle glistening in the sun.”

How It Adds Description

The word “golden” adds a sense of warmth and richness to a scene about sand on a beach. It makes the beach look more inviting and magical, evoking feelings of joy and happiness. The golden sand of a beach can set a romantic or peaceful scene. It can also give an illusion of wealth such as in a novel where a character is seeking treasure on the dunes.

Granular, gravelly ; having rough-edged texture.

“The coarse sand scratched at my feet as I walked.”

“It was nearly impossible to build sandcastles that would stay upright with such coarse sand.”

The word “coarse” provides a sense of the texture and consistency of the sand. It means that it is rough and has a rough-edged texture. This can affect the sensory experience of the characters in the scene and give a sense of how the sand feels beneath their feet. It can show that they are in harsh conditions, a less traveled area or a poorly maintained location along the shore.

3. Shimmering

Gleaming, shining ; producing a sheen.

“The shimmering sand spanned for miles as it reflected light back from the brutal sun.”

“The sand was shimmering like diamonds scattered on the beach.”

The word “shimmering” adds description to a scene about sand on a beach by adding a sense of beauty and magic to the environment. It creates a visual image of the sand reflecting light and creating a sparkly or shining effect. This adds to the atmosphere of the scene, making it more memorable and impactful.

Chalky, dusty ; having a fine, dry texture.

“The powdery sand was so soft that it felt like I was walking on clouds.”

“I left a trail of powdery sand behind me as I walked up the walkway to the tiki bar.”

The word “powdery” conveys a sense of softness and delicacy to the sand. It creates an image in the reader’s mind of the sand being finely textured, like flour or talcum powder. This description can evoke a feeling of comfort and relaxation, making the beach feel like a peaceful, tranquil place.

Speckled, multi-colored ; having distinct colors or shades.

“The mottled sand had a mix of dark and light browns that made it look like a work of art.”

“The sand was mottled with different shades and hues blending together.”

The word “mottled” adds visual detail and depth to a scene about sand on a beach by describing the pattern of blotches or spots of different colors or shades. It can be used to represent the protagonist’s journey, where they are faced with different challenges that leave their mark, adding to their own mottled past.

Harsh, rough ; having a grainy texture.

“The gritty sand was hard on my feet as I attempted to walk barefoot along the shore.”

“The sand was gritty near the waterline but settled into a finer grain further off shore.”

The word “gritty” creates a sensory experience for the reader and helps them visualize the sand as being scratchy and uncomfortable. It can convey a sense of roughness, struggle, or difficulty in a character’s situation, adding nuance to the story. As a representation of a character, it can imply that they possess the same rough surfaces as the sand beneath their feet.

Calm, peaceful ; unbroken in appearance.

“The sand beneath me was serene , allowing me to drift off to sleep in my hammock.”

“The serene sand was a perfect contrast to the noisy waves.”

The word “serene” creates a visual and emotional image of a tranquil and relaxing environment. This can help to set the mood for a particular scene, creating a contrast between the chaos and turmoil of other parts of the story. If a character is in crisis, the serene sand on the beach may represent inner peace or a moment of respite.

Pewter, grey ; having a metallic color.

“The sand was silvery as it caught the light that escaped the clouds.”

“The silvery sand made the beach look like a mirror reflecting the sky.”

The word “silvery” creates an impression of a shimmering, lustrous, and metallic surface. The use of this adjective can evoke a feeling of elegance, glamour, and magic in the reader’s mind. You may expect a silvery beach to lead to something grand or mystical, such as a long-forgotten castle or unexpected doorway.

9. Burnished

Glossy, shiny ; having a smooth polished surface.

“The sand was burnished to a high gloss .

“The burnished sand was like a glassy lake, reflecting the sky.”

The word “burnished” adds a touch of glamour to the setting. This could be used to enhance a romantic or whimsical moment in a novel, such as a beach proposal or a dreamy beach walk. A small patch of burnished sand amid otherwise unremarkable grains can evoke a sense of wonder and enchantment.

10. Stygian

Lightless, dark ; black or shaded.

“The obsidian sand on the beach was rare and exotic, unlike any other sand I’ve seen.”

“I picked up a piece of obsidian sand and marveled at its glossy, smooth texture.”

The word “stygian” adds a sense of ominousness or foreboding to a scene. It can be used to describe something dark, gloomy, or sinister, setting the tone for a tense or dangerous situation. A character may encounter stygian sand in a place that is unknown, creating suspense as they enter another leg of a journey.

How To Describe Waves in Writing (100+ Examples & Words)

Waves are more than just water — they’re a canvas for storytelling. In writing, capturing the essence of waves can bring scenes to life.

Here is how to describe waves in writing:

Describe waves in writing by focusing on elements such as size, color, sound, movement, texture, temperature, shape, speed, force, impact, and rhythm. Use vivid words and phrases to convey the wave’s character and emotion.

Let’s dive into the different types of waves and explore how to describe them effectively.

Types of Waves

Majestic ocean waves rolling towards shore, showcasing dynamic beauty. - How to Describe Waves in Writing

Table of Contents

Understanding the types of waves is crucial for vivid descriptions. There are primarily three kinds:

Oceanic Waves: Generated by wind, these waves are common in seas and oceans.
Tsunami Waves: Caused by underwater disturbances like earthquakes, these are massive and destructive.
Tidal Waves: Influenced by the moon’s gravity, these are predictable and occur in cycles.

Each type of wave carries a unique character, influencing how they should be described in writing.

1. Size : Understanding Wave Size

Size matters when it comes to describing waves. It sets the stage for the scene’s mood. Is the wave towering and intimidating, or small and playful? The size of a wave can convey emotions, from tranquility to terror.

Example Sentences:

The waves were colossal, looming over the ship like angry titans.
Tiny waves danced around my ankles, tickling my feet.
A medium-sized wave playfully tossed the surfers towards the shore.
Gigantic waves crashed against the cliff, sending sprays of foam skyward.
Small, gentle waves whispered secrets to the sandy beach.
The wave was a monster, swallowing the sun as it rose.
Miniature waves lapped lazily against the boat.
A massive wave surged forward, a liquid mountain in a furious ocean.
The waves were of average height, but their power was undeniable.
Petite waves frolicked in the moonlight, creating a magical scene.

2. Color : The Palette of the Sea

The color of a wave can reflect the environment, the weather, and the time of day. It’s a visual feast, ranging from deep blues to emerald greens, often speckled with white foam.

The waves glowed a deep sapphire in the morning light.
Emerald waves crashed onto the shore, a display of nature’s vibrancy.
Dark, almost black waves foretold the approaching storm.
The sunset turned the waves into a palette of gold and orange.
Turquoise waves sparkled under the bright sun.
The waves were a dull gray, mirroring the overcast sky.
White-capped waves contrasted sharply against the deep blue sea.
At dawn, the waves took on a soft pink hue.
The waves were a clear, crystal blue, inviting and serene.
In the moonlight, the waves appeared almost silver.

3. Sound : Listening to the Ocean’s Song

The sound of waves is as varied as their size and color. It can be a soothing lullaby or a fearsome roar. Describing the sound can immerse the reader in the scene, making them hear what your characters hear.

The waves roared like an angry beast as they crashed onto the shore.
A gentle whoosh accompanied the small waves as they kissed the beach.
The sound of the waves was a rhythmic, calming hum.
Each wave crashed with a thunderous boom, echoing against the rocks.
The playful splashes of the waves created a cheerful melody.
The waves whispered secrets as they retreated from the sand.
A loud, intimidating crash announced the arrival of the big waves.
The waves’ soft murmur was a lullaby that lulled me to sleep.
With a fierce howl, the waves battered the coastline.
The waves chuckled softly as they played around my feet.

4. Movement : Choreography of the Sea

The movement of waves is a dance orchestrated by nature. It can be slow and graceful or fast and chaotic. Describing this movement helps visualize the scene’s pace and energy.

The waves rolled in lazily, a slow-motion display of power.
Rapid, choppy waves raced towards the shore in a frenzied dance.
Each wave glided smoothly towards the beach, a serene procession.
The waves surged back and forth, a never-ending battle with the shore.
Playful waves skipped and hopped over each other in their rush to the land.
The wave’s graceful arc was a ballet in the ocean.
Aggressive waves lunged at the rocks, a display of unbridled fury.
The waves swayed gently, a peaceful rhythm in the aquatic world.
Quick, eager waves darted towards the sand, leaving foamy trails.
The waves tumbled over themselves, a chaotic tumble in the tempestuous sea.

5. Texture : Feeling the Surface of the Sea

The texture of a wave is a tactile experience, often overlooked but deeply evocative. It can range from smooth and glassy to rough and tumultuous, adding a sensory dimension to the description.

The waves felt silky as they flowed over my skin.
Rough, choppy waves battered against my legs with gritty force.
The wave’s surface was smooth as glass, reflecting the sunlight.
Frothy, foamy waves tickled my feet with their bubbly touch.
The waves were uneven, a chaotic jumble of water and air.
Each wave caressed the shore with a soft, velvety touch.
The waves were harsh, a bristly brush against my arms.
A smooth, rolling wave enveloped me in a gentle embrace.
The turbulent waves felt like a sandpaper scraping against my skin.
Velvety waves slipped through my fingers, a fleeting softness.

6. Temperature : The Warmth and Chill of the Waves

Temperature adds an emotional layer to wave descriptions. It can be the refreshing coolness of a summer wave or the biting chill of a winter sea, evoking physical reactions in the reader.

The wave’s cool embrace was a relief from the scorching sun.
Icy waves nipped at my toes, a brisk reminder of the season.
The warm wave wrapped around me like a comfortable blanket.
Chilly waves sent shivers up my spine as I waded deeper.
The water was tepid, a lukewarm welcome to the ocean.
A cold wave splashed over me, a sharp contrast to the humid air.
The wave’s warmth was surprising, like a bath under the sun.
Freezing waves crashed against me, taking my breath away.
The waves were refreshingly cool, a perfect antidote to the heat.
A warm current flowed through the waves, a pleasant surprise in the chilly sea.

7. Shape : Contours of the Ocean Waves

The shape of a wave is its signature. It can be a towering wall of water or a gentle, rolling hill. This visual element can dramatically change the scene’s atmosphere.

The wave curled into a perfect tube, a surfer’s dream.
Gentle, rolling waves formed soft undulating hills on the ocean’s surface.
The wave peaked sharply, a jagged edge against the sky.
Broad, flat waves spread out lazily across the bay.
The waves formed crescent shapes, cradling the surfers.
A towering wave stood upright, a wall of water defying gravity.
The wave’s gentle slope was like a smooth ramp to the shore.
Sharp, angular waves cut through the water, a geometric dance.
The waves bunched up, forming a chaotic cluster of peaks and troughs.
Each wave was a gentle curve, a soft arch in the sea.

8. Speed : Velocity of the Sea’s Movements

Speed in wave descriptions conveys urgency and momentum. It can range from a languid crawl to a rapid rush, reflecting the energy of the scene.

The waves advanced slowly, a leisurely approach to the shore.
Fast-moving waves crashed onto the beach with urgent fervor.
The wave approached at a snail’s pace, prolonging the anticipation.
Quick waves zipped by, barely touching the sand before retreating.
A gradual wave inched its way to the land, a slow but steady force.
The wave sped towards the shore, a racer in the final lap.
The wave’s crawl was almost imperceptible, a slow-motion display.
Swift waves surged forward, eager to reach their destination.
The wave’s leisurely pace was calming, a gentle approach to the coast.
Rapid waves rushed in a flurry, a blur of water and foam.

9. Force : The Power Behind Each Wave

The force of a wave reflects its strength and impact. It can be a gentle nudge or a formidable shove, affecting everything from the narrative’s tone to the characters’ reactions.

The wave hit with a gentle force, a soft push against my body.
A powerful wave slammed into the shore, shaking the ground beneath my feet.
The wave’s mild force was a caress rather than a hit.
An immense wave exerted a fierce pressure, knocking me off my feet.
The wave’s force was subtle, barely noticeable as it brushed past.
A strong wave pushed me effortlessly towards the beach.
The wave’s force felt like a tender hug from the sea.
A colossal wave unleashed its fury, a brutal display of nature’s strength.
The wave nudged me gently, a polite invitation to play.
The wave’s force was overwhelming, a powerful surge that engulfed everything in its path.

