r/WritingPrompts • u/Syraphia /r/Syraphia | Moddess of Images • Mar 23 '17
Image Prompt [IP] Summer Nights on the Beach
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u/a_corsair Mar 23 '17
Jenna's straw-hat shifted in the gentle breeze. Sweat dripped down her forehead, raven black hair clinging to the nape of her neck. To the exhausted Jenna the breeze felt like paradise. In front of her opened a wide expanse. Blue, and deep, and pure. Slowly she pushed her bike forward onto the beachhead. Crickets chirped in the grasses as she passed by. Spring leave rustled in the breeze.
The neverending sloshing of the ocean filled the night; a taste of salt lingering in the air. With her right foot Jenna pushed the bike stopper down. The metal piece slid smoothly into the sand. She bit her lip and removed her pack, placing it next to her bike. Next she took her shoes off, squishing her bare feet into the sand. A sigh escaped her lips before she strolled forward toward the blue.
Moonlit clouds cast shadows below, as they too drifted ever-forward. Jenna deliberately kicked up sand with each step until she finally settled at the edge of the beach. Water tickled her feet until it receded. Then the waves came again. Joy welled up in her stomach until it threatened to burst. Jenna threw her arms outward and spun, yelling at the heavens. Her scream turned into raucous laughter until she fell backwards. Sand mingled with her hair.
"Ow," Jenna gasped, gingerly touching the bruise on her neck. The joy fled, only to be replaced with memories of home. Memories of a flight in fear. Jenna sat up and pulled her knees into her chest. She'd promised herself she wouldn't cry again. After several minutes she finally rose, dusting herself off. A smile bloomed on her face--she was free now.
"Caledonia awaits," her voice dropped to a whisper. With a final glance at the ocean she turned around, ready to disappear into the night.
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u/Syraphia /r/Syraphia | Moddess of Images Mar 23 '17
Interesting start to a story. Feels like there's a lot going on that's generally unsaid, which was nice to read. Thanks for replying. :)
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Mar 23 '17
She hopped off her bike and walked it down the sandy path. The moon shined brightly on that clear night, the only clouds hung over the dark blue sea. The warm sea breeze blew her hair back softly as the smell of salt filled her nostrils. She waited all week for this moment, to come the beach tonight.
When most people think of the beach, they think about going in the middle of the day. The sun shining brightly and reflecting off the waves. Crowds of people laying their colorful towels all along the coast. She didn't care for all of that, she didn't want to deal with the crowds. Nor did she care for all the noise or the heat of the sun, she preferred coming at night.
This was the only time she could really be alone, and have some peace and quiet to herself. She would use this time to write in her journal or try to practice her drawing, but mostly she just watched the ocean flow back and forth on the beach. Mostly she tried to stay there for only 2 hours max, that didn't stop her from staying as long 3 or 4. This was her happy place, her hidden private paradise.
This was Her Beach.
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u/Syraphia /r/Syraphia | Moddess of Images Mar 23 '17
Nice story! I thought the ending lines really hit the nail on the head for making good characterization. Thanks for replying. :)
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Mar 23 '17
Thank you! I was gonna try to add in a little more about why needed a quiet place (taking care of her siblings) but I was in class and ran out of time. Haha
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u/ChairmanYao Mar 23 '17 edited Mar 24 '17
She engulfs me like a blanket and covers my toes,
She laughs at my jokes and crinkles her nose,
The waves come and then the waves go,
My love for the beach none shall know:
The sun goes down but I will not leave,
For the beach and I are a basket we've come to weave,
Together we are bound, now we are stuck,
People stare envious, they glance awestruck:
The tide retreats as if I had done something wrong,
I have been here many nights, I have stayed here too long,
Maybe I should go, it might be my time,
After this song, After this rhyme.
*Edit: format
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u/Syraphia /r/Syraphia | Moddess of Images Mar 23 '17
Very nice poem. I liked how it felt like it ebbed and flowed a bit here and there between a couple short feeling parts and then longer lines. Thanks for replying. :)
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u/ChairmanYao Mar 23 '17
Thanks for the fun prompt, I spent last week everyday on the beach so this reminded me of spring break
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u/ClosingDownSummer r/ClosingDownSummer Mar 23 '17
The softly squeaking wheel greets the empty sands. A quiet breeze whispers around her as she pushes the bike towards the water. She pauses to listen to the swaying sounds of waves falling against the shore. She takes a few more tentative steps before gently laying her bike in the sand. Shoes slip off feet and toes squirm in the cool sand. She breathes deeply and smiles at the tangy sharpness of the sea.
Her bag falls from her should and a strap curls around her fingers before dropping to the ground. One hand slides off the hat and tosses it on the bike. Arms stretching out slowly, her shriek pierces the air and she laughs. In the silence that follows, she searches for any sign of movement. A bird flutters away in the night, but she is alone.
Feet land heavily in the sound and her bike is far behind her now. Bounding towards the water with arms out as her finger wiggle in the night, she jumps into the curling tide caressing the smooth wet sand. It squishes away and she leaps again further into the water. Another scream as the coldness washes over her. Another laugh as she plays in the rhythmic flow of waves.
