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An empty silence sweeps across these sands. I walk this beach a couple of times a week, and haven't seen anyone in years. I suppose it's quite comforting knowing that I'm the only one who gets to appreciate its beauty, but at the same time a great shame. Ever since it was on the receiving end of heavy fire from Japan some time ago, it's been empty. It used to be quite the tourist resort, but everything was wiped out; nothing left but bloodstains and faint sounds of terror ringing in history. People have just wiped it from their memory, it now stands an empty podunk, still baring scars.
One building still stands, an old jetty; even when this beach was being fired upon it wasn't used, as the tide would wash in, the jetty would disappear under the ocean. Some say that's why it still stands today, as it was submerged while the beach was stormed. No one really knows how it still clings to life, but it does; decaying, rotting, but still it hangs on.
I remember when I was child, we would play on this beach often. We would camp just off the beach on some higher ground and tell stories of the ghosts that lurk this place, of the creatures that inhabit the jetty when it’s plunged underwater. We were all scared that something may actually happen, but carried on, embracing the fear of the unknown, and the dark past that haunts this place.
When the tide was high we would enter the jetty and see who was the last out before it was swallowed by the crashing waves. I think secretly we all wished that someone would get trapped and we'd have to save them, just so it many years time the ghost stories and fables that were retold over a crackling fire would have some truth to them, to create our own legends that would live on in this place long after we'd gone.
Evidently, all these years on the stories are lost and forgotten along with this place. Even my own memories defeat me; only the slight words linger on in my mind.
We all thought ghosts lived in that jetty. Each and every one of us swore we had heard voices from it, and to this day I truly don't know if I did. Lights flickering, distant screams, a presence that we could feel whenever we approached it.
But as you grow up you realise what is fairy tale and what isn't. All my friends are gone now, I'm just an old man striving to relive his youth. That innocence, that naivety, to believe that the jetty surviving these years was anything other than luck. When your imagination escapes you, you may as well be gone.
And still I walk. Hoping I can find belief in the dreams I once held, and like the jetty, I'm slowly sinking under...
One building still stands, an old jetty; even when this beach was being fired upon it wasn't used, as the tide would wash in, the jetty would disappear under the ocean. Some say that's why it still stands today, as it was submerged while the beach was stormed. No one really knows how it still clings to life, but it does; decaying, rotting, but still it hangs on.
I remember when I was child, we would play on this beach often. We would camp just off the beach on some higher ground and tell stories of the ghosts that lurk this place, of the creatures that inhabit the jetty when it’s plunged underwater. We were all scared that something may actually happen, but carried on, embracing the fear of the unknown, and the dark past that haunts this place.
When the tide was high we would enter the jetty and see who was the last out before it was swallowed by the crashing waves. I think secretly we all wished that someone would get trapped and we'd have to save them, just so it many years time the ghost stories and fables that were retold over a crackling fire would have some truth to them, to create our own legends that would live on in this place long after we'd gone.
Evidently, all these years on the stories are lost and forgotten along with this place. Even my own memories defeat me; only the slight words linger on in my mind.
We all thought ghosts lived in that jetty. Each and every one of us swore we had heard voices from it, and to this day I truly don't know if I did. Lights flickering, distant screams, a presence that we could feel whenever we approached it.
But as you grow up you realise what is fairy tale and what isn't. All my friends are gone now, I'm just an old man striving to relive his youth. That innocence, that naivety, to believe that the jetty surviving these years was anything other than luck. When your imagination escapes you, you may as well be gone.
And still I walk. Hoping I can find belief in the dreams I once held, and like the jetty, I'm slowly sinking under...
Short and so very, very sweet.
Go team.
Go team.
Short, sweet but a little sad. Lovely.
Yeah, what Glove said. There's no-one better in here when it comes to creating an atmosphere. I loved the whole setting and the way you gave the character an identity in just a short passage.
A bit of a non-story, but I have nothing against that because I like to write those too. All in all, a nice little piece of descriptive writing. Props to ya, Rick.
