The Beach

Hey Guys Aliyah here! So this is just a short story I wrote up for an assignment I had but it turned out pretty cool {I think?lol} so if you could just thumbs up it if you enjoyed or even if you didn’t but you read it, I’d be really really happy. lemme know in the comments if you’d like to see a part 2 to this story too, because I’m not sure if I will but if you guys want more then I guess I’ll just have to write more! lolwink ok ok I can hear you screaming “STOP STOP I WANNA HEAR THE STORY!!” ok I’ll stop droning on now. here goes…

It has been eight years since I have felt such terror and panic. I was at the beach, hunting for seashells by the water’s edge one hot summer’s day. I knew that I was close to the water but, thanks to countless warnings from both my mum and my dad, I had no intention of going in for a swim. I kept hunting for shells. After a while I got hot, and decided to wade into the shallows to cool off. As soon as I waded into the cool water I felt instantly better. I also discovered that there were many more varieties of shell underwater. A grey top caught my eye. I was purple grey and not very big. I noticed however that it was farther out from the beach, but from where I was standing it didn’t look too far. I headed over. Wading turned to paddling. About halfway I realised that there were bigger, nicer shells even farther out. at this point I hesitated. Having strayed so far from the shallows, I didn’t think swimming out a little farther would be that much of a big deal, but something told me not to go any farther, to swim back to the safety of the beach. I stood up the water was now almost up to my neck. The beach was still in sight. For a long moment I stood there, gazing at the beach, wondering what to do. I could go against the warnings of my parents and swim out in search of the rarest seashells or I could keep the shells already filling my pockets, and swim back to shore. I was almost at the point of turning back, swimming back to the beach and my parents, but I reasoned that since I had come this far, it would be a waste to turn back now. So, with my pockets now full of shells and pebbles, I swam out to sea. There were lots of shells and rocks now, many of them half buried in sand. I was getting tired now, stopping to rest every five minutes or so. I could still touch the sea floor. A few minutes later I stopped swimming and came to stand on the the sea floor to rest, but I soon realised that instead of gently sloping down like normal, the sea bottom came to an abrupt end, like an underwater cliff, and I was now floating above thousands of feet of open sea. Panic gripped me. I looked back in the direction of the beach, but by now I had gone so far I could no longer see my parents. But, stupid though I’d been, I knew that panicking out in open sea with pockets full of heavy shells and rocks, would do me no good. I stopped to consider my options. Carry on shell hunting and wait for someone to find me? No. It might be hours before they found me and I couldn’t dive deep enough to find any more shells. Yell, scream, splash around and hope someone would hear me? No. I was too tired and too far for anyone to hear me. While I was thinking, one of the bigger shells fell out of my pocket and started falling down, down to the bottom of the sea. I hesitated for just a moment before diving down after it. I dived as I had never dived before, knowing that if I didn’t catch my shell soon it would sink down to the bottom of the sea and I would lose it forever. I dived deeper. At one point I thought that I was close enough to grab it, so I stuck out my arm in front of me but I was just too far. The shell remained tantalizingly out of reach.

“Just a little longer”, I told myself.

I wanted my shell, but now I could feel the pressure building in my ears and I was running out of air fast. I took one last look at my sinking shell and started swimming back up to the surface. Only then did I realise how far down I’d gone, and how much strength it was going to take to reach the surface. I swam with all my strength in a desperate attempt to reach the surface and air. I was exhausted. My lungs were screaming for air and felt like they were going to burst at any moment. I realised I would not make it to surface. To air. to life. I thought I heard a motorboat engine but I didn’t think they would find me. Gathering every ounce of strength left in my body, I made one last attempt to reach the surface. I almost reached but I was too weak to try again. I gave up. It was hopeless. Suddenly my head felt light. No more terror. No more panic. I felt a strange calm come over me.

For a moment I wondered if this is what dying felt like, if I would really die out here.

Suddenly strong hands were pulling me up, up into the sweet air.

The moment had passed.

So, what d’ya think? Was it good? Did you bite all your nails off? Or did you fall off of you’re chair in anticipation? Are you banging your screen right now, yelling, “I WANT MORE! TELL ME MORE!!” No? Ah well, I enjoyed writing it anyways and if you liked it that much then ask for a Part 2! There’s some great storywriters on here so I’m not sure I’ll be able to compete so pleez pleez pleez PLEEZ tell me what I can do better, if it was too long whatevs, anything to make me a better writer and to give you a better read {if that even makes sense?} Bye for now guys!cool



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The Beach

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