10. Impact : The Aftermath of a Wave’s Touch

Impact describes the effect of a wave on its surroundings. It’s not just the physical interaction but also the emotional and environmental consequences.

The wave’s impact left a trail of foamy residue on the sand.
A strong wave’s impact stirred up the seabed, clouding the water.
The gentle impact of the wave left a soothing sensation on my skin.
The wave crashed with such impact that it echoed along the coastline.
The wave’s impact was minimal, leaving the beach almost untouched.
A mighty wave’s impact carved a new shape into the rocky shore.
The impact of the wave was a refreshing splash, invigorating my senses.
The wave’s powerful impact uprooted seaweed and shells, leaving them scattered.
The impact of the small wave was a whisper against the shore.
The wave hit with such impact that it felt like a physical embrace.

11. Rhythm : The Pulsating Heart of the Sea

Rhythm in wave descriptions captures the pattern and tempo of their movement. It’s the heartbeat of the sea, a pattern that can be calming, erratic, or anything in between.

The waves had a steady rhythm, like the beat of a drum.
Irregular waves created a chaotic rhythm, unpredictable and wild.
The rhythmic lapping of the waves was a soothing, consistent sound.
Each wave crashed in a frenetic rhythm, a symphony of chaos.
The waves followed a slow rhythm, a languid dance with the shore.
The rapid rhythm of the waves was exhilarating, a fast-paced melody.
The waves’ rhythm was erratic, changing tempo with each surge.
A gentle, predictable rhythm marked the waves’ approach and retreat.
The waves pounded in a fierce rhythm, relentless and powerful.
The soothing rhythm of the waves was a lullaby, lulling me into tranquility.

50 Best Words to Describe Waves in Writing

These are some of the best words for how to describe waves in writing:

Invigorating

50 Best Phrases to Describe Waves in Writing

Here are some of the best phrases to describe waves in your stories.

A symphony of water and wind.
Sea’s rhythmic dance.
Whispering aquatic secrets.
A ballet of blues and greens.
The ocean’s mighty applause.
Waves kissing the shore.
A tapestry of aquatic motion.
The sea’s relentless march.
Foamy fingers reaching for the beach.
The gentle caress of the ocean.
A tumultuous ocean orchestra.
Cascading liquid curtains.
The sea’s serene lullaby.
Roaring aquatic beasts.
Shimmering under the sun’s kiss.
The playful leap of water.
Waves weaving watery wonders.
A chorus of oceanic fury.
The tranquil murmur of the sea.
A cascade of sparkling diamonds.
The sea’s rhythmic whisper.
Waves sculpting the shoreline.
A storm’s aquatic anger.
The peaceful sigh of the sea.
Dancing waves under the moonlight.
The ocean’s furious roar.
Gentle giants of the deep.
The eternal ebb and flow.
Waves carving their path.
A frothy embrace of the shore.
The sea’s playful tickle.
A crescendo of crashing water.
The ocean’s soft caress.
A symphony of surging waves.
The hypnotic rhythm of the sea.
Waves painting the coast.
The relentless pursuit of the shore.
A ballet of surging tides.
Whispering waves in the night.
The sea’s gentle serenade.
A mosaic of moving water.
The ocean’s rhythmic heartbeat.
The wild dance of the waves.
The sea’s harmonious melody.
A tapestry of tidal tales.
The whisper of wandering waves.
The ocean’s soothing whispers.
A symphony of sea and sky.
The playful song of the sea.
Waves echoing nature’s call.

3 Full Examples of How to Describe Waves In Different Genres

Let’s look at full examples of how to describe waves in different kinds of stories.

Mystery Genre

The waves were like dark secrets, crashing against the shore under the moonless sky.

Each surge seemed to whisper a cryptic message, as if the ocean itself was hiding something sinister beneath its turbulent surface. The foamy edges of each wave glinted eerily in the faint light, painting a scene both mesmerizing and foreboding. The relentless rhythm of the sea created an ominous backdrop, perfect for the mysteries that lay waiting in the shadows of the coastal town.

Romance Genre

The waves rolled in gently, a soft symphony under the starlit sky.

They caressed the sandy beach like a lover’s tender touch, leaving behind a shimmering trail under the moon’s romantic glow. The rhythmic sound of the water was a serene lullaby, setting a backdrop for whispered confessions and stolen kisses.

In this magical moment, the waves were not just water but messengers of love, bringing hearts closer with each tender lap against the shore.

Fantasy Genre

Majestic waves soared high, crowned with ethereal light, in the enchanted sea of Eldoria.

Each wave was a living entity, glowing with an inner magic, illuminating the night with colors unseen in the mortal realm. The ocean sang an ancient melody, a song of legends and forgotten realms, beckoning adventurers to explore its mystical depths.

These were not mere waves — they were liquid sculptures of the ancient magic that flowed through the land, a dance of the sea’s ageless power.

Here is a good video that will help you learn how to describe waves in writing:

Final Thoughts: How To Describe Waves in Writing

Capturing the essence of waves in writing adds depth and vividness to your narrative.

Explore our other articles on descriptions to enhance your storytelling.

How To Describe Clouds In Writing (100+ Examples & Words)
How to Describe Snow in Writing (100+ Examples & Words)
How To Describe Music In Writing (100+ Examples & Words)
How to Describe a Beach in Writing (21 Best Tips & Examples)

Coastal Inspirations: Describe Seashells Creative Writing

My name is Debbie, and I am passionate about developing a love for the written word and planting a seed that will grow into a powerful voice that can inspire many.

Coastal Inspirations: Describe Seashells Creative Writing

The Beauty of Seashells: A Coastal Inspiration for Creative Writing

Exploring the diversity of seashells: a world at your feet, uncovering the stories within seashells: the secrets they hold, seashells as symbols of resilience and adaptation: lessons from the coast, seashells: resilience and adaptation in the coastal realm, harnessing the ethereal magic of seashells: fueling your creative imagination, uncovering the beauty of seashell poetry, creating seashell art: embracing nature’s canvas for unique expressions, unlocking the mysteries of seashells: scientific fascination for writers, frequently asked questions, concluding remarks.

Step onto the beach and dive into the mesmerizing world of seashells – nature’s intricate masterpieces that tell stories of the vast ocean depths. These mesmerizing treasures offer not only visual delight but also endless inspiration for creative writing. Their delicate shapes, vibrant colors, and unique patterns evoke a sense of wonder and mystery, inviting us to explore our imaginations and unleash the power of the written word.

Immerse yourself in the coastal charm of seashells, and watch as your creative writing takes flight. Let the enchanting spirals of conch shells transport you to mystical realms where seafaring adventures and mermaid tales come to life. Feel the rhythmic grooves of scallop shells under your fingertips, as they whisper tales of hidden treasures and long-lost pirate escapades. Explore the delicate intricacies of sea stars, and unravel the secrets of a cloistered underwater world through poetic descriptions and vivid storytelling. With seashells as your muse, your writing will be imbued with the ethereal beauty and enchantment of the coast.

Exploring the Diversity of Seashells: A World at Your Feet

The world of seashells is a fascinating one, brimming with a diverse array of shapes, sizes, and colors. Each shell has its own story to tell, showcasing the wonders of nature and the beauty of the deep blue sea. There is an infinite number of seashell varieties scattered across our beaches, waiting to be discovered and admired.

Seashells come in a vast range of shapes, from the iconic spiral of the nautilus to the delicate lace-like patterns of the wentletrap. Some shells have jagged edges, while others are smooth and glossy. They can be massive like the giant clamshell or so tiny that they can fit in the palm of your hand. Imagine the thrill of stumbling upon a rare pink conch or a perfectly intact sand dollar during your coastal adventures.

Uncovering the Stories Within Seashells: The Secrets They Hold

Hidden beneath their beautiful exteriors , seashells possess an intriguing world of history and secrets. These delicate wonders serve as reminders of the vast oceans they come from and the fascinating creatures that once inhabited them. Each shell tells a unique story, a testament to the natural wonders of our planet. From the shores of distant islands to the depths of the ocean floor, seashells hold a wealth of information waiting to be uncovered.

Seashells as time capsules transport us to ancient eras, allowing us to catch a glimpse of the past. The intricate patterns etched on their surfaces reveal not only the evolution of these mollusks but also the environmental changes that occurred throughout time. These seemingly fragile shells are, in fact, the remarkable result of a complex process that imprints the life story of each individual organism. Whether it’s the vibrant colors of a seashell or the delicate ridges that symbolize its growth rings, each characteristic has a tale to tell.

Seashells as Symbols of Resilience and Adaptation: Lessons from the Coast

Seashells have mesmerized humans for centuries, not only for their remarkable beauty but also as enduring symbols of resilience and adaptation. As we stroll along sandy shores, it becomes evident that these small treasures hold valuable lessons that transcend their delicate appearance.

Seashells, like tiny time capsules, bear witness to the countless challenges faced by marine life. They serve as a powerful reminder that life finds a way to thrive even in the harshest of environments. Just as seashells endure the relentless crashing of waves, constant weather changes, and the ever-shifting tides, they embody the spirit of resilience.

Strength in Fragility: Seashells may seem fragile, but their ability to withstand the unforgiving forces of nature is astonishing. Their carefully honed shapes and composition allow them to absorb and distribute incoming waves efficiently, preventing damage. In the face of adversity, seashells teach us that even the most delicate beings possess inner strength and resilience.
Adapting to Change: The variety of seashells that flourish across coastlines worldwide reflects their remarkable adaptability. Each unique species has evolved over time to survive and thrive in specific ecological niches. By adapting their shape, color, and behavior, seashells demonstrate how embracing change and accommodating new circumstances can lead to prosperity.
Building Solid Foundations: Just as seashells meticulously layer mineral compounds to create their hardened exteriors, we, too, can learn the importance of building strong foundations . Seashells symbolize the resilience that stems from a solid base. By nurturing our physical, mental, and emotional well-being, we enable ourselves to weather the storms of life with grace and fortitude.

The coastal realm is an ever-changing landscape, and seashells stand as timeless beacons of adaptability and resilience. Let these reminders from the coast inspire us to face life’s challenges head-on, embracing change, and finding strength within ourselves.

Seashells, adorned with their intricate designs and captivating hues, have long been revered as more than just natural treasures. They possess an ethereal magic that can ignite and elevate our creative imagination to new heights. By tapping into the enchantment of seashells, we can unlock a world of inspiration and unleash the full force of our artistic potential.

1. Connecting with Nature’s Artistry: Seashells are nature’s very own masterpieces, crafted with meticulous precision. By immersing ourselves in their beautiful shapes, patterns, and textures, we can immerse our minds in the essence of art itself. Take a moment to observe how the delicate swirls mimic the strokes of a paintbrush or the symmetrical lines mirror the architectural wonders of our world. Let the artwork of seashells transport you to realms where imagination and creativity have no boundaries.

2. Channeling the Energy of the Ocean: Seashells are infused with the power of the mighty ocean, and by bringing them into our creative process, we can harness that untamed energy. Feel the tides of inspiration wash over you as you hold a seashell in your hand, connecting you to the vast expanse of the sea. Let the rhythmic sounds of waves crashing against the shore guide your artistic flow. Like an ocean breeze, seashells can invigorate your imagination, allowing ideas to flow freely and effortlessly.

Seashell Poetry: Capturing the Whispers of the Sea

Seashells hold within them a magical allure that has captivated humans for centuries. They serve as vessels of inspiration, containing the elusive whispers of the sea. Like hidden treasures washed ashore, seashells invite us to embark on a poetic journey, where we can uncover the enchanting stories whispered by the ocean waves.

When we hold a seashell to our ear, we are transported to a world untouched by time. The gentle roar of the waves seems to resonate from within, awakening our sense of wonder. With each delicate curve and intricate pattern, seashells come alive, inviting us to explore the mysteries of the deep blue.

Diving deeper into the world of seashell poetry, we discover an array of captivating themes and imagery:

Mermaid’s Lullaby: Immerse yourself in the magic of the sea through verses that evoke the soothing songs of mythical mermaids.
Whispering Secrets: Explore the hidden wisdom concealed within seashells, as they reveal the secrets of the depths only to those who truly listen.
Dancing with Sunbeams: Dive into the shimmering world of seashells, where sunlight dances upon their iridescent surfaces, illuminating poetic verses.

