Seafoam [short]

A short piece of descriptive(?) writing which I wrote in my English mock.

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Seafoam fists batter the shoreline, lashing and pounding relentlessly on the jagged teeth of the rocks. Iridescent fingers of ivory pinch at the rocks before dripping back into the ocean, pairs of droplets caught in a melancholy dance, their efforts not effective in a century long battle for dominance.

 

Many years ago, the water was tamer, a silver mirror which reflected every watercolour sunrise and saturated sunset in its flawless surface. That was before the influence of humanity spiralled out of control: pollution began to warm the earth and let nature out of control, causing them to call out each attempt to remove humanity as a ‘natural disaster’.

 

The ocean continued the fight, a merciless soldier who cannot be restrained.

 

Now, there is a house on the shoreline, far enough away to have escaped from the vengeful hands. Instead, they clutch at the base of cliffs, tugging, twisting, and pulling until the fractured teeth become weak.

 

Day by day. Week by week. Month by month. Time goes on.

 

The hands are patient. After all, they’ve been there for years before the house, and lifetimes before humanity attempted to take the natural world into their own control.

 

The hands are patient. After all, they’ve done this before, scratching at the earth with their ragged fingernails until it begins to beg for mercy, falling into the welcoming embrace of the water, piece by piece.

 

The hands are patient. After all, they’ve made small victories against humanity before. Wrecked ships are reported as results of the wind and rain, but the hands are always waiting for revenge, wearing the carcasses of boats and bodies as medals of honour.

 

The hands may be equally matched in the war against the earth, but they can defeat humanity, grasping and dragging down each body until they gasp for

 

one

 

final

 

breath.

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