Creative Writing: to Walk on the Beach

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It was not often we make it in time for sunset. Mum, Dad and I hurried down from our waterfront villa, perched just above the beach, overlooking the scenery that seemed out of this world. I felt very privileged, to be stationed upon the sand gazing out at the stagnant Byron Bay ocean, leaving me perplexed as to its beauty. The scene brought with it a wave of inner peace, exuding into almost a sense of euphoria, however slightly calmer. Fading slowly, it looked at peace. It felt like we were walking on a carpet of cotton wool, due to the softness. The indescribable golden sand swept around in a scythe of beach, followed by lengthened dunes. Observing the ocean, rivers of pulsating light marinated the sea with gold. Only the occasional tourist walked past us, counterintuitive to customary depiction of Byron Bay. The sky here was so clear and wide, with no buildings or smog to hide the velvety blackness. The horizon seemed to be sewn with a vibrant silver line. The waves in the vastness were like white crinkles on a immeasurable bale of velvet and the sprawling of the yachts was both musical and mesmeric. The kookaburras had come from their eucalyptus forests and out onto the beach, and were now squawking over our heads and squabbling for any scraps that they could find. Their dark brown wing plumage filled the air, contrasting pleasantly with their white head and underside. Dark brown eye stripes ran across their faces and into a blackish colour that covered their beaks. Their tails were red and patterned with black bars.

As time rolled on, so did our time in the sun. Our bodies scorched to a crisp, marginally debilitating the plethora of joy of Byron Bay. Barbecued aromas drifted towards us, accumulating to my state of famish. Conflicting with my introspection was an onset of crashing waves colliding against the shore, although the aftermath was relaxing rhythmic splashes. the sound of musical waves that created a melodic, soothing feeling was mixed with the pleasant humming of lorikeets that rested upon the many trees. I clicked my finger on my camera as fast as I could, in a desperate attempt to capture every aspect of them. Their superfluity of colour made the lorikeet seem truly ethereal, lighting up the sky in vibrant fashion. They slowly drifted off and the sky transitioned into a curtain of silk, amongst with tufty clouds of a neutral grey drifted past. The opera of the sea eroded over me.

The day at the beach reached a pleasing climax while watching the sunset and the overall experiences that Byron Bay brought with it were fruitful for the soul. In a jovial mood a strolled back on my own, immersed in my surroundings. All of a sudden, I came across something vexatious and stopped dead in my tracks. Fixated partly into the sand was a white dove, undertaking physical endeavours to try and take off into the sky, yet it couldn’t. Just like it was Dad’s duty to go to war, I felt like it was my duty to care for this bird, so I decided to do exactly that. With my hands I scooped up the fragile dove ever so carefully and carried it with me the rest of the way home.

As I tossed and turned in my bed, I couldn’t help but dwell on the health of the dove. The suspense became too much for me, so I got up and decided to take the dove somewhere it could get better care – MyVet Byron Bay. The heart of the town shone brightly as I made my way through to get to the vet, my pulse reverberating with the constant rush of nightlife. Myriads of voices echoed as the locals began to head for a night out. A picturesque scene of Byron Bay at night painted out before my eyes. I arrived at the vet, said my goodbyes to the dove that I had developed a bond with so quickly, and left it there knowing it would be in better hands. Taking care of the dove brought me peace of the deepest kind, soothing and quietening my worried and troubled thoughts, enabling me to find renewal in the silence of the mind.

Byron Bay was an ethereal place and I had become fascinated with one thing in particular – the abundance of bird species that called it “home”.

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Creative Writing: To Walk On The Beach. (2021, Dec 28). Retrieved November 29, 2023 , from

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