This started as just me typing away, but then the story just took me, and wrote itself. Enjoy.
The pebbles crunched underneath my feet, shifting and rubbing against each other like lovers in the heat of passion. As they tumbled across the beach, guided by waves of emotion, I watched for anomalies; things I could collect. The occassional piece of glass, smoothed by years of rubbing on sand and stone, and being pushed around by water, can be found here. Once I found an old piece of decorative tile, the flowers still visible although the sea had smoothed the edges away.
A seagull flapped overhead, shrieking at me in his own shrill tone. He circled once, then flew off towards the others, who stood and shuffled along the sandy bottom of the harbour while the tide was out. They hopped around, preening themselves like sixteenth century, overly important aristocrats; fluffed up with rouged cheeks.
While I walked there for over an hour, the grey clouds had rolled in from the ocean, turning it to a slate colour that gave no hint of emotion. It looked like rain so I turned and headed for the cliffs, since my hour of walking had taken me far from where I started. I had to walk away from the harbour, up the beach and round the jutting cliff, where I would find a path that leads up to the village I had to call my home from then on.
As I walked I thought about this, about the lack of freedom I had in the decision to move. Away from the warmth, away from the sun, away from my friends and everything I had known in America, to the dreary, moody weather of England. My mother's job had brought her there, and myself and my brother with her. But the year after I intended to return to go to college, but for then I was being forced in to what the British call 'Sixth Form'. Everyone would already know each other, and I'd be the American crashing their school. At least my brother had found it easy. He was six, so all the kids in school just accepted him. He'd make friends easy.
I yelped as water filled my shoes. The tide was coming in. Fast. And I still had to make it round the cliff. There was no way I was going to make it at the pace I was going. I started to run, desperate to make it. But as I reached the jutting rock, I saw the beach there had gone already. I had no idea how to make it back up on to the land, except from the harbour I'd just run away from. And that was slowly getting filled with water.
Holy shit, I thought. This is it. I'm forced to move to another country, and I'm going to die on the first day. This is it. This is it.
I searched the cliff for any sign of a path that could lead me to safety. The water wasn't safe to push my way through, because the waves were getting stronger under the clouds which had turned stormy. They glared down at me, daring me to escape. I was going to have to risk the water. If I could make it round the edge, I thought, the beach that side would still exist. It was wider than the one I was on, and there should have still been a good stretch of it left. Of course, I was going to be drenched, but I'd rather that than just sitting down and waiting to drown. I quickly yanked off my shoes and socks, pulled off my jacket and headed towards the water. The first crash of freezing wave against me almost made me turn away and run, but I knew it would do no good. Eventually, this water would get me.
The waves were now at my waist, and I was already feeling rock instead of stones. I gripped the cliff, hoping that I wouldn't get pulled out to sea. Another wave pushed me against it, but I managed to protect my head with my arms and pushed forward. Then I was close to the furthest point of the cliff. When I had come through, this part was already under water and I had come through an arch in the cliff, but it was too dangerous to try and swim through there. It was completely under water now. I would get stuck and drown. So I clung with feet and hands to every available surface, spitting out water and blinking hard as the rain hit. I could hardly see anything, except for the end of the jutting rock. If I made it round that, all I would have to do is make it to shore.
And then there was no more rock beneath my feet, and I slipped. Clinging on to the cliff for dear life, I searched blindly for a foothole. The water was too deep there, and all that remained was the cliff. I was forced momentarily underwater by the next wave, and reached the surface, gasping, as the next wave pounded down, pushing me under again.
I lost track of how many times I was pushed down, reaching for air, being flung around by the current. And then one large wave picked me up and tossed me forward, I felt my head hit rock with a crunch, and the rest was darkness.