Seashell poetry allows us to unlock our imagination, blending the beauty of nature with the power of words. It invites us to become storytellers, capturing the essence of the whispering sea within our lines. So next time you stroll along the sandy shore, take a moment to pick up a seashell and let its poetry guide your creative spirit.

Seashells retain an alluring charm, each carrying its own story of the ocean. They provide a remarkable medium for artistic expression, as their unique shapes, patterns, and colors effortlessly enhance any artistic creation. When creating seashell art, the possibilities are boundless, allowing you to unleash your creativity and embrace nature’s intricate canvas.

To begin your seashell art journey, start by collecting a diverse array of shells. Explore sandy beaches or visit local shell shops to discover an assortment of shapes, sizes, and textures. Remember, each shell has its own character, and the combinations you choose will define the overall aesthetic of your artwork. Once you have gathered your shells, separate them by type and size to easily visualize the design possibilities.

Next, consider the various art forms you can explore with seashells. From simple crafts to intricate mosaics, there is something for everyone. Experiment with the following techniques to create captivating seashell masterpieces:

– **Shell Collages**: Arrange shells on a canvas or a piece of wood, playing with composition and color to create an eye-catching collage. You can glue them directly onto the surface or use a strong adhesive to ensure they stay in place.

– **Shell Jewelry**: Transform shells into stunning accessories by drilling holes or using wire to attach them to earring hooks, necklaces, or bracelets. You can add other elements like beads or pearls to further personalize your designs.

– **Shell Mosaics**: Arrange shells in intricate patterns or pictures to create stunning mosaics. Apply a layer of adhesive onto a surface, such as a tabletop or a mirror frame, then carefully arrange the shells to form your desired design. Seal the mosaic with a protective varnish to ensure its longevity.

These are just a few artistic pathways to embark on when embracing seashell art. Allow the beauty of nature’s canvas to inspire your creations, as you bring seashells to life in unique and captivating ways. So go ahead, let your imagination run wild , and create breathtaking artworks that capture the essence of the ocean.

Seashells have captivated the human imagination for centuries, leaving us in awe of their intricate beauty and fascinating patterns. Yet, beyond their aesthetic appeal lies a world of scientific wonder waiting to be explored. For writers seeking inspiration, delving into the secrets held within seashells offers an endless source of creativity and knowledge.

Embark on a journey alongside scientists who have dedicated their lives to unraveling the enigmatic nature of seashells. From the vibrant hues of the rare conus gloriamaris to the spiral perfection of the nautilus, these seemingly unassuming treasures are a testament to the awe-inspiring intricacies of nature. Discover how each shell tells a unique story, shaped by ancient oceans and evolutionary processes that span millions of years. Delve into the deep-rooted symbolism associated with seashells across various cultures and uncover their significance in folklore, art, and literature.

Explore the diverse classification of seashells and the fascinating names bestowed upon them.
Unravel the biological mysteries behind the formation and growth of shells.
Learn about the extraordinary adaptations that enable mollusks to create and utilize their protective exoskeletons.
Discover how seashells have been intertwined with human history, from ancient trade routes to modern scientific advancements.

The world of seashells offers an unparalleled opportunity for writers to immerse themselves in scientific intrigue while weaving compelling narratives. Whether you wish to explore the realm of marine biology, develop colorful characters with symbolic ties to these exquisite wonders, or simply find inspiration in the interplay between science and creativity, unlocking the mysteries of seashells will undoubtedly fuel your literary imagination.

Q: What is “Coastal Inspirations: Describe Seashells Creative Writing” all about? A: “Coastal Inspirations: Describe Seashells Creative Writing” is an article that explores the beauty and creativity of seashells through the art of descriptive writing.

Q: Why are seashells considered to be coastal inspirations? A: Seashells are often found along the coastlines, washed ashore by the tides. Their intricate patterns, vibrant colors, and unique shapes make them a captivating inspiration for creative writing.

Q: How can seashells be described creatively? A: Creative writing about seashells involves using vivid and poetic language to describe their physical characteristics, such as the texture, color, and shape. Additionally, writers may delve into the emotions or memories that these shells evoke, creating a more profound and personal narrative.

Q: What are some examples of descriptive language that can be used to describe seashells? A: Descriptive language can bring seashells to life, allowing readers to visualize their beauty. Words like “iridescent,” “glistening,” “pearlescent,” “curved,” “mottled,” and “petal-like” are just a few examples that can enhance the description of seashells.

Q: Can writing about seashells be a therapeutic and calming experience? A: Absolutely! Writing about seashells can provide a peaceful and therapeutic experience. The act of connecting with nature and expressing oneself through creative writing can foster a sense of calm and tranquility, promoting mindfulness and self-reflection.

Q: Is previous experience in creative writing necessary to describe seashells effectively? A: Not at all. Creative writing is accessible to everyone, regardless of their previous experience. All it takes is a willingness to observe, reflect, and express oneself. Everyone’s unique perspective will bring something new to their description of seashells.

Q: Can children also partake in this creative writing exercise ? A: Absolutely! In fact, children often have a vivid imagination, making them perfect candidates for exploring creative writing about seashells. This activity can enhance their observation skills and encourage them to express their thoughts and emotions through writing.

Q: Are there any benefits to practicing creative writing about seashells? A: Yes, there are several benefits to practicing creative writing about seashells. Aside from promoting mindfulness and tranquility, it can enhance one’s descriptive writing skills , foster creativity and imagination, as well as enable personal reflection and self-expression.

Q: How can one get started with creative writing about seashells? A: To start writing creatively about seashells, one can begin by finding a quiet and inspirational spot, preferably near the coastline. Take time to observe the shells, paying attention to their details. Then, let the imagination flow and start writing descriptions, feelings, or narratives inspired by these beautiful coastal treasures.

Q: Are there any writing prompts or exercises that can further enhance creative writing about seashells? A: Yes, there are many exercises one could try! For instance, you could imagine yourself as a shell, describing your surroundings and your purpose in a poetic manner. Another exercise could involve writing a short story or a poem inspired by a specific seashell you find particularly captivating. These prompts can ignite creativity and reveal new perspectives.

In conclusion, exploring the coastal seashells through creative writing offers a unique outlet for personal expression and inspiration.

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The Beach [writing prompt]

by Joe Bunting | 103 comments

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Write about the beach.

Write for fifteen minutes. When you're finished, post your practice in the comments section.

And if you post, please comment on a few pieces by other writers.

Photo by Vince Alongi

Here's my practice:

On Friday evening, he arrived at the house and immediately got Amber on her leash and went out to the beach. It was a cool summer evening, as only Santa Barbara can be. The tide was out and as he sauntered along the hard, wet sand with his jeans rolled to his shins, the cold waves came up over his toes and ankles. The sun warmed his cheeks and when the light summer wind stirred about him he caught the scent of the seaweed and the more delicate perfume of the saltsand. Amber trotted beside him, and when the wave came close, splashed in, tugging at her leash until the wave went back out.

When he got to the point he let Amber off her leash. She sprung into the waves, her head up and her mouth wide like a smile. He took a deep breath. He thought about what it would feel like to run in after her. He would launch himself over the waves. Foam would spray around him and the water would fill the space between his skin and clothes. It would be cold. When he got in far enough he would dive under the first big wave and his hair would flatten against his eyes. He might laugh. He might try to catch the dog and wrestle her. But that was for children and he didn’t have time for it. He called Amber and turned back toward the white house and walked away.

Joe Bunting

Joe Bunting is an author and the leader of The Write Practice community. He is also the author of the new book Crowdsourcing Paris , a real life adventure story set in France. It was a #1 New Release on Amazon. Follow him on Instagram (@jhbunting).

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103 Comments

Each wave crashed closer and closer to our camp on the warm sand. We embraced the Costa Rican lifestyle and arrived hours before the tourists even considered rolling out of their beds.

The sand. The thieving monkeys. The warm Pacific Ocean. All exclusively ours to enjoy.

The last one all too close to enjoy as we watched the waves invade our camp, threatening our peaceful, quiet morning. Surely the water would recede before it reached us.

At the same moment–too late to do much about it–we all realized that was faulty logic. As the swimmers ran in behind the tsunami, those of us on the this-moment-dry land began frantically groping for our belongings and throwing them further up the hot morning sand. Electronics first, flip flops last.

The wave crashed somewhere between the pitching of the electronics and the pulling up of the towels. the towels would dry long before we’d be done in the salty bathwater. The flip flops were easy to recover.

The greatest casualty was my brown journal, grabbed by the vicious water and rushed out to sea. I dove after it, scooping it back into the safety of my arms after the damage had been done.

Tucked beneath the words and prayers were flowers, leaves, and now sand. The pages holding the nearly-flat items were now crinkled with some added character from the sea adventure. The saltwater submission only added to the story.

Gorgeous writing. I love the journal. Love the journal!

Thanks, Marla!

Whew that was a close one! I couldn’t imagine losing all my writing. This reminded me of a saying. “The tidal wave is coming and you’re picking up seashells.” Nice work, Katie.

Thanks, Karl

I felt like I was right there. Great writing Katie. I don’t understand the section that says “the towels would dry long before we were done in the salty bathwater” . I love the description of the journal in the last paragraph.

Thanks, Marianne. I was trying to say that it was hot so the towels would dry quickly and the water felt good so we didn’t want to get out.

Duh, I get it now. I should have known that.

I like this. I cringed when she lost the journal, yet you turned what could have been a hopeless situation into something postive.

Thanks, Joan

This makes me want to read more, and that is always a good thing.

I’m so glad!

That vividly reminded me of a crazy time with a rogue wave that my husband had just recently.

I didn’t want to go skinny dipping that evening. I had no intention of taking my clothes off. It didn’t matter that they were my best friends.

The half-sun loomed over the liquid horizon. I stood barefoot in the sand as my friends jumped off the pier. Josh dropped his trunks to the ground and flung his shirt at me. He darted past toward the water, shouting “Woohoo!” as he canon-balled into the ocean. James went right after him. I rolled my eyes. I didn’t understand how they could run around, frolicking about with their bits and pieces dangling in front of God and everybody.

Jen came up behind me. “Come on, John! I’m gonna do it, too. We’ll do it together.”

I eyed her quizzically. “You can’t be serious. You’re gonna just run around with your tits hanging out, in front of Josh and James? You’re just gonna swim around with your hoo-ha on display for all the fish? What if a worm or something swims right on in there?”

“You are so funny. Come on, it’ll be fun!” She slipped her shirt off and let it fall to the ground. I had to admit, of the four of us, I didn’t mind that Jen was stripping down. She shook her shoulders at me.

“Ok, ok. I’ll do it. After you.” She wrinkled her nose and kissed me on the cheek. She ran off down the peer and jumped in the water.

I took my shirt off. Sighing, I dropped my trunks. I immediately covered my shame with both hands (I would have you believe that I did need both hands for the task).

I called out to my friends, “Don’t look!”

“Nothin’ to look at!”

“No one wants to look at your crusty butt, John!” They called back.

“Run, John!” I heard Jen call out.

I took a deep breath and ran down the pier. The wind hit the front of my body and made my nipples hard.

I jumped off the pier and brought my knees up to my chest. I made a splash in the cool water. I tasted the salt on my lips, felt the water in every pore on my skin. I treaded water with my chin just resting on the surface of the ocean. Josh and James were splashing water at each other. Rachel was floating on her back, her chest facing the sky like two teepees at sunset.

I wanted to swim to her, but something stopped me. I felt a sharp pain… down there. Right on the willy. It burned something fierce. My hand tried to cover it and I felt something slimy in the way. My palm started burning immediately. Right in front of my face I saw a little clear blob swimming with me.

“JELLYFISH!” I cried out. Everything was blurry. Josh, or James, somebody pulled me out of the water. I heard someone say take him to the hospital. I yelled at them to put my clothes on. Somebody said no, we don’t have time for that. Don’t look down, they said. I looked down, and I wept. My bits and pieces were red and furious, almost twice the size of what they were supposed to be. I never imagined a day when that would be a bad thing, until now.

It will be a cold day in hell when I go back to the beach.

Wonderful! I love the line about covering his shame. Perfect.

