A lonely gull, circles over a certain spot in the sea, quite a distance away. It screeches, and can only just be heard above the roar of the surf as it breaks against the rocks. The vast waters breath and claim all that lies on its shoreline, commiting it to its watery depths. Each fragment of rock, knows its place as sand. Tiny rock pools, shaded from the fierce sun, are filled with creatures, plants salt. Tiny crabs scuttle in their strange side-ways manner from under one pebble, to another. Transparant water creatures mover their bodies to mimic the ripples on the surface. The vast, open wasteland, stretches, thin, yet long. If it were not for the sea and its occupants, this would be completely vacant. No human soul treads along here, for if they did, all trace would soon be banished by the overseer, in its gentle, ebbing sighs.
This wind has not forgotton this place, for it plays with the weeping branches and leaves of the fruit bearing bark. It caresses the surface of the pools, gently displacing it. In a quick flurry some sand is snatched up and twirled into another position, as if it were a gentle ballerina, and the wind, her partner. The wind strengthens as it bids to annoy the hefty grandour of the briney liquid, and buffets it against the rocks. The sea angers and the wind strengthens, the both crash into the grey, protruding masts, throwing all their might into them, then collapsing in a frenzy of white fam, only to rear up again. One can see clearly where the shadows define themselves from the sun, where the growth of land based organisms begins.
The life-giver shows its true side here, the anger, frustration and danger, in contrast to its peaceful, rocking breaths, as they rise and fall, leaving small, foamy residues of its passing anger, in its wake.
Not a soul breaths with the sea, not a single motion, only those prompted by the wind. The same scene stretches on for miles around each side of the island. Once in a while, one may come across the old ruins of the lord, who once owned and protected these shores. One could once hear the songs and jovilities of his men. Now, one only hears the howl of the wind as it passes through and around the felled stone tablets. One may also hear the squeal of the land animals, yet none shall venture onto the hot plains betwixt them and the ‘giver and taker’ of lives.
To take a walk along this, such beach, would be futile. Either the sea, or insanity will claim you> For no company shall adorn your sides, only thoughts. This stretch is infinite and one is sure to find an even greater evil on the other side. Walk, my friend, think and succumb. For that is all one can do on such an island as this.
Descriptive Essay – A deserted beach
Section B, English Paper
Teacher’s comment – Amazing! 53
53 out f 54 which is an A*