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The Private Beach,by Sachin

The appearance of the island had changed altogether. Grey-coloured woods covered the surface. The sand was bright green and the sky above was oak-brown.
I wondered if my parents would ever find me. Sweat trickled down by angular cheek bones as I ambled slowly across the island, bewildered about the future. I squatted down beneath an oak tree and watched the vast blue canvas – the monster waves in the ocean died down and the chestnut-brown sky flashed into a TV-black darkness.
Lighting a modest fire with the stones, I reflected on the incident that occurred exactly 26 hours and 43 minutes ago. It was sweltering – the sun blazing in full glory. But now it was dark and stormy with lightning bolts darting through the fiery sky every few minutes – rain thrashing on my head and the deafening thunder echoing into my eardrums. Perhaps the monsoon season.
I watched an abominable snowman run past the bushy hedges, stampeding on stinging nettles, with eyes glowing with fear. Suddenly, I heard a sputtering voice whispering near the mountains, down by the huge caves. My heart pounded. I made a run for it.
I grabbed my lifejacket switched on the motor of the majestic-looking speedboat and set to sea. The tropical waves were bitter and with the rain flooding the boat it made the chance of survival decrease minute by minute.  I began to doze off knowing that by morning, I would drown or naturally die of starvation.
Don’t ask me how, by morning I was in a bed of rocks on some foreign beach. I read a sign but that didn’t decode anything to me. The sun’s rays blinded me.
“Ey laddie wa ya ‘ere?” shouted an elderly man wearing something like a red and green tartan kilt.
“I…I….I….”, I stuttered quietly.
“T’is a’rivate beach. Be off wif you….Now!” he bellowed as he gave me an evil pout and a devilish grimace. And off he gambolled towards his ancient cottage. The length up to the top of the cliff was ridiculously long.
I rummaged around my pockets, clutching scraps of worn out metal in my hand. I also used the bendy wire to twist all the pieces of metal together with the stones, creating a harness and grab-link hook. It took a long time, but I managed.

2 thoughts on “The Private Beach,by Sachin”

  1. Creativity Mrs W says:

    Wow Sachin – just Wow!
    This story is incredible! How did you find your inspiration? I loved reading every part of it. I even read the Scottish accent in my minds eye. Brilliant. I hope you are making a scrapbook of all your amazing writing! 🙂

  2. Sachin says:

    I guess it was just a story! Stories for me just pop in my head- they may just be sparked from a joke or even a sentence! 🙂

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