Karl I love your story! Your opening definitely captured the spirit of skinny dipping… too bad about the jellyfish (I wasn’t expecting that at all! Now I’m kinda scared to go in the water… lol)

My intention was to really play on his fear of being naked. The journey to the hospital, into the lobby, everyone staring the whole time. But the timer went off. 🙁 Oh well. I’m glad you enjoyed it 🙂

I couldn’t figure out if I was supposed to laugh or cry, Karl. Well done.

😀 Thank you. I’d prefer you laugh.

Oh good because that’s what I wanted to do. 😉

oh man. ha. it would be a long time before i went back to the beach too!!

Great twist. Wasn’t expecting that at all. A fun read, good job.

That was hilarious! The best part is when he is sell asking for his clothes when they take him off to the hospital.

I love the tone of this piece. I could read pages and pages. “Covered my shame with both hands,” “chest facing the sky like two teepees at sunset,” “my bits and pieces were red and furious,” all BRILLIANT. Terrific voice, terrific piece. Thanks for sharing.

Very evocative. The outcome after having to build up the courage seemed so cruel!

I have never seen the ocean, but already I don’t like it. We are driving on this back road in California, Dave at the wheel and me clutching the passenger door handle. It is night, the sky is navy blue, the stars like warning lights in the sky.

I still can’t see the ocean, but I can hear it because Dave has the windows down and the radio off. The sea has gnashing teeth, that’s what the sound is like. There are animals in it as big as my house. The waves crash. People always say the waves crash, and now I know what they mean. They sound hateful against the shore.

Dave touches my cheek. “Smell that?” he says. “That’s the smell of life. Of the beginning of everything.”

What I smell is fish and old socks and something like wet firewood.

We are too new to be here together. I met Dave three weeks ago. At a party. When I was with my boyfriend. My boyfriend left the next day, and I called Dave, who’d given me his number on a scrap of paper, slipped it into my hand at the end of the night, right before I walked out the door. My boyfriend is out of the country now, gone for a month. Drumming up business for his boss, who sells used American clothing to people who still think the USA is a mystery to be solved through mimicry and soft denim. When he comes back I’ll tell him it’s over. Because it is over. That is why I’m here.

Dave pulls off the road, and we bump along onto land that feels uncertain under the wide tires of the SUV. His headlights catch the sea, the waves, the endless line that seems to dip past the horizon.

I pry my fingers loose from the door handle.

Dave has a flashlight, and he’s guiding me through brush and hills of sand, right onto the beach.

“The ocean,” he says, like he’s unveiling a painting.

“The ocean,” I repeat, and lace my finger through his.

The moon is a tambourine in the sky, clouds covering and uncovering it, now you see it, now you don’t.

Far away is a campfire and laughter, and we step across beer cans and shells the shape of guitar picks. I bend to take one and hold it tight in my hand.

“I almost drowned once,” I say. The ocean is so loud Dave asked me to repeat it and I can’t.

“It’s beautiful, right?” he says. He wants me to love it. I see in him everything I’m not. With my boyfriend, it’s not the same. We are too much alike. I’d say I was afraid of the ocean and he’d say, Well, of course you are. It’s a deathtrap.

But Dave sees only beauty. He used to surf, he told me on our way here. He’s seen a shark. Got so close he noticed a nick in the fish’s fin. I felt a chill then, that ran to my toes, and back up again until it clutched my heart.

I reach in my pocket for a cigarette, and pull it out to light it. Dave stops beside me. “I thought you were quitting,” he says.

Here, at the edge of everything, I need a smoke. I need a Xanax, but nicotine will have to do.

Dave cups his hands over mine, and I give the cigarette up, and he holds me. I am shaking.

“It’s all right,” he says, and offers the cigarette back, but I don’t take it. The sea is rumbling, the spray so close now it hits my face. If I walk out three steps I will be ankle deep in the ocean. If I turn and run I can be back to the car in three minutes, tops. I look at Dave. I wonder what he sees in me. You never really know. I think, if I stay, that he will break my heart open and it will either die or fill up with light so bright I will shine on nights like this.

I think I’m ready to shine.

What an interesting story Marla, I like how you treat the beach almost as its own character (versus a setting). I can see how if you didn’t grow up near the water it would certainly be a strange adjustment with the noises and smells! (I’ve never thought about it because I grew up near water but the sea sounding like the “gnashing of teeth” is a great description!!)

Thanks KP. I grew up in a landlocked state. The ocean looks like a million ways to die to me. Although, I can’t deny its beauty!

I love how she starts out pessimistic and turns out optimistic at the end. Nice work.

Thank you!

“people who still think the USA is a mystery to be solved through mimicry and soft denim.” – – awesome. many lines of awesome here 🙂

Thank you so much.

I like all the description. I can easily picture the scene in my head. Especially like the metaphor with the moon as a tambourine.

You show the personality of these characters so well, the pessimist and the optimist (or I guess he’s just not a pessimist maybe). I also see her as someone who is going to make a decision that could alter their life if the relationship is of any duration. I wonder what it would look like to her twenty years down the road. Very interesting and of course very well written as always. Thanks Marla!

I love it when you read my work. Such insight. I think you make me better.

I love the last two paragraphs. She’s so scared and she’s choosing hope. Lovely!

Thank you. You’re always so encouraging.

I love this, Marla! I love the juxtaposition of their reactions to the ocean and the protagonist’s attempt to find reconciliation but instead she only finds fear. Great description.

Thank you Katie!

Another one for the anthology… Keep it up Marla.

This is very compelling. The character sounds torn up until the very end where it seems she’s willing take to a leap of faith with Dave. I love it.

Wow – the imagery is really beautiful and strong, and totally supports the emotional energy of the characters. Lovely writing!

He awoke early, before the sun had even begun to think of arching through the sky. The alarm bleated at him from somewhere in the darkness and he rolled out of bed groggily, begrudgingly. Pulling on an old pair of jeans, a grey hooded sweatshirt and his worn out sneakers he left the unmade bed and took only a moment to fish his keys out of the clay dish by the door before slipping out. This morning was particularly cold, and he shoved his hands in his pockets and missed his gloves. She had said it in passing a few days ago, just a thought that she’d never had before and would probably never have again, but as soon as she said it he knew he had to find one.

“These are so pretty! I’ve never been able to find one on the beach, though,” she cupped the sand dollar in the gift shop gently, then set it back down on the shelf.

“They are nice,” he’d said this gruffly, because he was already thinking, I would find a million sand dollars for you. They went to dinner afterwards, and she did not mention the sand dollars again, but they burned in the back of his mind as a small ember, slowly growing to flame.

Pushing through the dunes, the waist high grass soon fell away and gave way to smooth sand. Huge, gnarled tree trunks dotted the beachscape, serving as a makeshift breadcrumb trail. He made a beeline for the water’s edge, knowing if he was to find a whole sand dollar he would have to be further up the shore, away from the seagulls.

During the day, the beach was a flurry of activity: kite flying, dogs chasing frisbees, people walking along the surf and splashing each other. A few brave souls would even swim in the icy green-blue water, often diving in and coming back up a moment later, exclaiming at the frigidity. There were families, teenagers, old men trying to meet the exercise quota set by their doctors.

Right now, though, it was all his. Smooth sand, seaweed and the quiet wssshhh of the tide lapping at his feet. He paused to enjoy the scenery only a moment, then started his search. Most were broken, chipped or otherwise flawed. He’d been searching for what felt like forever – he wasn’t sure if he’d ever regain feeling in his face at this point – but then he saw it sticking out of the sand at a ninety degree angle. A small marker, so easy to miss. Squatting, he carefully brushed away the sand and seaweed to reveal a small sand dollar, so small it fit easily in the palm of his hand. Whole. Perfect.

He cupped it in his hand gently, lovingly. He rinsed it off carefully in the tide, then carefully placed it in his pocket. He would give it to her later this morning, when he brought her coffee in bed. The perfect sand dollar for the perfect girl.

What a sweetheart, that guy. She’s lucky!

love the feel of this. the cold and the search, overpowered by love.

Great description and a touching story. Well done.

Audrey stood with her heels in her left hand. Her toes dug deep into the sun touched sand. The wind wrapped around her pulling her hair forward across her face, her skirt tight to the back of her long legs. The wind seemed to be pulling thought from her mind, too. Pulling at it until it broke free, dancing high in the draft and soaring over the ocean’s edge. This place felt so unfamiliar to her. Her, who was raised in the Smokey Mountains, her, who was used to the sharp and jagged rocks of the mountainside under her feet, whose lungs had grown accustomed to the red clay dirt being kicked up along the roads of her childhood. The smooth granules under her feet now seemed so foreign. The ocean air moist and salty made it hard for her to breath; but more than all that, it seemed unfamiliar to face this unknown terrain without him. She looked down at her right hand, held in a fist at her side; marked now with age and she realized… even her own body had become unfamiliar. The hands at her side were no longer the hands that had held his under the moonlight. No longer were they the tentative hands of a young mother learning their first child. These unfamiliar hands had reached out for the folded flag they had presented her; these hands had clutched the airplane ticket and crumpled it with her first-time flier’s nerves. And now, she took in the vastness of the water before her. She took in the gravity of his last wish- “We always had such grand adventures, kid. Scatter my ashes someplace we’ve never been. Scatter them where it will remind you to keep exploring. Keep loving. Keep finding this world anew.” She raised her right hand holding the last tangible piece of him deep in her fist. Conscious, as she always would be now, she supposed; of the similarity of weight and texture she held in her hand, and the sand between her toes. And she released him into that wind that held her. She released herself into the unknown.

Ohhh that was a good one. A sense of wonder followed by closure, is what I got from reading this. One small thing: the critic in me wants to cringe at your use of the semicolon. But I have learned to ignore him unless he is wanted or needed. 🙂

no! I appreciate it. In these practice pieces I don’t spend a ton of time going over the piece for edits so I appreciate that.

I enjoyed the images created with the wind. I especially liked, “The wind seemed to be pulling thought from her mind” I could see her. Nice descriptions.

So, so beautiful. The one line of dialogue is gorgeous. I love this.

I like the idea that the ashes in her hand are similar to the sand. I think most of us who have thrown ashes into the sea think about that. It’s like when they say “ashes to ashes, dust to dust” at a funeral. The entire piece is well written. I like the detail. I like that the one line of dialogue is meaningful. Thanks!

Every year my brother and I looked forward to July 4th with great excitement and anticipation. After chasing each other around the yard with streaming sparklers, we would watch magical snakes unfold and coil from a tiny pellet lit responsibly by our father. Then, we would climb a ladder to the flat roof of our house and, turning toward the bay, watch the fire works explode and sparkle over the water. Then one year our parents decided to join several other families for a beach party on the Fourth of July. Going to the beach itself wasn’t anything special; we lived in a seaside town and going to the beach was a regular outing for us (especially when my mother needed a break). But going to the beach on July 4th was something we had never been allowed to do. Soon the day arrived and we packed our shovels, beach toys, food and fireworks into the car and set off. It was early afternoon when we parked but already the beach was crowded. The dads immediately grabbed shovels and began to dig a gigantic whole, large enough for twelve people to sit in. I was told that once the fireworks began, the hole would shelter us from the smoke. As my brother and I frolicked in the waves, we could see the dads, torsos glistening with sweat digging while the moms lounged on beach chairs smoking and drinking cans of beer. After a dinner of hot dogs, potato chips and cupcakes, we started to hear the popping of firecrackers and the whistling of Piccolo Pete’s. We lit our sparklers and chased the other kids we knew, the darkness thickening as the air filled with smoke. Soon my brother and I found ourselves separated from our parents who, at the onslaught of the festivities, had retreated to their giant hole. A new sound tore across the beach: the whirring of sirens as ambulances began to arrive. Frightened, we ran for what seemed like hours trying to find anything that looked familiar. Eventually we found our parents and didn’t venture away from our temporary compound after that. The next day we heard that a firework had blown up in the hand of boy my age and he had lost three fingers. We never again went to the beach on the Fourth of July.

Ouch! You really packed a punch with this one. Good work.

So many memories of childhood come flooding back when reading this. Well written.

How quickly this turns from a wonderful beach party to a disaster. I don’t understand what happens though. What is the giant hole for, and what happened that called the ambulances.

