Young Writers Society

HI EVERYONE!!!!

Thankyou for looking at this!! I'm a newbie here, and I can honestly say that this is the first story I have ever submitted. Anywhere. ANYWHO, this one's called 'Seashells.' I'm not overly proud of it, but I'll let YOU, the honourable reader, be the judge of that. Well... Go wild, I guess. Peace xoxo

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A lone seagull crying out harmoniously. Clouds swirling amidst the gentle cerulean sky, like frothy cotton castles in an abyss of clear sea. The navy sea beyond her, eating the horizon, smooth as a mirror, only with the slight disturbances of the wildlife below, daring to break the surface and taste the sweet sea air above. And the caressing lullaby of the waves as they gently rolled over the perfectly polished pebbles, teasing them, subtly pulling them back to the world of the Deep. Nature’s Orchestra. For the small girl of about six or seven, perched on the rocks behind the pebble-stone beach, this was the most serendipitous moment of her short life. She breathed in the cool, salty air, letting it fill her nostrils and relax her once-worried little mind. If euphoria ever made its way to the South-West coast of England, it would look and feel just like that moment did for her. She let the atmosphere of the coastal paradise take her over, the unusually relaxed feeling within her seeping down to the ends of her fingertips.

Absolute peace and safety. The feeling of real, hectic life melting into the background. Nothing could take that away for her.

She delved into the deep pockets of her enourmous grey duffle coat, wrapped around her skinny body like a duvet of safety. Her slender hands slid delicately and lingered appreciatively over the tiny porcelain items residing in her pocket. She took in every smooth, unspoilt surface, every little fissure, and every curve of each beautifully- designed shell. Seashells, she believed, were by far the most underappreciated gems in the world- all the grandeur and mystique of diamonds, with the appreciation of little more than a dead flower.

The feeling of inner peace was momentarily shattered as the little girl’s right hand shot out of its warm little nook, smarting and throbbing alarmingly. The girl peered down at her hand piteously, as the memory of the searing cut, covered by a bloody bandage across her soft palm, came crashing back to her…

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The night pressed on as the little girl peered out of the window, perched on her cushioned windowsill. The view overlooked the whole bay, with its magestic cliffs and splendid deserted beach, stretching as far as the eye could see. By nightfall, though, the seemingly blissful seaside image took a much darker stance, with shadows stretching over the limestone giants and the sea become unruly and choppy.

The girl had laid out the fruits of her hard days treasure-hunting on the patchwork quilt covering her four-poster bed, in all shapes, sizes and opulent structures. But she had found the sapphire that really completed her collection of seaside jewels. Almost hidden to the naked eye among the grey pebbles, this shell was no bigger than the girl’s fist. But it was a real find- it had pearly sheen to it was almost shimmered in the sunlight, and its creamy-white exterior curled round to a perfect point at the centre, dappled with specks of brown and purple along the way.

But tonight that little shell would be her only solace, as she clutched it in her hand, waiting for the storm brewing on the horizon to finally erupt.

True to form, he swaggered up the steep cobblestone path to the front door, his movements disjointed, his face red with drink and rage. The threatening storm clouds from across the Irish Sea drew ever closer, blazing with mighty lightening strikes every now and then.

Her frightened grip tightened on the fragile shell.

The slam of a door. The deafening silence as any hustling and bustling beforehand ceased down below.

The storm clouds loomed over the grand cliffs now, creating long shadows on the cliffside, and the waves grew lager, choppier, more daunting. The cooling relief the shell’s flesh had against the girl’s hot palm dulled as her grip tightened once more.

The sound of worried muttering and drunken slurred speech as the two voices drifted into the room just below the girl’s bedroom.

The waves started, slowly but surely, breaking into white horses, as far as the horizon, and the thunder overhead started rumbling in a grumpy manner. The weak exterior of the shell was starting to bend ever so slightly under the surprisingly strong force of the little girl’s now shaking fist.

Suddenly, in a matter of minutes, what seemed like controlled, quiet discussion escalated into full-on shouting- one voice saturated with panic and alarm, the other rife with anger and aggression, with accusations flying everywhere.

Lightening struck the sea. Sheets of rain poured out of the heavens, and the wind moaned painfully against the windows. A resounding ‘clink!’ rang out from the precious shell, forming the first crack on a perfect surface.

China smashing. A fist banging a wooden table with considerable force.

Rain mixed with sleet, thunder and lightening, pounding against the roof of the house, while the waves lashed out on the venerable beach, thumping it with every breaking wave. More crackling sounded from the defenceless shell, as it became more and more deformed in her tight vice of a grip.

A slap.

A lightening bolt struck land, at one of the points of the cliff, not half a kilometre away. A searing pain ran up the girl’s right arm as a huge piece of cracked shell dug into the soft, unspoilt skin of her palm, being lodged deeper by the tips of her little fingers.

‘Come here…’

‘No!’

‘Come here…’

‘No! Please, just leave me alone!’

‘I said… COME HERE!’

‘No!! Stop! Please… STOP!’

The storm raged- the sea churned angrily, the rain and sleet was too dense to see past about a metre in front and the gale-force winds rattled the window panes, giving the effect of the whole house shivering.

The bloodied remnants of the shell fell to the fall like a shower of falling debris from the little girl’s injured palm, as she sprinted over to her bed, where she threw the duvet over herself, sending her day’s treasures laid out on her bed flying in every direction, and shoved a pillow over her head to try and muffle out the screeching and crying, the sound of thumps hitting every part of the body, the drunken jeers, the moans of the distraught wind, the thunder, the sleet hitting the windows with enough force to eventually crack each pane, the sound of a door slamming…

Amazingly, the girl did manage to drift off into a light slumber, leaving her head under the pillow and her upturned, injured hand hanging off the side of the bed. She was slightly roused from her sleep when she felt a sharp pain shooting up her arm again, as the palm was sprayed with suspect antiseptic liquid, closely followed by a cottony material being fastened around the injury, and the pillow being gently lifted off her somewhat stifled face. From here, she felt a pair of swollen lips press gently against the tip of her delicate nose, followed by a papery- thin, soft, damp cheek being pressed against her plump, rosy left cheek, with unforgettable words being whispered into her ear:

“There’s no need to hide anymore, sweetie… The storm’s passed, it’s won’t come back … Things will be easier this time around… There’ll be peace again…We’ll be safe… Absolutely, that’s a promise…”

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She lowered her hand, and looked out to the calm horizon, back in the present. Absolute safety. Her hand wandered over the various pebbles beside her subconsciously, and she nimbly picked out another hidden shell. One of the most beautiful shells she had ever set eyes on- and a clone of the shell she had managed to wreck yesterday. He gently held it up in her injured hand, admiring how the creamy, dappled colour of the shell contrasted with the scarlet and white of her bandage. How smooth and fragile it felt in her loose grip.

Absolute peace.