Castletown Beach
Carys Owen
The beach was still: not a soul to be seen in either direction. It was beautiful. The only noise that broke the silence was the sea lapping gently against the rocks and the occasional seagull’s call. The rock pools were full of sleepy sea-life who hid away under the bright green carpet of seaweed which covered much of the rock with its slippery strands. The rocks on the beach were dotted with small fossils of miniscule creatures from thousands of years before.
The place where the sea met the land was not a place of full, crashing, angry waves: it was a place which lulled you to sleep in the night with its soft, comforting tones. As the tide went further out, more and more of the beach revealed itself, showing large areas of smooth rock with more bursts of colourful seaweed lying about everywhere. On the horizon, the silhouette of a lighthouse stood tall and proud, ready to protect passing ships when, later in the day, the sun was once again replaced with moon and darkness fell on Castletown Beach.