It was the most beautiful beach he had ever seen. But this was no tropical paradise. The wind whipped at his body with its icy fingers. The tiny grains of sand stung his raw, exposed cheeks as they pummeled his face. He was forced to climb down 100 feet of steep, jagged rocks on a narrow and rut-filled pathway just to reach this sandy wonderland. Between the rocks grew windswept trees with all of their branches and leaves growing on one side of the trunk, like bonsai trees with one side completely removed. The air smelled of salt and dead sea creatures. Despite all of this he found it to be one of the most remarkable places he had ever seen. The scenery was breathtaking with a horizon that dropped of the edge of the world. The compacted sand was the color of a perfectly cooked pancake. There were tide pools with hundreds of tiny crustaceans meandering about. It was a place that had yet to be stained by the intrusion that is the mass of humanity. It was nature, a piece of earth that still was as it was meant to be. It made him feel at one with the world, at peace at last.

Perfect! Sadly, virtually no such place exists that has not been tainted by mankind in one way or another. 🙁 Your descriptions brought a smile to my face, great job!

That is gorgeous! The details are great. I can picture it quite clearly. It sounds amazing and worth climbing down to see.

“the color of a perfectly cooked pancake” – I love that description.

The beach at Ocean View isn’t as impressive as the one at Virginia Beach. It’s narrower, dirtier, and the jelly fish are thicker there in the summer, but when it’s warm and the sun shines any beach can seem like paradise.

They didn’t have any life guards at Ocean View and when we were kids out mother’s would be so busy smoking, talking, and drinking iced tea out of thermoses, that is was surprising that none of us drowned. They did stand up and yell when we drifted down a block toward the storm drain pipes. The storm drain pipes spit out some interesting things sometimes like once a series of TV dinners were spit out, once a life sized baby doll with no eyes, and once a bottle with a note and a cork but the cork had gone down inside the bottle and the note fell apart when we got it out. Roger Dunchee, who I was not supposed to play with because his parents were divorced told me that a head and two hands came out once and that they belonged to a girl that looked just like me. I think that was after I told him I couldn’t talk to him anymore because his mother was a divorcee.

The worst thing about the Ocean View beach though was there were no leash laws and people let dogs run. I’m not afraid of dogs except for Doberman Pinschers. I think I watched too much of the TV show, Matlock. On what seemed like just about every single episode it showed Apollo and Zeus, two Doberman’s who were guard dogs baring their teeth and snarling, while being held back on their leashes or while jumping at a chain link fence. Or maybe the problem with me and Doberman Pinscher’s is the way they are big dogs but they wiggle and bark like the little dogs, and everyone knows little dogs are nippy. Anyway I’m terrified of them.

When we were about twenty or so, a group of five or six of us were lying in the sun on beach recliners when I saw a pinscher bounding toward us.

“Oh a doberman is coming,” I said. “It’s coming this way. It’s going to bite us.”

“It won’t bother you,” said Joyce.

“I hate them,”

“Well don’t start screaming. Be quiet and it will go on past,” said Bonnie. She lit a cigarette and gave me a dirty look like I was being annoying or something.

I tried to be calm. I was in the middle so it would have to tear through someone else to get to me. I remember thinking that. I kept my eye on it. It’s owner was throwing a piece of driftwood for it and it would retrieve it and run back. I was gleaming black with tan feet and big shiny teeth. I knew that driftwood had to be full of holes. Driftwood being soft like human muscles.

They kept coming down the beach. The owner was young with a tattoo of an anchor on his chest. The other girls thought he was good looking. He threw the driftwood and it landed about ten feet away from us at the edge of the water. The dog surged forward toward the wood, but passed it. He came straight toward us. I couldn’t believe it. I buried my head in my arms. I held my breath.

“Hey boy,” I heard Joyce say. “He won’t hurt you Marianne. Just look at him, pet him.”

I didn’t move, and then I felt it. I felt a wet, cold nose in the center of my back. Then one quick lick with a huge tongue. Worse than watching a horror movie it was.

“He’s gone said,” said Joyce.

I looked up then and sure enough he was bouncing down the beach in the other direction. He did look back and met my gaze. His mouth was open like he was laughing.

So much to love here but my favorite has to be the boy with the divorced parents. I love the way your story unfolds, the rhythm to it, and the gorgeous detail. The end is perfect.

Thank Marla. I appreciate the time you take to go over my stuff.

I will never swim in these waters. Even love can’t make me. They’re not the seas I grew up with, seas warm like bath-water, the waves lapping so soft you can sleep in them.

This water here bites. And the waves are hungry. If I were to even try… If I were to strip off this jacket, these socks, these gloves, and run into the churning white like my children are doing, like you, and gran and gramps.

It’s a thought. I stop there. I can’t.

Returning your hello that day, looking into your strange green eyes, that was the hoodie coming off. Saying yes those many months later, after I’d learnt to touch those bleached out eyebrows, that tangle of animal hair on your chest, that was the gloves. And flying over here, learning to live with your people, in your country, that’s as far as I can wade.

I’m drowning in it already. This life. Our life … Don’t ask me for more.

I love how this wraps around from the water to an entire life. I love this line, especially. “They’re not the seas I grew up with, seas warm like bath-water, the waves lapping so soft you can sleep in them.” Beautiful.

Great writing here Oddznns. I like it all but I particularly like how she starts to think the ‘what if” about running into the waves but then can’t even complete the thought. I feel her alienation. I think she would be a great character for a book, or story, but you images here are like poetry to me. I really like this piece.

Yumi had been drawn back to the beach. Inside her trembling frame her soul screamed in agony, her weakened legs barely held her up. It had been one year and eight months to the hour since hell rose up and sucked away her reason to live. On that frigid silent morning the black putrid ocean came over them and then forever kept coming. The shrieking banshee cry of the tsunami alarm vibrated through her bones as she ran with baby Akiko in her grasp. The impact of the wave smashed her legs and the baby tumbled from her tender grasp. The tiny bundle in the white shawl was pulled under the evil darkness, and was gone. Yumi waded into the Pacific Ocean her eyes on the horizon her heart broken. Soon the mother would again see the baby.

This is horrifying but the writing is good.

I agree, Marianne. It captures that primal fear and devastation so brilliantly. Nice job.

The image of this ‘ Beach Post’ was so vivid that I could smell the beach. Many thanks!

Along the White Sands… April slipped off her sandals, enjoying the feel of the warm white sand between her toes. The beach was nearly empty, except for a few neighbors enjoying the last rays of evening sun. She smiled and waved at the Herrings—the retired couple who lived next door. In the opposite direction, Mike and Janet Parsons sat holding hands as they watched their four-year-old twins playing in the sand. April acknowledged them, but hurried by—haunted by painful memories of Brad and of the children that never were. She and Brad once walked together along this beach—arm-in-arm, sharing their hopes and dreams. Then, life happened—three pregnancies, three miscarriages. It put a strain on their marriage and Brad moved out. “We both need some space,” he had said, “and time to think this through.” Whatever happened to ‘until death do us part?’ Had he truly loved her, or was the love conditional on her bearing his children? She walked to a secluded spot and sat down in the sand, allowing the waves wash over her feet. She gazed at the endless panorama of the azure blue ocean, wishing she could forget her problems. Yet she knew the time had come to face her situation. Either Brad loved her and wanted to remain together or he didn’t. It was time for him to decide—enough of him stringing her along. He had been gone for six months—long enough. She would call him tomorrow. “It’s now or never,” she would say. “I need to get on with my life—with you or without you.” With a newfound resolve, she rose and began walking back to the beach house. Twilight had settled in. The Parsons were gathering their things and calling to the twins to follow them inside. The Herrings had already retired to their deck, as they did most evenings. A man walked along the white sands toward her. A stranger? Maybe someone new to the neighborhood? No, there was something familiar… Could it be? Dare she hope? The person came nearer. What was he doing here? Had he come home? Home to stay? She walked closer and Brad held out his arms…

This is so good Joan. I am really happy when it’s Brad coming along the beach. You explain her situation so well that I feel like I know her.

Thank you, Marianne. I appreciate your encouragement.

I had the dream again, the one at the beach. It’s a cold gray Washington beach, not the pretty blue-skied California kind. I can’t see her face, but I’m pretty sure it’s me. She’s naked and alone. The waves are heavy and many. It seems like the beginning of an independent movie with swirling camera angles and avant-garde cinematography. She stands there for a long time. I notice her toenails are not painted, her thighs are dimpled with cellulite, and her hair curtains most of her back. She begins walking deliberately and rhythmically paced toward the water. The rhythm never changes, not even when her feet, legs, or waist meet the cold water. She walks until she is gone. There is no struggle, no sound, no pain, just gone. I can taste salt water in my mouth, but there is something not sea about it. Then I realize it is not seawater, but blood. I am not in the ocean. I am face down in a bathtub tasting my own blood. I can see myself from above myself. I scream. No sound comes out. Nobody knows I am in there. Nobody knows but me.

So powerful! I love this line. “There is no struggle, no sound, no pain, just gone.”

Wow. That was a surprise at the end. The way you move from the image in her mind to “I can taste salt water in my mouth” is great. The pacing is also good especially when she is walking without pause toward the sea.

Sand Castles

I have a photo of you, squinting in bright sundown next to the big sand castle we built on Clearwater Beach. That castle took hours. It took bucketsfull of wet white sand, and we poured itand shaped it into minarets and towers, arches and battlementson wide round walls, until our hands were raw, our necks burned red and then the sun went down. I took a photo of you with our castle, a snapshot to record our sweat and work and as the last light sunk into the gulf, we packed up our things and you kicked our castle down.

Damn. It didn’t preserve my line breaks.

Fixed it…. ish. Beautiful, Gabriel. Did you just write that now?

Love that last line: “and you kicked our castle down.”

So poignant.

Thanks Joe. I wrote it in a few minutes after reading the prompt.

Reading like this is like taking in a painting- lovely!

What a good description of both a sand castle and I assume a relationship. I particularly like that you put “kicked it down” and not “knocked it down”. I like the rhythm of the writing here too.

Thank you, Marianne!

Water doesn’t crash upon the sand here. When it reaches the sand it arrives a smooth hand upon a loved one’s cheek. At times, though, when boaters push the limits of the buoy signatures, it slaps upon the perpetually wet grains of sand, void of the relief of tides receded. No, the waters here more often than not rest quietly against the shores, a lover nestled beside it’s mate.Ashore, and in the shallows, in spite of the absence of surf, the activity is no less vibrant than on coastal cousins. Holes are scraped into grains, and forms of moistened sand take the shape of turrets and walls. Moats are crafted, and channels forged to the clear lake water mere meters away. at the water’s edge, floaties flop up an down as feet slowly submerge themselves into cold northern waters. Waist-deep, beside the docks, bread balls torn from a slice, drop atop the surface, a summons to the fish; nets clutched in elementary hands move futiley after the darting bluegills, their hunger sated, and their survival instinct piqued.Atop the aluminum tread of the adjacent dock bare feet thunder toward the terminus. Toward the depths, they launch their bearers skyward, out above the still clear pool, and downward, producing squeals of pleasure and refreshment, and wide-spreading splashes just shy of the swimming boundary.The scene is repeated, for sure, some in the majority of the 10,000 other places up here where fresh water collects itself as a lake. No, the beach is not just a foundation of coastal life. Here, in the land of lakes, the beach is woven into the fabric of lives from youth to the sunset years.In Minnesota you grow up near water. And, you make good use of it, year-round. It is the summers, though where the water is not only imbibed, but embraced, And nowhere is this more true than the municipal, association, and even hidden, private beaches marking the bodies dotting the state north from Austin to International Falls, east from Moorhead to Hastings, and throughout the entirety of what we call the Northland.

You have some great ideas here. I like the line about the beach being woven into the fabric of lives and the water not having a strong tide but cuddling with the shore. I think you need some action, some dialogue and some characters to bring it to life more. It sounds like a very different kind of water than the other beaches described here.

