Write Your Name In The Sand Novels & Stories

“Will you be my girlfriend? My forever? ” My chest tightened. “Yes,” I answered immediately, my voice soft but sure. He didn’t say anything after that. He just leaned in and kissed me, slow, warm, like he was sealing the moment. I smiled into it. Then, out of nowhere, he stood up. I watched him bend down and draw a big heart in the sand. Inside it, he wrote my name, Zara. I laughed and stood up too. Taking my turn, I drew another heart, starting from my side, curving it so it intertwined with his, like the two hearts were holding each other.

I asked, removing the sand from my body. “Moon goddess,”

I crouched down, dragging my finger through the sand as I wrote our names. Roxanne & Damien. I leaned back slightly, admiring it. “There,” I said. He stood behind me, looking down at it. “Temporary,” he noted. I glanced up at him, frowning. “So?” He crouched down beside me, his hand brushing over mine briefly before he pressed his fingers into the sand again...this time carving deeper. “Not this, of course,” he said. I watched the way he traced over it. More permanent. More…deliberate.

My memories of how I had crossed it to get away from Orian coming back to me as I picked at the sand with a twig I had broken off the low branch of a tree. I got to drawing on the sand with the twig, carving Orian's full name with the nicknames I had for him first before drawing a heart and Cupid's arrow in it and then setting to carve out my names beneath it and I tried to spell his nickname for me in his language which he still hadn't told me the meaning before writing a together forever beneath the drawings and adding kissy faces of a male and female caricature. You are so cringe, Cora rolled her eyes at my antics, add love signs at the top of his name, and put in extra for me... please.

With the last of my strength, I dipped my fingertip in my own blood and wrote three words on the ground. "This is fake."

He guided my finger, carving one big word into the sand right in front of my knees. ROMANO. I stared at the letters. The lines weren’t perfect, but they were obvious enough. The first wave came in, licking the edge of the R. “What’s next, are you writing your name on my forehead with sunscreen?” I asked flatly. “Good option for later,” he murmured. I jabbed his shoulder with my elbow. “Dream on.” The second wave rolled in, swallowing half of the O and M. Zane only watched, a thin smile playing on his mouth.

With each cautious step backwards, I carve out the space I desperately need, the distance mirrored in his anxious gaze. "Bambi," he warns softly, a hint of urgency in his voice. "I just need space. I need to breathe," I insist, my words tumbling out like waves crashing against the shore. To calm my racing heart, I lower myself onto the soft, golden grains of sand, sinking my toes into the warmth the sun generously spreads beneath me. The gentle sound of the rolling waves provides a soothing backdrop, momentarily easing my turbulent thoughts.

"The name of today's challenge is Tidal Connection. It's going to be all about teamwork, communication and creativity. You're doing it with your partner, no shuffling." 'Thank goodness!' I said to myself. "Each pair must work together to build a sandcastle within twenty minutes. Your time starts now!" We all went to our supposed spots and began our task. "We have to win this, Belle. I need that sunset dinner with you." Kyle said. "Trust me on this, we would," I stated, my hair blowing in the breeze. "Let's start from the base and work our way up." As we began to build, waves crashed against the shore, threatening to wash away our structure.

My toes wiggle in the cold, moist sand – it feels so soft against my skin. The sand spreads out, further and further, as far as I can see. It glistens as if a million stars have fallen from the heavens above and softly swallowed by the solid ground and now illuminates its light from below. One could mistake it for the calm sea, shining from the sun’s harsh rays. However, its soft grainy texture and its ability to hold me from falling prove that it is indeed sand.

"Oh, by the way, my name is Sandrine, but I prefer to go by Sandy , I'm 10 years old." Curiosity piqued, I found myself drawn to Sandy's bubbly nature. "Nice to meet you, Sandy," I said, extending a hand. "I'm little-angel, 18 years old." Gently shaking my hand, Sandy's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Likewise! I'm so thrilled to have you here with me today," she exclaimed, her enthusiasm contagious. "You're going to love what awaits us."