The Storm
A storm brews above. People escape the beach, quickly grabbing their possessions as rain spits down on them. Music from cafes and fare rides come to a halt as their customers quickly disappear. The happy sounds of laughter echo around the empty beach. A gloomy shadow descends over the sea. Feeble light from the few surviving streetlights and lanterns appear to dim as the dark clouds move across the sky like a creeping spectre. Birds silence their song and flee to safer places. Sandcastles small motes, which surround them, now are filled with seawater, but not for long as its’ remains are quickly swept away by the wind. Any last remaining footsteps disappear, and are buried beneath the sand. The wind plays with and teases the scattered rubbish, picking it up then quickly releasing it again. People shelter in cars waiting for the storm to pass, their windscreen wipers furiously fighting against the increasingly powerful rain. Waves rage upon the sand, sending sand back and forth as they go. They crash against the sea wall, shooting upwards and spraying the abandoned cafes and shops. Yachts begin rocking with the waves they are, like a gymnast balancing on a beam, to fall any second. The pier as well fights against the drowning waves, as they attempt to bring it under the surface with them. Trees surrender at the battering wind, forcing leaves and branches to be torn off their trunks. A bird, usually so in control of its own destiny fights the beast as it toys with it playfully.
