Before the sun I like to run. Each morning, the empty beach beckons, an open invitation to chase the dawn. In the quiet darkness, I find solace and purpose.
The beauty lies in its simplicity. The beach, untouched and bare, waits for me with open arms. No distractions, no footprints to tread upon. It's just me, the sand, and the hushed whispers of the lapping ocean waves. Before the world awakens, I claim this fleeting world as mine.
Thanks for reading Bad, Bad, Bad, Good! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.
With each step, the sand moulds beneath my feet, propelling me forward with a steady rhythm. The darkness envelops me, shielding me from the noise and chaos that will soon unfold. It is in this calm that I find clarity, a sense of freedom unmatched by anything else.
This morning is perfect for a run. The storm last night was violent. After storms, the beach becomes an exciting treasure trove. Over time, I've stumbled upon numerous captivating finds that the churning waves deliver to the shore. It's like nature's own game of hide-and-seek, where fascinating objects appear as if by magic.
The beach reveals seashells in vibrant colours. I like to collect fragments of smooth sea glass, once discarded but now transformed into gems of the shore.
Yet, it's the aftermath of a storm that truly captures my imagination. As the waves retreat, they unveil unexpected surprises. Driftwood sculptures with peculiar shapes emerge, as if crafted by nature's own hand. Sometimes, I've been lucky enough to stumble upon remnants of sea life, spiky sea urchins, dead fish, and even a shark.
With each morning run, I relish the excitement of being the first to witness these marvellous discoveries. The thrill of being the sole explorer fuels my steps, evoking a sense of childlike wonder.
This morning feels different, charged with an air of curiosity. I arrive at a familiar sheltered cove. The sandy cliff that overlooks the beach has crumbled under the force of the storm that raged through the night. In the past, this cliff has attracted academics from the local university who come to explore its sandwiched layers, searching for fossils.
As I continue my run along the shore, my eyes catch sight of the crumbling rocks at the base of the cliff. A small landslide, triggered by the storm's fury, has altered the landscape. Curiosity piqued, I draw closer to investigate.
Amongst the fractured rocks, something catches my attention—a peculiar object jutting out from the exposed cliff face. Its shape is reminiscent of an ellipsoid, its size is comparable to that of a small car. Yet, I have a twinge of disbelief. Metal? Here? And with such a smooth surface? It seems inconceivable. After all, the fossils scattered throughout this area date back 100 million years or more. How could something as modern as metal find its place inside a sheer cliff of ancient rock? Doubt gnaws at my mind, and yet, my curiosity drives me on.
Not breaking my stride, I continue my run with an eye on the object until I leave the cove and the enigmatic object behind. The sound of my feet hitting the sand and the soothing roar of the ocean consume my senses again, pushing the mystery of the object deeper into the recesses of my mind. In the rhythm of my breath and the steady motion of my body, the allure of the strange discovery fades away, becoming a fleeting distraction in the vastness of the beachscape.
The next day, I returned to the same spot during my run. I pick up speed as I approach the cove, reminded of the landslide and object embedded in the cliff above. To my surprise, a wooden barricade manned by soldiers in army fatigues bars my way to the cove on the beach. They make it clear that access is strictly forbidden.
As I stand there panting, puzzled by the sudden change, a distant rumbling catches my attention. Glancing towards the inaccessible cove, I see a wash of illumination. The sound grows louder, and soon enough, a helicopter emerges. It flies low, trailing long ropes beneath it. Wrapped in nets and tarps, something of significant size is being transported.
The helicopter passes directly overhead, its deafening roar filling my ears. I shield my eyes from the dust and flying sand and watch as it disappears into the distance, taking its mysterious cargo out to sea. Left with more questions than answers, I reluctantly retreat, retracing my steps along the shoreline. Thoughts swirl in my mind, pondering the nature of the enigmatic payload and its secrets.
Thanks for reading Bad, Bad, Bad, Good! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.