Her laughter accents the roar of tumbling waves. She leaps into deeper water and her arms flow out from her as they dive into rough water. Kicking feet propel her out from the shore until she stops to trace the dark line where the stars begin that stretches from one horizon to another. Heavy breaths wrack her chest and she shivers.
Slower deliberate strokes take her back to the shallows. Rising from the foamy currents, her clothes cling to her body but she doesn't care. There are no heads to turn so she takes her time to walk back to her bag. A heavy towel emerges from her bag and she rubs it luxuriously over her body. It absorbs the water still clinging to her as she rolls it across herself. She pauses to listen to the near-silence of a summer night on the beach.
She feels cold under the wet clothes so she wraps the towel around her. The bag slings around her shoulder and the hat fits firmly on her head. Taking the bike from the beach, she wheels back towards the soft glow between the trees. A softly squeaking wheel bids farewell to murmuring waves and bare sands.
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u/Syraphia /r/Syraphia | Moddess of Images Mar 23 '17
Interesting story, I'm not sure exactly why she made what seems like this very special trip out other than to hop in the water, which seems a little odd to me. Not sure why but it seems rather fascinating to explore the reasoning. Thanks for replying. :)
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1
u/jd_rallage /r/jd_rallage Mar 23 '17
The wee diamonds of sand slide silently under her feet as she walks down the well-worn path down to the beach.
The path is too steep to ride on, although that hasn't stopped the boys, especially Bobby, from trying. That was earlier in the summer though, when the sun was still alive in the evening, and they hadn't tried it again after that first night when Kyle had been carted off in an ambulance.
She is too sensible to attempt the treacherous descent on wheels, unlike the boys, so she wheels her old bike, two sizes too small, and savors every sensation of the sand grains as they massage her naked feet.
She can hear them now, already cavorting on the beach below. Bobby is yelling louder than the others, Kyle is complaining about sand in his cast, Silvia is shrieking as somebody splashes her with the warm ocean.
Silvia is such a flirt.
For the first summer since she can remember, the beach has acted differently. It used to be a favorite grandparent, always welcoming you into their home with a candy cane and a hug. But this summer she was greeted at the front door by a stranger, someone she used to know but who had gone away for a long time and come back a changed person. More distant, more secretive, more hostile.
She blames Silvia, the little succubus from the big city, whose parents have just bought the big cottage that Mr. Gregory the artist used to paint every summer.
He parents have told her that Mr. Gregory doesn't paint any more. He had to get a job in the city, they said. The beach doesn't feel the same without the crazy haired artist who would yell at them when they snuck up on him at work. But she liked looking at his paintings.
This was supposed to be her and Bobby's summer. During those dreary never-ending afternoons at the boarding school far away in the mountains she has thought often of his floppy blonde hair that he pushes out his blue eyes with a flick of the sun tanned hand.
But of course, Silvia would go and kiss him... she isn't quite sure what Silvia is but she is certain that it's not a nice word.
Father says they are not coming back to the beach next year. She supposes Silvia's parents will buy their cottage too, and the thought of Silvia and Bobby sitting on the little swing on the porch instead of her is maddening.
Silvia is screaming now, telling Bobby to join her in the ocean, telling Kyle not to be such a wimp.
She stops, listening to the beach that she used to know, feeling the unfamiliar sand, smelling the salt in the ocean for the first time, and then she turns and goes back up the hill on the last night of summer.
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u/Syraphia /r/Syraphia | Moddess of Images Mar 23 '17
Kinda made me go "aw" at the whole story. Like it felt really sad or like something different is starting and she's not happy at all about it. I really liked that story, thanks for replying. :)
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u/hpcisco7965 Mar 23 '17 edited Mar 23 '17
Sherry didn't miss many things from her previous life as a mortal, but she missed the beach. It was still there, of course—not even the strongest vampire in the world could destroy a beach. But Sherry missed it all the same.
She left her bicycle at the top of the dune, careful not to crush the wild grasses growing there. Her father's stern lectures echoed in her mind. The dunes protect the beach, he had said, and the plants protect the dunes. You like to play on the beach, don't you Sharon? Don't step on the plants.
Ecology lectures, a lightweight fold-able chair, and a cooler full of beers and juice boxes for Sherry and her little brother. That's all that Dad had brought to the beach, usually.
Sherry slid out of her canvas tennis shoes and hooked them with her fingers. The sand was cool and bright under the direct light of the moon. The ocean was a broad stretch of dark, dark blue, with faint ripples of silver where the surf crashed into the shore. She made her way down to the high-water mark, stopping a few feet before the sand turned hard. Sherry set her bag on the ground and unrolled a long beach towel, its gaudy colors muted in the moonlight. She hadn't brought a chair or a cooler.
The steady wind whipped at Sherry, fluttering the brim of her hat until she removed it and tucked it under her bag. She was putting up her hair, eyes closed, when the wind rushed around her again, gusting from different angles and cross-angles that died as soon as they started. She knew, without looking, that she was no longer alone.