But now we reveled in the promise of our new found freedom as the inevitable decline of summer forced its way into our consciousness. W e were leaving behind the fear and embarrassment of high school for something that was much more feral. It was tradition for the newly graduated to camp out at the state park and various other campgrounds, setting up little shanty towns and spending the nights dancing around bonfires with red solo cups filled with various concoctions while trying to avoid the stern gaze of the deputy sheriff. It was a time when you lived as if these were your last moments. When you tried to hook-up with that girl from your chemistry class you’d been meaning to ask to prom or smoked a joint with that kid who always pushed you into your locker in the fourth grade. For once in our lives, we were equals. The hierarchy of high school was broken open as we all embarked on our new journeys, unsure of where life would lead us, and not really caring. But I missed the days when Jackson and I spent scouring the beach for seashells or digging in creek beds for arrowheads, when we were fireflies and our bodies hummed electric. These would be the moments that we would look back on during our distant reunions and say, remember when, those meetings of comparison and competition fueled by alcohol and more failed attempts at scoring with that girl from your second period chemistry class.

But even as those days fade into distant memory, things remain the same. The moonlight rippling on the water’s surface like piano keys, the trees weathered grey lining the dunes scraping the sky with their topmost branches or the way storm clouds rumbled low across the sky like wild horses, manes streaked by lightning, as the beacon at the end of the pier blinked knowingly in the night. The only record of the passage of time being the layers of graffiti covering its base, of lovers come and gone making their history known. It’s a wonder that in a town consumed by cleanliness and the conservation of tradition, this bastion for vandalism and rebellion remained blemished and unsightly. But perhaps it was this conservation of tradition that allowed these acts of declaration to survive throughout the years, as if it were expected, a rite of passage as you entered into the world of the unknown. But even then, we still cling to home. Most of my classmates never left this place. I sometimes think about them and I wonder if they’re happy, if they wished they had escaped. In the time I’ve been away, the solitude of this place still fills the deep places of my body and anchors me home.

We spent the summer bare-shoulder, skin kissed pink by the midday sun, freckles blooming across our backs like constellations. Our chests blossomed in air thick with humidity as we wrestled each other to the ground in a tangled mess of limbs still slightly tinged with the awkwardness of growing up. Seagulls littered the sky like bits of old newspaper as we crashed through the waves gulping against the shores of Lake Michigan. Sometimes, we would stand still and let the water creep up around our ankles and recede from our toes, watching the sand squelch between them. The world was filled with vague possibilities, an echo of adventure we felt deep in the marrow of our bones. But now we reveled in the promise of our new found freedom as the inevitable decline of summer forced its way into our consciousness. W e were leaving behind the fear and embarrassment of high school for something that was much more feral. It was tradition for the newly graduated to camp out at the state park and various other campgrounds, setting up little shanty towns and spending the nights dancing around bonfires with red solo cups filled with various concoctions while trying to avoid the stern gaze of the deputy sheriff. It was a time when you lived as if these were your last moments. When you tried to hook-up with that girl from your chemistry class you’d been meaning to ask to prom or smoked a joint with that kid who always pushed you into your locker in the fourth grade. For once in our lives, we were equals. The hierarchy of high school was broken open as we all embarked on our new journeys, unsure of where life would lead us, and not really caring. But I missed the days when Jackson and I spent scouring the beach for seashells or digging in creek beds for arrowheads, when we were fireflies and our bodies hummed electric. These would be the moments that we would look back on during our distant reunions and say, remember when, those meetings of comparison and competition fueled by alcohol and more failed attempts at scoring with that girl from your second period chemistry class.

The beach is home. Surrounded by waves I feel uneasy, but right at the shore, where the breakers hit the sand, I’m at peace. Here the waves are capricious—soaring wintertime gale-driven breakers, or the smooth early-autumn laps more reminiscent of an inland pond. The waves hit the sand like exhalations-sometimes panting, sometimes the quiet puffs of a sleepy giant.

I know this beach. I’ve met other beaches and even become friends with them, but I know this one like a brother. Even the irritating squeak of the sand becomes comforting in its familiarity. I once walked a beach where the sand was like mud. We didn’t get along. Here it’s so fine the grains rush over each other in their frenzy to flee the path of your feet—bringing to mind childhood chalkboard nail dragging. But it’s a small price to pay for a perfect hammock, and a free exfoliation to boot.

Water here is clear and cool, or warm and silty. But it never stings your eyes with salt. The breezes that come in off the lake are invigorating in their freshness. It’s almost as if someone wished for paradise: soft sand, azure waves, and no bite of brine to mar the Eden.

For many people, sea and beach are synonymous, but no matter how many calendars try to convince me otherwise, I’ll always think first of the shores of Lake Michigan.

“My” beach is the Chesapeake Bay but you and many others on this blog make me want to see Lake Michigan. It sounds lovely. The writing here is very descriptive and the setting would be good fro something longer.

This is a great story, full of the joy and adventure of youth. I think it might be better if you broke it up with some dialogue or action.

In the middle of piles of pillows, waking up to the sound of my alarm buzzing continuously. After hitting the snooze multiple times, I finally wake up and first thing I do is check my notifications on my phone. After I finish looking at my friends posts, I get up to open the window only to find the beach right in front of my eyes. My mom comes into my room to tell my that my dads flight was canceled, so he won’t be back until the following morning. I ask why his flight was canceled, and my mom tells me it was because of a blizzard that was happening. My dad is a business man, so he travels a ton. Usually Americans are known to love snow, well let me tell you something, snow isn’t my thing at all. In fact the one time it snows, I dread going outside, so I just end up staying in bed or being a couch potato. My dad doesn’t really mind snow, but I’m sure he minds the fact that he won’t be home for another day. My mom leaves the room, and closes the door behind her. I turn back to the window and open it to hear the sounds of waves, and light winds from the world outside of our beach house. No need to worry about what clothes to wear on what day, because the forecast is always in for a sunny day. All you think to do in the morning is wake up, eat breakfast, and put your swimsuit, and have fun at the beach with your friends. All you can think of is having beach party’s with friends and coming home from a long day at the beach, tan as a peach. I wash off, eat my dinner, and snuggle into bed. “dan da da dan da dan da” “dan da da dan da dan da” my alarm continues going off in my ear. No need to hit snooze because I knew I was going to wake up to the life of my dreams. I wake up and check the window to see if it was actually real, and all I see is the fall leaves and cars passing by rushing to work. I go back into bed disappointed to see the real world.

A soft buzz begins faint, then with the focus it gains from me, the beeping all of a sudden becomes immensely irritating. With a sweep of a condemning hand, the alarm is terminated, a red glow burning against my turtle shell turquoise eyes, adjusted to the shadows of night.

My analog clock reads five thirty, the sky a florescent yet dark navy, specked with select bits of sugar, gleaming against Earth’s closest star about to rise against the salted sea. After a few minutes of lingering around my bedroom, articles of clothing strewn about the carpeted floor like piles of sand, I realize how close the sun is to peaking above the Atlantic.

This will not be unseen.

I’d throw on some replaceable sweats and rush out of the door, hopping onto my bike and peddling with all my might. The cool, salty air would lash against my face as lush green forests slowly morph into houses, shops, and soon a sleepy town, just now barely awakening from it’s slumber. Soon, the harbor takes shape out of the commercial center of town, a mist lifting off of the sea. The pungent scent of cod forever stained into the docks and boathouses relieves me, unlike any tourists who might turn their nose up at it’s unique scent. I welcome it, when I can notice it, as it is like the familiar scent of home to me.

Then all of a sudden, like a wave upon the shore, I see it.

The sandy shores beckon me towards it’s hypnotic visage. I have no will. My legs and the bay are in control. And just as I reach the sandy soaked shores, icy morning waves crashing against my bare feet, I see it.

The sun peaks up above the ocean, my cloudless sky searing from navy to a bright orange and pink that slowly creeps upon my little hamlet. The ships that dot the harbor take a over burnt color, followed by lighthouses in the immeasurable distance, flashing the last of their light for the night. Soon, the forested hills are slammed with the all consuming light of the rising sun, hills reflecting a glossy verdant tint.

The sun’s furthest reaches grasp at the town, it’s chipped and worn pastel paints glowing in the sun’s light. Yet it still grows far beyond my own sight.

All while the icy waves crash against me and my beach. My wonderfully sandy, rocky, boat catching beach. My town. My county.

I like the passive language and the images you paint are really beautiful and intriguing. I got swept up in the other-worldliness of your writing! There are a few lines that felt awkward – the description of the narrator’s eyes, the phrase “this will not be unseen.” I wish the ending stopped at “…boat catching beach.” But otherwise really magical!

I hate the beach. Let me just say that first. Sunburn. Sand. Waves. Noise. People. What’s so bad about that you ask? Do I really have to repeat myself? Anyway, look, my mom thought it would be good for me to get outside and get some “fresh air.” She told me on Monday, “Virginia, we’re going to take a trip on Saturday!” I hate it when she calls me by my full name. “A trip? Cool.” “Oh, come on,” she scolded, “You don’t even know what I’m going to say!” “Somehow not very reassuring, mom.” I reached for a yogurt in the fridge. I could feel her stare boring into the back of my neck. “Come on, Ginger,” she whined, “we’re going to the beach.” Oh boy. Now she uses my nickname. That means this is serious. “Can’t we do something like go to Great Escape? I could really stand to be turned upside down on some weird contraption that passes for a roller coaster…” I joked. “Or, god, even to the mall. I could use some new sneakers!”

I’m guessing she really needs to get out of the house, but the beach? Shit. She’s already stressed out about the new job, so there is no way in hell I’m going to give her shit about it. OK, I know I already did, but, you know what I mean. Anyway, she started two weeks ago, and there’s this thing called a “lag” that’s been freaking her out. “What the hell’s a lag, mom?” “Ginger, could you please not swear? You know I hate that.” I shrugged a little and waited. “OK, so a lag is where you start the job, and you’ll be getting paid every other week, but they don’t pay you for four weeks the first time. You just have to wait, and hope you have enough money to get through.” Her face was a little flushed and she looked down. I waited. She sighed. Oh… “So, you mean we need to watch our spending for two more weeks?” I said. She nodded, slowly looking up at me, pleading with her eyes. Fortunately for her, I think I can live on greek yogurt and the store brand is on sale ten for five dollars. I don’t really need a lot of stuff, and I can usually make do with what I have. I can live without new sneakers. Oh god. Now I think I might be a total jerk.

So, mom. And the beach. “Well, look mom. The beach is free! It’s cool.” She looked up, smiled. I continued, “We can hang out like we used to before all the crazy…” No, her eyes said, NO! Do NOT say it! I stopped. Silence hung between us like a wet blanket. I held my breath. She looked down again, struggling to sound cheerful, “Yeah, hang out like we used to…” her voice trailed off. I stood, my hip against the counter, awkward and trying to find something to do with my arms. I’m tall for sixteen – six feet tall. I suppose I should say tall for a girl. Well, thing is, I’m trans. Have been ever since I can remember, but I haven’t been out for very long, really.

I’m six feet tall, with shoulder length auburn hair. (Yeah, Ginger. Get it?) I’m not a big fan of the beach because I don’t like to be that exposed, although I can wear a bikini just fine – I have one I really like, but I sunburn kind of easy. I guess mom is trying to heal us – this trip to the beach is maybe an olive branch, if that’s the right term. I don’t think it is. What do I mean to say? She’s trying to make herself feel about me the way she did before I came out. And dad left. Two years ago. I guess maybe dad left because I came out, or was it the other way around? It all kind of happened around the same time, so I’m not really sure which happened first. It’s a blur. I have my memories of things, but not in real chronological order.

