Cold grey waves snarled viciously at the dusty brown sand that blew about ungracefully in the strong harsh wind. The breeze wailed as it bustled across the dull cloudy sky and over the high crumbling cliffs that formed a barrier around the deserted beach. This moaning, along with the crashing of the sea and a few lone cries from miserable gulls, was the only sound to penetrate the deafening silence that clouded the air.
It was blocked from all sides; from land by the towering, menacing cliffs that crouched protectively around; the thick fog and constant layer of clouds prevented access from the air; to the sea was a line of sharp rocks that spiked up from beneath the violent surface to create an impenetrable, deadly barricade. So the sand danced to its own tune, the sea making no attempt to hide its laughter as it swept in and splashed out, dragging with it to its depths rock and other debris.
No animals dared go near the beach, except several stray birds foolishly thinking they may find food lingering in the murky waters. The reason for the avoidance is unknown, even to the animals themselves.
Yet today was different. Today there was a man there, just stood there, a man all alone. You're probably laughing at me saying, "No there isn't. No one can get there, you told me yourself." Indeed I did. For how could I have known, that this single, solitary figure, would reach the drifting sands? How could I have known when he did not know himself? How could I have known anyone would reach The Beach?