A bit of a non-story, but I have nothing against that because I like to write those too. All in all, a nice little piece of descriptive writing. Props to ya, Rick.
Another great Rickoss.
Atmospheric - as most of your writing is. Reading it, I was picturing the beach and the forlorn jetty. Yes, vivid and quite sad.
Very well written. Enjoyable piece.
Whoops edited now.
How did you amaze Rickoss?
Woah great Im amazed. Rickoss to win SSC30 this is just great.
An empty silence sweeps across these sands. I walk this beach a couple of times a week, and haven't seen anyone in years. I suppose it's quite comforting knowing that I'm the only one who gets to appreciate its beauty, but at the same time a great shame. Ever since it was on the receiving end of heavy fire from Japan some time ago, it's been empty. It used to be quite the tourist resort, but everything was wiped out; nothing left but bloodstains and faint sounds of terror ringing in history. People have just wiped it from their memory, it now stands an empty podunk, still baring scars.
One building still stands, an old jetty; even when this beach was being fired upon it wasn't used, as the tide would wash in, the jetty would disappear under the ocean. Some say that's why it still stands today, as it was submerged while the beach was stormed. No one really knows how it still clings to life, but it does; decaying, rotting, but still it hangs on.
I remember when I was child, we would play on this beach often. We would camp just off the beach on some higher ground and tell stories of the ghosts that lurk this place, of the creatures that inhabit the jetty when it’s plunged underwater. We were all scared that something may actually happen, but carried on, embracing the fear of the unknown, and the dark past that haunts this place.
When the tide was high we would enter the jetty and see who was the last out before it was swallowed by the crashing waves. I think secretly we all wished that someone would get trapped and we'd have to save them, just so it many years time the ghost stories and fables that were retold over a crackling fire would have some truth to them, to create our own legends that would live on in this place long after we'd gone.
Evidently, all these years on the stories are lost and forgotten along with this place. Even my own memories defeat me; only the slight words linger on in my mind.
We all thought ghosts lived in that jetty. Each and every one of us swore we had heard voices from it, and to this day I truly don't know if I did. Lights flickering, distant screams, a presence that we could feel whenever we approached it.
But as you grow up you realise what is fairy tale and what isn't. All my friends are gone now, I'm just an old man striving to relive his youth. That innocence, that naivety, to believe that the jetty surviving these years was anything other than luck. When your imagination escapes you, you may as well be gone.
And still I walk. Hoping I can find belief in the dreams I once held, and like the jetty, I'm slowly sinking under...
One building still stands, an old jetty; even when this beach was being fired upon it wasn't used, as the tide would wash in, the jetty would disappear under the ocean. Some say that's why it still stands today, as it was submerged while the beach was stormed. No one really knows how it still clings to life, but it does; decaying, rotting, but still it hangs on.
I remember when I was child, we would play on this beach often. We would camp just off the beach on some higher ground and tell stories of the ghosts that lurk this place, of the creatures that inhabit the jetty when it’s plunged underwater. We were all scared that something may actually happen, but carried on, embracing the fear of the unknown, and the dark past that haunts this place.
When the tide was high we would enter the jetty and see who was the last out before it was swallowed by the crashing waves. I think secretly we all wished that someone would get trapped and we'd have to save them, just so it many years time the ghost stories and fables that were retold over a crackling fire would have some truth to them, to create our own legends that would live on in this place long after we'd gone.
Evidently, all these years on the stories are lost and forgotten along with this place. Even my own memories defeat me; only the slight words linger on in my mind.
We all thought ghosts lived in that jetty. Each and every one of us swore we had heard voices from it, and to this day I truly don't know if I did. Lights flickering, distant screams, a presence that we could feel whenever we approached it.
But as you grow up you realise what is fairy tale and what isn't. All my friends are gone now, I'm just an old man striving to relive his youth. That innocence, that naivety, to believe that the jetty surviving these years was anything other than luck. When your imagination escapes you, you may as well be gone.
And still I walk. Hoping I can find belief in the dreams I once held, and like the jetty, I'm slowly sinking under...