Gloomy Beach Novels & Stories

“I’m just joking. I’m so happy for you. Really. I can’t wait to see her again.” He smiled and kissed the top of my head. “It means a lot that you’re here.” Later that evening, Mum, Dad, Alister, and I made our way to the beach. Gloria and her family were supposed to meet us there for dinner. Everything looked perfect—the sky had turned soft shades of orange and pink, and the ocean waves lapped gently at the shore. The private area Alister had set up looked beautiful, with fairy lights, a table for dinner, and rose petals scattered in the sand.

I turned my head away and refused to look at her. I let go of ten years of love in a single day. Marriages built on benefit never lasted. Jaime stared at me with confusion. “What are you angry about? You agreed to the race yourself, and you were the one who fell off the cliff. I even gave you the drugs, and you’re still making a fuss.” A faint, sarcastic smile tugged at my lips. “Isn’t it possible that Derek drove me off the cliff? Oh right, you trust Derek more than me.”

“I hope you like the surprise.” He guided her through the trees. “Good place to bury bodies,” Kalina joked. But as they cleared the brush, Zoriana gasped. Hidden behind the forest was a private beach with pristine white sand. The ocean waves moved softly, shimmering under the late afternoon sun. In the centre of the beach sat a beautiful canopy with sheer white curtains. Inside was a low table piled with gourmet finger foods and cushions that looked soft as clouds. “Do you like it?” Gael asked, helping her sink into the cosy cushions.

A steel-gray blanket covered the sky. The damp, chilly breeze blew past Zephyra and promised rain, and maybe even sleet. All in all, the afternoon was a fitting depiction of a dreary fall day. With a shiver, she zipped up her jacket as she waited for Brady in the back parking lot of the butcher’s shop. He’d called her that morning. One of the guys from the list, Glenn, agreed to meet with him at Angie’s, so Zephyra told Dylan they would meet up later after work.

The rubbish almost decorated the floor of the beach, different colours, shapes and sizes. As if with the sun all the noises of the beach disappeared. Lonely and quiet the beach was still and silent. Only the light sound of waves was crashing against the soft sand. The cold and salty breeze of the night was shivering them all. Like them, others were also sitting on the sea beach in a group and were chatting merely while testing the foods of all the stalls nearby. It was almost night when Helen stood up from her place and while stretching, she declared, "Alright I am sleepy. So I am going back."

I could already tell that this wasn’t going to be a good day. We arrived at Blair’s so-called secret beach just before noon. The sun was high, the breeze was salty, and the sand was scorching. The place looked untouched, probably because people knew better than to come here. “This is it!” Blair twirled around with a grin. Her red sarong flew like she was in some perfume commercial. “Welcome to Seluna Beach!” she said like she owned the place. It was beautiful. But something about the silence here felt wrong. It was too quiet. I pulled out my phone to search for a signal. I had no bars. But one thing managed to come through, flashing across the screen.

Tossing my shirt onto the lounger, I all but tripped over my flip flops trying to follow her. ***Sarah POV*** The sand was warm between my toes as I ran towards the water. I’d never been to the beach before and seeing the ocean up this close was something I had always wanted. I stopped at the edge of the water, letting the waves splash up over my toes. It wasn't as cold as I'd thought it would be. “Sarah?” Dom asked, and I looked over my shoulder at him. “Never have I ever been to the beach.” I giggled and he grabbed my hand.

We play music and party until we see the island in the distance. "Is it storming there?" asked Shellie. Dottie stops the music and her eyes are fixed on the darkened island. She mumbles, "Something's not right." The closer we got, the island felt eerie. It's not raining, but dense fog is across the beachfront. Dottie whispers, "Let's turn around."

When I was five, I was always excited whenever it was time for bed. My Grandma Momma will cook our dinner. Let me brush my teeth and comb my long hair. And after that, she will put me into bed and bedtime stories will follow. She told me a lot of fantasy stories, but my favorite was the pirate of the Lost Sea named Escarial. He was the epitome of perfection. Gentleman, handsome, a knight in shining armor to most of the ladies in their land, and most of all, he caught the heart of the brave princess, Athalia.

We go to the coast. Not anywhere exotic. Not a long haul flight at twenty weeks pregnant. Just England in December, a small rented house on a cliff above the sea, the specific spare beauty of the English coast in winter when nobody else is there and the world is stripped back to its most honest version. Grey water. Pale light. The wind doing its indifferent coastal thing. Arlo on the beach below with his one white ear forward and his amber eyes doing the ambassador thing at seagulls who are not remotely intimidated.