Verasalt Beach was teeming with life that hot, cloudless afternoon in August. From volleyball to makeshift water polo on the ocean to castle-building by the shoreline, the densely packed beach was buzzing with activity — and inactivity, as many of the guests were content to bask in the sun and work on their tans. The sound of the crashing waves was met with the cries of laughter and jubilation, the squawking of seagulls and the occasional warning calls blasting through the speakerphones of lifeguards. Leo Palminsky, the Beach’s lone MD, or “Metal Detective,” was standing with the belly of his frail and wrinkled forearm resting on top of his detector’s handle while observing what was transpiring around him. The best part of his job, which he held for 20 years following his early retirement from the US army as an explosives specialist, was not finding and extracting metal objects but witnessing what he called the “good life” on this picturesque beach. For Leo, his 20-year tenure at this job served as much-need therapy from the horrors he had faced as a 21-year-old during the second World War, in particular the dreadful day on Normandy Beach, aka “D Day”, when he took three bullets — two to his torso and one to his hind leg —and witnessed the death of many of his fellow officers, some of them friends. It was June 6, 1944, but that day was still fresh in his mind. But he wasn’t going to let the dark memories of the past seep into the present, however difficult that was going to be. Leo reached into the right pocket of his pants and pulled out a brittle, yellow-stained note that read: “Look around you my friend… observe and absorb the energies of the people and places that surround you, and claim THIS day on behalf of all of us.” This was written by his then best friend, Sheldon, who died from his injuries a few days following D-Day. This had been part of Leo’s routine every day for the past 20 years while he worked on the beach: roam the sandy shores with his detector, pause after an hour or so, and read the note, over which he started to express concern since it was falling part — badly. It was ripped on all sides and the ink was fading. At this point, Leo was paralyzed with indecision; he didn’t want to exacerbate the note’s already poor condition by folding it. While thinking of a solution, Leo felt two sharp tugs of his right pant leg; he looked down to find a stout round-faced boy not older than four or five holding up an empty Ziploc bag. Flanking the boy was his father, who, after letting out a short chuckle, instructed his son, “Alex, don’t give the mister that; it’s garbage!” “Far from garbage my friend,” Leo defended. Funny, nothing could have prepared Leo for that awful day in 1944. Neither could have this moment.

Verasalt Beach was teeming with life that hot, cloudless afternoon in August. From volleyball to makeshift water polo on the ocean to castle-building by the shoreline, the densely packed beach was buzzing with activity — and inactivity, as many of the guests were content to bask in the sun and work on their tans. The sound of the crashing waves was met with cries of laughter and jubilation, the squawking of seagulls and the occasional warning calls blasting through the speakerphones of lifeguards. Leo Palminsky, the Beach’s lone MD, or “Metal Detective,” was standing with the belly of his frail and wrinkled forearm resting on top of his detector’s handle while observing what was transpiring around him. The best part of his job, which he held for 20 years following his early retirement from the US army as an explosives specialist, was not finding and extracting metal objects but witnessing what he called the “good life” on this picturesque beach. For Leo, his 20-year tenure at this job served as much-need therapy from the horrors he had faced as a 21-year-old during the second World War, in particular the dreadful day on Normandy Beach, aka “D Day”, when he took three bullets — two to his torso and one to his hind leg —and witnessed the death of many of his fellow officers, some of them friends. It was June 6, 1944, but that day was still fresh in his mind. But he wasn’t going to let the dark memories of the past seep into the present, however difficult that was going to be. Leo reached into the right pocket of his pants and pulled out a brittle, yellow-stained note that read: “Look around you my friend… observe and absorb the energies of the people and places that surround you, and claim THIS day on behalf of all of us.” This was written by his then best friend, Sheldon, who died from his injuries a few days following D-Day. This had been part of Leo’s routine every day for the past 20 years while he worked on the beach: roam the sandy shores with his detector, pause after an hour or so, and read the note, over which he started to express concern since it was falling part — badly. It was ripped on all sides and the ink was fading. At this point, Leo was paralyzed with indecision; he didn’t want to exacerbate the note’s already poor condition by folding it. While thinking of a solution, Leo felt two sharp tugs of his right pant leg; he looked down to find a stout round-faced boy not older than four or five holding up an empty Ziploc bag. Flanking the boy was his father, who, after letting out a short chuckle, instructed his son, “Alex, don’t give the mister that; it’s garbage!” “Far from garbage my friend,” Leo defended. Funny, nothing could have prepared Leo for that awful day in 1944. Neither could have this moment.

As I tread down the beach, the silver sands bask in the light like pixie dust in this fairyland. The lofty coconut palms oscillate as a warm, tropical gust whistles. As the sun drifts down the horizon, it hides behind the clouds shyly with the sky’s cheeks blushing a pink hue. As I sit on a rock and am sprayed with cool brine, I gaze at the fathomless ocean churn. As I return home, I ponder over the years that have gone by and the things that have changed. As I live, the one thing that is constant is the beach.

The Beach Cool and calm would how the ocean would be described by her best friend. Jade stared at the waves as they pushed in and out. She was sitting on the sandy shore, wishing that it were dawn already. The stillness welcomed unwanted thoughts and disturbed her peaceful surroundings. How could she think of anything else at a time like this? The ocean personified, that’s ridiculous. If it were a person it would be irrational and angry. The ocean continuously stirred, in a ceaseless rhythm that warranted disruption. She wiggled her toes a little in the sand. Feeling its cool, grainy texture reminded her of how much she hated the beach. The ocean, the waves and its cool salty air. Too overwhelming for the senses she thought. How could anyone escape when there was just as much noise here than anything else in her head. So why did she come then? It was not anyplace she wanted to go, yet she still arrived. Waiting, for own thoughts to be interrupted by an expected visitor. Pulling her knees in closer, she looked over her left shoulder. Seeing nothing but endless beach and her parked car. She turned to face the water again, not bothering to look over her right. She would hear whoever was coming.

I wrote this, just signed up and love the prompts and idea.

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Descriptive Essay about the Beach, How to Guide, Examples

Published by gudwriter on January 4, 2021 January 4, 2021

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Descriptive Essay about the Beach

A descriptive essay about the beach is one of the write ups you may be required to come up with in your English learning courses. It’s about giving a vivid depiction of your encounters at the seashore. In our previous post about how to write a descriptive essay, we explained the need for students to paint the picture of the object in the readers mind. The main objective is to make the audience feel as if they were involved in the experience. Read on essays based on different types parenting style samples.

This kind of writing will inspire you to explore your linguistic prowess as well as imagination. The success is achieved if your audience resonates with your words. To make this possible, you need to have ‘thoughts that glow’ as well as ‘words that flow’.

If you’re required to write a descriptive essay about the beach, there are things you should put to consideration. This post is all about helping you get a grade A in such an assignment.

Tips on Writing the Best Descriptive Essay

Have experience about the beach. It’s critical that you get conversant with what you are writing about. If you haven’t visited the seashore, try reading widely about the experience. Or, grab a documentary movie.
Keep your statements clear and concise. Vague information may not only be confusing but also boring.
Describe every aspect of the beach. Write about the weather, water, soil, sound, smell, sky, horizon, sun, flora and fauna. You can also talk about the people at the beach. Don’t forget your feelings.
Have a logical organization. You can choose to pick a theme for every paragraph. Or, you can keep a chronological flow. Also, be sure to have an introduction and conclusion paragraph.
Remember to review your work after writing.

Free Descriptive Essay Samples About the Beach

Last summer, I had the chance to visit my aunt at her coastal home. The octogenarian , I have to admit, lives in one of the world’s most serene places. The beach is a fantastic phenomenon and the fun that comes along with it is overwhelming. Two weeks into the visit, my cousins took me to the seashore, and I just couldn’t get enough of it. I fell in love with the splashing waters and cool breeze. I hated that evening would come and we’d have to leave the blissful sensation of the beach. I nonetheless promised myself to make the most out of the short time we would spend there.

We set out early in the morning with our cameras and light shorts. A light breeze blew and it took my soul with it. I felt like I was in a whole new world. The wind brought fresh air to my nostrils and I just couldn’t help but pump as much as I could. It not only filled my lungs with rejuvenating oxygen, but also my mind with a hope of having the best day of my life. My ears weren’t left behind either. It’s like the fresh air was singing melodious blues as we walked. I was sure experiencing something I’d never experienced before.

We arrived on our scooter right on time for the rising sun. Never in my life had I seen such a majestic view. We’d left home early on right before the sun would mark its territories. And, apparently, our cameras were getting the best work they’d had for years. Towards the east, the sky was literally burning. The first rays were already throwing their warmth across the sky. They were doing just like cheerleaders would do during an NFA match. Or, better still, like the escort guards from the Secret Service do before the Head of State arrives.

The rays did their job pretty fine. They were yellow and glittered like the flames of an enormous camping bonfire! While the sky was showing its beauty, the sea was glittering and reflecting back. It was as if they were partners colluding to welcome a big guest. The yellow glare made our photography interesting and every shot was worth it.

The sun finally hit the surface. The ground acknowledged its presence and started glittering. The tiny sand particles shed silver lights all over the beach. The sweet rays caressed my skin and I now understood why everyone at the seashore liked to expose theirs. It was a gentle warmth, I have to say!

My excitement was rejuvenated. But I couldn’t possibly beat the birds. They shouted with a wild joy. They jumped up and down. I saw several of them chase after sea creatures. It was marvelous watching the birds dive into the water and suddenly shoot up into the sky like rockets. No sooner had we joined them into the diving than people started coming out of their homes. The shore was flocked now. Some came for entertainment while others were looking for fishing grounds. It was a beehive of activities I tell you.

When evening came, it was yet another scenery in the sky as the sun dived into horizons of the sea. People started going back to their homes and the birds gradually became silent. The evening breeze blew, bringing another refreshing smell of the salty water to my nostrils. Waves of water splashed onto the coral reefs as the tides took new positions. The fishermen set out their nets as if their day was just beginning. Suddenly, my aunt was calling. She knew we were having too much fun, and that we’d possibly get late.

Explore a descriptive essay sample about a person written by our team of experts.

Sample 2: A Day at the Beach

We arrive at the seashore at day break. Bright yellow rays of the sun greet us. Their golden mien reflects on the surface of the water. The sun – the main guest – hasn’t arrived yet, but the beach is well lit already. The blue cloudless sky is overly yellow towards the east, which alerts that the sun will be ruling the day beginning soon. A breeze blows by, filled with a refreshing smell of the salty sea water. It gets me reminiscing about my childhood. I get nostalgic of molding magnificence with the sea sand. But today is another day altogether. I’m far older, with a wife, a son, and a daughter. Today is their day. I am just a companion.

The sun is now in full control of the seashore and its effects can be felt by everyone. It’s warm, and the air is filled with moisture from the sea. The ground is mildly warm, and the fine sand particles are glittering like scattered pieces of silver. I can’t help but keep getting strands of my hair off my sight as the wind blows them wildly. My wife’s case is more serious. But she looks gorgeous at the beach and seeing her playing with my kids makes me feel how quick I’ve grown and transformed. I look back at my childhood with a reassuring gaze as I watch my two bundles of joy run alongside their mother in the warm sand at the shore.

The birds stop singing now. Their entertainment about the new day is gone and they are focused on food search. It’s fun to watch them jump into the water, capture crabs and fishes, before darting into the air at electric speeds, like shooting stars.

My son is dying to swim. I know this side of the ocean isn’t crocodile- or shark-infested, but I still want to be sure. I remember that as young boys, we were so fond of swimming until when one day we saw a scary scaly rock moving on the water. It looked like a submarine that kept emerging and submerging. One boy yelled after he recognized it was a baby crocodile. I just feared reptiles and he saved us from what would be an end of an era for us. After confirming that it is safe to swim, I allow my kids to swim on one of the shallow waters around us.

I notice I am not the only one who cares about my children. A few yards away, a kingfisher is already teaching her chicks how to get food. They descend from the palm tree at the edge of the sea. The baby kingfisher can’t swim but her mum is doing all she can to offer the help. I also take a snap of a school of dolphins. They are far from the beach but with the help of my binoculars, my wife and I enjoy the glamor of seeing them jump up and take dives as they chase a boat.

It’s evening now. My family is happy that they have had as much fun as they’d hoped for. We’ve already eaten roasted fish from the lake for lunch. The beach, flocked with swimmers and sunbathers a few moments ago, is now getting less busy. Fishermen are starting their night shifts. The sun is already diving into the horizon of the water, leaving behind a huge yellow light. Birds start to sing again. It’s time for me to drive my family back home.

The beach is the place I go to whenever I need to relax and forget about all the hustles of life and just enjoy myself. As usual, my last visit to there was a memorable one. Already in my beach attire, a draught blew across the sea sweeping away with it my spirit. The sun split its way through the scattered cumulus clouds as if it was shying away from giving some light. As I took in a breath of fresh air, my nose was tingled by the smell of the salty sea. A mine field of corals made up the beach sand, with an abundance of multicolored sea shells. A bed of blankets was however formed by the sand at the same time. Like my previous visit, this visit was promising to be one filled with immense joy and relaxation.