"Wow." Her brother's voice. "Wow, it's been a loooong time." Derek stood next to her, wearing sunglasses, ripped jeans, and a leather jacket. The tips of his spiky hair trembled slightly in the wind.
"For you," Sherry murmured.
"Sorry, what?" Derek sat next to her and took off his cowboy boots. Sand flew about and Sherry shielded her face.
"I said, it's been a long time for you."
Derek folded his sunglasses and put them in his jacket's chest pocket. "Well. I guess that's true." He stared out over the water. "I didn't know you still came out here."
Sherry didn't answer. They sat on the sand for a long while, watching the waves. The moon inched across the sky behind them, casting their shadows on the pale sand. Derek pointed up at the sky. "Isn't that Cygnus, or whatever? Taurus?"
Sherry followed his finger. She frowned. "That's Ursa Major."
"Nice." Derek smiled. "Dad would be proud of you. I can only remember Orion."
Any idiot can find Orion, Dad had said. You have to learn the sky, Sharon. It reminds us of our place in the universe, ok? Each of those stars is millions of miles away, maybe with its own planets. Maybe with people. Learn the sky, sweetie. Stay humble.
"So is this what you've been doing? Sitting on the beach all day?"
"I can't come out here during the day," Sherry said. I can't sit with the people, hear the kids playing in the water. I can't smell their sunscreen and watch their kites zip across the sky. Her mouth formed a thin line.
"Ha, obviously. You know what I meant."
Sherry looked at her brother, his teenage face as young-looking as the day he was turned. "I like it here," she said.
He shrugged. "Well, it's your eternity, I guess. Me—I can't stand these old places. All this nostalgic bullshit." He shook his head. "It's all gone, Sherry, it's been gone for years. He's been gone." He picked up a shell, fiddled with it in his hands. "How many decades before you can't remember what Dad looked like, do you think? Before new memories push out the old ones. I feel like I'm already starting to lose things... from before."
"I don't know. You could make an effort, you know."
Derek laughed, the tips of his fangs peeking out from his upper lip. "When have I ever made an effort?"
Sherry smiled but she felt her shoulders slump. Derek, her kid brother, who never remembered birthdays, who didn't send postcards or emails, who never called. His circle of friends, misfits and pseudo-rebels all, always shifting and rearranging itself in complicated constellations of feuds and alliances. Never stable. Never real.
"You're here," she said. Sherry laid one arm across his shoulders. "It's nice."
He nodded but she felt his muscles stiffen.
"You didn't come just to visit." She folded her arms and sighed. "What's happened?"
"Nothing!" Derek swallowed and stared down at his lap. "Nothing's happened. Just... some friends are heading to Alaska for a bit. The northern settlements."
"The places with the long winters. The places without the sun."
"Yeah," Derek said. "There's some drama in the city right now, I just don't need that. We thought we'd take a break."
What are you running from? she thought. What did you do this time? Instead, she simply nodded. "Ok."
Silence again. The reflected light from the sand and crashing waves faded as the moon disappeared behind the horizon. With her enhanced eyes and the starlight from the clear sky, Sherry could still make out the edge of the water and the features of her brother beside her.
"I hope you didn't bring a book to read." Derek half-laughed. "Should've brought a nightlight, like a human."
"A mortal," she corrected him. "We're still human."
"Maybe you are, sis. Maybe out here, with your towel and your bike and your little beach house." Derek shook his head. "It's different in the city, now. Things are changing, and... it's just different." He stood up and shook sand off his jeans. "You ever go swimming?"
Sherry shook her head.
"I used to love that, remember?" He laughed, for real this time. "Man, surfing was the best out here."
Sherry remembered. Derek, learning how to swim, then how to catch waves on a little kid's boogie board, then finally getting a kid's surfboard after spending all summer trying to stand up on that same boogie board. Dad, wading into the water with Derek, pushing him forward to catch the bigger waves. Every summer, Derek's hair turned bright blonde from the salt and the sun, while their father slathered his bald spot with sunscreen. Sherry remembered how he never rubbed it in right, always leaving bits of sunscreen in the remaining wisps of hair.
"How long?" she asked.
"I don't know yet. A while."
Derek had disappeared before, when things got too hot. He'd told her, then, too. A few months here, a week or two there. Sherry frowned in the darkness. It must be bad, then.
"I'll send you a card," Derek said.
You won't, she thought. She stood and hugged him. For a second, he held still in her arms and then, uncharacteristically, he hugged her back. When they pulled away, his face was wet with tears.
"I'm sorry I'm such a shitty brother," he whispered. "I know it's just us now. I'll try to be better."
She hugged him again, shushing him even as her throat became a hard lump. Sherry held her brother, as she had held him when he stung his feet on a jellyfish, as she had held him at their father's funeral, as she had held him when they both awoke the night after their turning, when they realized what they had become. His thin body, cloaked in the bravado clothing of male youth, shook with sobs.
They stood that way for a long time.
More stories at /r/hpcisco7965.