Short Story from Writing Class with Wounded Warriors
Beach goers scream and laugh as they jump in the waves. Cold water sprays over them as the waves do their best to push them back to the sand. Allyson puts her long wavy blonde hair up in a messy bun while she watches the waves. She smiles and lays back on her towel, covering her eyes with her dark sunglasses. Just a few minutes is all she needs.
Then she can get up and head off to work. A sound catches her attention and she sits up, looking around to see what is going on. She sees a few kids running away from a burly man who has his hands up, roaring at them as he pretends to be a monster.
Allyson laughs and shakes her head, laying back down and closing her eyes. The sun is extremely bright today, a lot brighter than usual. She rolls onto her stomach, trying to get away from the glare. She didn’t want to leave yet, but the sun is being a nuisance. Getting comfortable, Allyson finally relaxes. She slips away, sighing deeply as the sounds of the people around her melts away.
The sun glares down, forcing more people into the cool water. Allyson groans, the sun interrupting her tanning session. She rolls back over and sits up, looking at the nearly empty beach. She stands up and steps off of her beach towel.
“Ouch!” She leaps back on the towel. “The sand is so hot.”
She looks to see kids crying and clinging to their parents as they stand on their towels. She looks at those stuck in the water, panicking because they can’t escape the waves. The waves push the people without a care, pushing them forward and back on land. There are too many people in the water and a few falls on the hot sand. They scream and try to scamper back into the water.
Allyson yells for them to get back in the water, but they can’t. The waves keep forcing more and more out of the water and onto the sand. Their skin melts off as soon as they touch it. The glaring sun seems to laugh at its victims. Soon those in the water lay still, unmoving, and their skin mostly gone. Allyson cries when she watches the waves, pulls the people off the sand and back into the water. Their bodies float around, bumping into one another.
Allyson covers her mouth and turns away, gagging. She can hear crying and screaming from the children. She can hear people throwing up and panicking. Voices collide together, bursting in her ears, making it hard for her to concentrate. The world spins around her and she looks around, trying to concentrate on one thing. Darkness soon engulfs her and she collapses.
A couple of hours later, Allyson’s eyes flutter open. The sun is no longer high in the sky, but it’s still hot. The noises from the others invade her ears again. She sits up and covers her ears. She looks down to see she is inches from the sand and scoots back on her towel. Allyson looks at the others, seeing children growing tired and not having room to sit down. She sees others sitting down, talking of their phones to loved ones.
At the edge of the beach, she sees a group of surfers heading their way. She jumps to her feet. “No, don’t touch the sand!” She jumps up and down, waving her hands frantically to catch their attention.
One surfer waves at her, thinking her desperate movements was her saying hi. He doesn’t hear her pleas to stop and he and his buddies walk on the sand without a care. They get a few steps on the beach when the heat starts to eat away at the bottom of their feet. They drop their boards and jump around, screaming in agony.
“Get on your boards, hurry!” someone yells at them.
Four out of seven surfers can get on their boards. Their other friends collapse on the hot sand and perish. Allyson covers her mouth, sobbing at the sight. How could this be happening?
A panicked voice catches her attention. A man sitting alone on his towel near to her is yelling that he needs to get off the beach. Others try to calm him down, but he won’t listen.
Allyson looks around for something, anything, that will help them escape the murderous sand. She spots a little boy sitting in a blow-up boat next to his family sitting on their towels. She looks around at the people, noting how close everyone was to each other and to the entrance of the beach.
Allyson can’t see any other beachgoers around, so she assumes they are the last. She turns her attention to the others, spying extra towels, two more blow up boats, and several other floatation devices. She raises her eyes, thinking for a minute.
“Shut up!” Allyson yells at the man, who keeps sniveling and yelling.
The man glares at her, but she ignores him.
“Listen up!” Allyson kneels down and looks in her bag to see if she has anything they can stand on. The only thing inside is her clothes, a couple of books, a bottle of sunscreen, and a couple of water bottles.
She pulls out her clothes and tosses them on the ground. She leaps onto them but has to jump back, her weight having pushed them down into the sand. Her feet burn, but she ignores it. Allyson gently puts down her book next and stands on it. She nods and looks around at the others.
“Get your extra towels, books, floating devices, and the blow-up boats. Place them on the sand and let’s make a trail out of here. Make sure you don’t get sand on them.” Allyson jumps back to her towel and walks to the other end closest to a family of five.
They grab their towels and make it to her towel with just using four of them. The dad went back to the other side and makes a trail from the other side and connects it with a couple using their books. Seeing their success, the others put down their floaties, boats, towels, and other studier items they can find. They make sure sand doesn’t get on them as they connect to each other.
The surfers watch, moaning in pain. One of them digs his hands into the sand, screaming, and pushes himself forward. He lifts his bloody hands and sticks them back into the sand, dragging his surf board over to Allyson.
He gets as close as he can and collapses, the pain too much and his hands gone. One of his buddies grabs a dead surfer’s board and tosses it so it lands close to the parking lot. He grabs another one and throws it so it can be near that one. While he is doing this, their other friends are putting themselves in danger and using their hands to close the gaps until they have a somewhat straight line.
The man who was panicking earlier shoves a few people off the floaties into the burning sand and runs across. “Get out of my way!”
Those pushed into the sand scream as the heat melts them away. The man is nearly to Allyson, with a look in his eye that tells her he will kill anyone in his way. He jumps on a unicorn floatie and his foot slips. His eyes widen and he falls off the side, landing hard in the scorching sand. He scrambles to get to his feet, but the pain is too much and he falls on his face.
Allyson looks away as the man thrashes, sending sand flying in all directions. Allyson screams when she feels the sand hit her face and body. She can smell her flesh burning as the sand clings to it. Without warning, someone leaps on her and shoves her to the ground.
She can feel a towel brushing off the sand. When she looks up, the father of the family who had made the first bridge to her is getting the sand off of her. His family sneaks past and hurries across the surfer, who lies motionless on his board. The kids continue to go while the mother stops and checks for a pulse.
“Dear, leave him and go call 9-1-1 again. They have should have been here hours ago when we first called.” Her husband helps Allyson to her feet. “Let’s go, miss. Your idea was ingenious.”
They hurry over the injured surfers and leap onto safe ground. Allyson collapses and just stares at the dead bodies. Sirens finally fill the air and the survivors help the injured surfers onto the safe ground. Everyone is rushed to the hospital and treated for their burns. Scientists are called to the beach to investigate what has happened, but by the time they got there, everything is back to normal.
Up the coast of California a few weeks after the strange incident on a beach down south, Tracee sits on her beach towel. She is enjoying the warm weather. It wasn’t too warm, thankfully. She watches kids build sand castles and some teens bury one of their friends. She rubs in her sunscreen, puts on her glasses and lays down. She is ready for this much needed tanning by herself time.
A few minutes later, Tracee hears screaming. She sits up and looks around, shading the sun from her hands. The sun seems to have gotten a lot hotter. She looks at the buried teen.
He is screaming, trying to get out of the sand. His friends are nowhere around to help him. Tracee screams as she watches in horror as the teen boils to death in his sand cauldron.