My heart somehow pounded like a drum-set of an orchestra from the way the beach sand flowed onto my feet and tickled my toes. The feeling was delicate especially given that the sand grains were so fine it was almost impossible to see them through the human eye. The sea waves soothed me through a dulcet lullaby thus drawing me closer to them as I reminisced my childhood. It was like they were giving me an invitation with wide open arms. However, my feet would not oblige at this time because they were penetrated by the frigid waves. So, I just sat down with my head raised to the sky as I watched the sun stretch out and make its way across the sky.

The warm sun rays gradually glowed as minutes passed by, reaching down to me and giving me a shining streak of light as if to tell me, “Hey, hold my hand!” I received an immediate boost of excitement as the blazing light pierced through my cold skin. Tracing its way up the sky, the sun distributed its light to everything it could lay its sight on. Birds flying across the sky trying to claim it for themselves were singing sweet melodies with high spirits into my ears. From the sun rays, the sky turned into an illuminated shimmering blue color from a dark misty indigo one. The scattered rainless clouds that were initially blocking sun rays melted away into thin air and gave way for the water to heat up.

I slowly made my way to the edge of the beach once again and immersed my toe into the now swiftly heating up water. I hastily withdrew it as it felt like it was melting away into the sea in spite of having been numb before. The pungent smell that came from decayed algae filled the air and my acidic stomach responded by turning to its side. I could hear the sounds of fish that were possibly calling for attention from under the sea. I could at the same time tell that the fish were afraid of the sea creatures that were hungrily preying on smaller water creatures for lunch. This was a survival tactic, I could tell.

As the evening was drawing, people poured onto the beach to enjoy the serenity and perfect weather. Children ran up and down as laughter filled up every corner of the beach and people even played beach football and volleyball. The day was finally coming to an end and one by one, people started leaving slowly after what had been a day full of excitement. It was unfortunate that as much as I had wanted to continue staying on the beach and continue undergoing this memorable experience, my turn to go home finally came. I left with a heart filled with happiness and peace and a tired body and promised myself that I would go back there as many times as I would be able to.

Instructions; Write an essay of 2 double-spaced pages which achieves two goals:

Discuss what your ideal beach might look like. What would your ideal beach look like? What elements would it include? Consider things such as the physical environment, the social atmosphere, the socio-cultural composition, availability of services, population (or absence thereof), quality of the water or surf, location, climate, political composition, language, ethnicity, or any other quality you might consider important. Answered on top

Some ideas for THEME. This is a suggestive list.

Design your ideal beach. This beach might draw on elements of existing beaches or be entirely fictional.

Explore some of the interesting descriptive topics that wll give you brilliant ideas.

Essay about the Beach

Diamond beach is what most people would call “a little paradise or a piece of heaven on earth.” The spectacular, flawless white beach stretches with no limit for the eye as it goes across the ocean so amazingly. Just by gazing at the endless sands, as the sun’s rays rest on the waters freshly emerging from their resting place, anyone would be astounded by the beauty of nature. The clouds timidly exposed as the sky beams blue making it obvious that this would be a beautiful day. It is not hard to hear the ocean whisper its promises for the day due to the serenity of diamond, as the graceful sounds of songbirds light up the morning mood. The reigning feeling is that of a soothing calmness that makes life difficult for an iota of gloom. Nature seems to be passing across the message that a great day filled with happiness and devoid of mishaps should be expected.

The smell of fresh air taking you away from all the hustles and bustles of a polluted environment in an ordinary day is nothing you would want to miss. In a world where air pollution has become so rampant, I believe allowing everyone to experience the fresh breeze would be a great lesson for conserving our ecosystem. The freshness and tranquility of the atmosphere at Diamond beach defines a habitable ecosystem that every living thing deserves to experience. Being at this beach makes you appreciate that this world is truly a beautiful place. You forget all your worries as your mind sinks into the serenity making you want to live forever. It is one place that reminds us to appreciate life and conserves the beauty of nature. It directly talks to us to acknowledge that life does not have to be first-paced all the time. It makes the importance of taking time off to real and unwind become so real and necessary.

Diamond beach is a rare and precious place to be. I know millions of beaches exist globally, but none is like the diamond beach. The light kisses from the coastal breeze, the smell freshness, the purity of the sand, and the crimson beauty of water is out of this world. Regardless of whichever angle you may view the beach from, you will not miss noticing the splendor of this natural feature. Every step in the beach leaves fine-grained sand shifting as if paving the way for the next step you take. With every motion forward, you feel like you are walking on freshly fallen snow. The only difference is that the crystalline white blanket bequeathed by the winter normally is cold but on the beach, it is warm thanks to the sun rays.

During the day, you cannot fail to notice a change in the cute sand particles as they form a golden reflection from the sun. It appears as if the sun rays are trapped inside the unmelting sand crystals forming the beautiful yellow golden color. Interestingly, upon picking the sand gravels, they rest on your palm like diamond crystals illuminating a white color between your fingers. Despite the midday heat, being at the beach at this time is an opportunity to witness its brightness entirely. The fact that it is conserved as a private beach adds to its numerous advantages and lessens congestion giving everyone a chance to connect with nature undisturbed. It is almost impossible not to notice the ocean at this point of the day. It waves curl up and down, rolling in white tipped shapes, spreading like fine silky laces over the beach. The way they softly crash on the beach or violently splash their waters overboard is simply stunning. The gentle sound that emanates from their contact with the beach makes the feeling even more fulfilling.

If the ocean were a person, I would describe it in many ways. It would be at one point introverted, calm, still, graceful but at another point extroverted, throwing waves aggressively, outgoing and interactive. The behavior of the ocean cannot be described as noisy despite all the commotion that appears to be going on. Only slight wave sounds that a keen soul would hear. I think the ocean has many secrets it would share with people if it could talk. For me, its silent sounds take me back to a time of reflecting and appreciating life. They give new meaning to life. With every turn of the wave that comes and goes, I remember we are all passing by in this world, and the best thing to do is appreciate what we have, before the next wave takes over. For a moment, I am lost in thoughts when a palm leaf drops on my silky dress and brings me back to reality.

It is almost impossible to go on discussing diamond without describing the splendid physical environment that surrounds the beach. The physical environment of the beach is superb. The first thing that I notice as I focus my attention on the beach is the relaxation mood. People from all age groups can be seen on beach seats with colorful costumes and fluffy towels. I guess they are just from enjoying a swim. On that note, I should not forget to state that lovers of swimming will enjoy being in Diamond. The water temperature is never hot or cold but perfect for a swim. Small adorable children in white costumes appear like angels creating sand castles as others run across to float kites on the cool breeze. The teens are frolicking with beach balls having a time of their lives as the young adults cuddle, hold hands, and share special moments while taking a walk along the shoreline.

A few meters away a particular group of people can be seen excluded for religious reasons. As I draw my focus to that group, I realize that they are having an outdoor yoga class. What a great place to connect with your internal senses and spirituality. Diamond is definitely the place to be for yoga especially during morning or evening hours. There is little interruption and the silence is just what you need. Upon inquiring from one of the yoga instructors, I am told that the classes have been going on for a while in the same spot. According to the instructor, people have found peace in their lives since they started visiting Diamond beach for yoga. If you love yoga, you have found a recreation and a spiritual connection site.

Diamond beach stands out in the Caribbean Island of modern beach houses giving the inhabitants a panoramic ocean view. The mastermind behind the exterior was Chad while Davis studio aided with the interior and Enzo the landscaping to give an elegant piece of artwork. The prowess and architectural expertise is incredible as everyone who walks to the beach never fails to notice the splendor. Attractive colors that allow calm and light are a perfect complement to the beach which is bright during the day. The Hi-tech beach houses which have been designed in the latest architectural designs are similar, all having balconies facing the sandy beach. From the balcony, you enjoy seeing the spectacular ocean view as lounges of water cover up the entire place. Those living or visiting Diamond enjoy beautiful weather which cannot be described as sunny or humid. It is just perfect.

Serving the visitors, tourists, and locals in the beach is the Diamond hotel. It’s shaped like a diamond and is an exquisite place to be if you plan to spend a few days on the beach and do not live nearby. They offer great room services and maintain a high level of hygiene and cleanliness with excellent customer care services. The rooms are ample and spacious with perfect temperatures and an excellent view of the beach. You get to enjoy free internet connection, music system, and laptops for use while you enjoy visiting the beach. The rates are cost-friendly as the hotel packages cater for people from all age groups. If you have toddlers, you should not worry as there are special cots and nurses to attend to children. If you have special needs, the staircase and special rooms have been modified to meet them. The reception, ambiance, and hospitality of the hotel will make you stay longer. Recreational activities are available with a fully-serviced gym for fitness, spa, massage, and beauty parlor to make you gorgeous as you go out. Besides the remarkable fitness and beauty services, there are spectacular mouthwatering and finger-licking delicacies to choose from. The food is freshly served upon placing an order while alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks are also in plenty. In general thus, visiting Diamond beach is a memorable and magnificent experience. Getting a chance to interact with the lovely, friendly Caribbean people and share in their rich dance culture could even make you want to change your nationality.

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Home — Essay Samples — Geography & Travel — Beach — Descriptive A Visit To The Beach

About The Beach: My Happiest Place

Categories: Beach My Favorite Place

About this sample

Words: 792 |

Published: Jan 28, 2021

Words: 792 | Pages: 2 | 4 min read

Works Cited:

American Psychological Association. (2020). Publication manual of the American Psychological Association (7th ed.).
Gallo, C. (2014). Talk like TED: The 9 public-speaking secrets of the world’s top minds. St. Martin’s Griffin.
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O'Hair, D., Stewart, R. A., & Rubenstein, H. (2015). A speaker's guidebook: Text and reference. Bedford/St. Martin's.
Velasquez, L. (2013, December). How do you define yourself? [Video file]. TEDx Talks. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c62Aqdlzvqk
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Description of a beach

The enclosed beach is silent. The sun is blinding at it emerges; it rises like a yellow balloon on the distant horizon. As the sun gradually starts to appear, a new day unfolds. As the gentle waves lap against the shore, a shoal of crowded fish dart to and frow. Seagulls swoop down from the sky determined to catch there unsuspecting prey. The never ending golden sand stretches out as far as you can see, waiting patiently for people to leave there mark.

The silent echo of the lifeless sea is startling as the day begins; it was almost as if it had sucked out the souls of the nearby creatures. The relaxing atmosphere slowly starts to ease the mind, a gentle sea breeze rustles through the leaves of nearby palm trees waking small birds from their slumber. The beach is abandoned, nothing there apart from a few seagulls pecking at yesterdays leftovers, excited about what today might bring. Empty crisp rappers and cans scatter the heavenly sand leaving a death trap for any living creature.

When the sun shines bright, young children start to appear stumbling onto the moist sand with buckets and spades ready to cover the entire beach in sandcastles. Shopkeepers prepare themselves for the busy day ahead by displaying their merchandise on the pavements to attract the bustling customers. Buckets and spades adorn the shop windows and children captivated by the bright colours rushing to spend every single penny of their pocket money.

This is a preview of the whole essay

The golden blanket was outlining the silvery sea, a pod of large grey dolphins leaped out of the water showing off to each other. Dancing from one place to the next, it was breathtaking. Every movement of the dolphins was picture perfect, the way they glistened in the sunlight and revealed that welcoming and beautiful smile.

Rows of freshly painted beach huts stand proudly side by side; like soldiers on parade. Each one resembling a different colour of the rainbow. The huts are a welcome retreat from the relentlessly scorching sun and families enjoy the cooling shade that differs ever so greatly from the burning heat.

The promenade is adorned in old fashion striped deck chairs, chosen by the elderly as a shelter from the sweltering sun. Without a care in the world they chat amongst themselves reminiscing about their childhood holidays, each story as interesting at the next.

As the sun gradually starts to disappear, nightfall arrives. This signifies that the day is drawing to a close. The happy sounds of laughter that once was there echoes around the empty beach. The gloomy shadow of dusk descends over the sea. Feeble light from the few remaining streetlights appear to dim as the night clouds roll in. Birds silence their song and flee to the safety of their nests. Sandcastles are washed away with the seawater by the changing direction of the tide.

Any last remaining footsteps disappear, and are buried beneath the sand. The wind plays with the scattered rubbish tossing it around in the air like a tornado but then quickly releasing it again. It was once again a perfect end to a perfect day.

Document Details

Author Type Student
Word Count 520
Page Count 1
Subject English
Type of work Controlled assessment

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