Sean
Fallen
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2009
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Forbidden Shores
I awoke, in the hot summer sun, I could feel the gritty sand pressing against my face as I tried to come to my senses. The air was hot, thick and humid. The breeze from the ocean blew over my naked back, cooling me just a bit. My feet were laying in the wet brownish sand, with the cold water hitting them as the waves came crashing in. I pressed my hands down, and dug into the sand, pushing myself upward to my feet. In front of me was a small dune which stretched all the way out to the ends of the beach. The dune had patches of sea oat and sea grass along the ridge and top of it. The dune was only a few feet tall, easy to climb over. There were no houses, no taverns or walk ways lantern posts, it was as if there was no civilization here. Turning to face the ocean, I noticed intertwined seaweed that had washed up into the shore, some had fully washed onto the sand as others lay floating in the shallow parts of the ocean. As I stood up straight and looked out at the ocean, the bright sun hit my eyes, and I moved my hand in front of them to protect them until they adapted to the brightness. I moved slowly along the hot sandy shore, I took a deep breath of the salty sea air, working my way to a lump in the sand. Using my hands I moved the sand away, digging like a mad dog, for a clue as to where I was. I reached a hard, wooden texture feel deep in the sand, I reached both my arms down, grabbing it from it's bottom and pulling it up. A treasure chest, about an arm's length now lay in front of me, I brushed the remaining the sand off of it's top. I pushed it open, and in it was a small wrinkled note. With one single phrase written on it "8-18-08", but the year was 1653.
Author Notes: Umm... no the story is not describing the picture, the picture is not mine I don't even remember where I found the picture from. But usually, when I write small stories like these or poems I have them from thoughts, about places like these. Places like these, put mystery into the world, when there's mystery, there's questions. Everybody knows questions are always a good thing, it keeps you thinking about what you think is real or not. Hope you enjoyed this, just made/wrote it for fun and because I was thinking about it.
I awoke, in the hot summer sun, I could feel the gritty sand pressing against my face as I tried to come to my senses. The air was hot, thick and humid. The breeze from the ocean blew over my naked back, cooling me just a bit. My feet were laying in the wet brownish sand, with the cold water hitting them as the waves came crashing in. I pressed my hands down, and dug into the sand, pushing myself upward to my feet. In front of me was a small dune which stretched all the way out to the ends of the beach. The dune had patches of sea oat and sea grass along the ridge and top of it. The dune was only a few feet tall, easy to climb over. There were no houses, no taverns or walk ways lantern posts, it was as if there was no civilization here. Turning to face the ocean, I noticed intertwined seaweed that had washed up into the shore, some had fully washed onto the sand as others lay floating in the shallow parts of the ocean. As I stood up straight and looked out at the ocean, the bright sun hit my eyes, and I moved my hand in front of them to protect them until they adapted to the brightness. I moved slowly along the hot sandy shore, I took a deep breath of the salty sea air, working my way to a lump in the sand. Using my hands I moved the sand away, digging like a mad dog, for a clue as to where I was. I reached a hard, wooden texture feel deep in the sand, I reached both my arms down, grabbing it from it's bottom and pulling it up. A treasure chest, about an arm's length now lay in front of me, I brushed the remaining the sand off of it's top. I pushed it open, and in it was a small wrinkled note. With one single phrase written on it "8-18-08", but the year was 1653.
Author Notes: Umm... no the story is not describing the picture, the picture is not mine I don't even remember where I found the picture from. But usually, when I write small stories like these or poems I have them from thoughts, about places like these. Places like these, put mystery into the world, when there's mystery, there's questions. Everybody knows questions are always a good thing, it keeps you thinking about what you think is real or not. Hope you enjoyed this, just made/wrote it for fun and because I was thinking about it.
