Chalkwell Beach by Tilly

My special place

The stunning view of my Chalkwell Beach, always makes the corner of my mouth creep up into a slight grin at the first glance. The beauty of the water is so mesmerising. The temptation of the water has lured me in many times , I have previously jumped off a wall into the sea before, wearing my scarlet summer dress, just because of the waves. As I clamber over the wall surrounding the beach there are a dozen beach huts, all different colours. I am sad to say, but we do not own a beach hut of our own, but have often ventured over the top of the others.

 The sand is pale. It is lightly topped with grey pebbles and slimy green seaweed. But last, is the glistening turquoise water that reflects the suns rays over the beach. All I see is calm.

            As the beach is our regular part of the wide stretched land, my head is flooded with cheerful and exuberant memories, though sorrowful memories do come too, no matter how utterly rare they are. Last summer the sun was a blaring concentrated heat that burnt my winter pale skin. One day we had brought a small and discreet picnic to the beach. The sandwiches were cheese, it was slowly melting, and of a lovely supermarket taste. The crisps, well to be totally honest were wet. They were soggy and had a horrible texture. My sister and I were bored of the repulsive food and secretly threw it into the ocean.

            We jumped form the sand and headed into the shining water, beneath us. It chilled us but we still dived in. After being at this beach for such a long time we were simply bored and started to make up songs and dances. We had choreographed our own dance moves for a song called Popular from the musical Wicked. We showed our performance to our family and everyone was in fits of laughter. My mischievous cousin Sam had his new video camera out and videoed our dance. He still has that file and to this day has still not stopped trying to eternally embarrass us, and to the people we least wanted to see it.

            Splash. The waves settle down on the sand with a splash. This is the overpowering sound I hear when I think of the beach. The tough, blowing wind whistles in your ears on a cloudy day. The pebbles grind against my feet as we step onto stones. On a sunny day you could hear the children’s playful giggles from down the beach and the splattering of ice cream to the floor of the beach. The aroma of the hot doughnuts flow down the beach, emmanating to nothing. The strong scent of salt water lingers around my nostrils till I dive into the ocean and the smell of the water is all around me.

This is my beach.

BY TILLY