By Anna Garthwaite | Posted: Wednesday June 28, 2017
The tree stood ghost-like, the silent observer of the grey mountains, the sea and the clouds. The only thing bigger than range of granite peaks was the midnight sky, dotted with silver and as vast as any eye could wander. Below stood a girl, made all the more tiny, her red dress flimsy in the wind. She stared out with blank expression at the sea, the gulls are tossed paper in a storm, flashes of white in the grey, tumbling as they struggle against the gale. Beneath them the sea rises as great mountains, anger in the form of water, turbulent and unforgiving. She lifted up her pale hand and screamed as the waves got closer but did not move from her position. Her red dress was soaked from head to toe and her pale features blended with the sand as she struggled in the arms of the waves that wrapped around her. She was squeezed and pulled but she couldn’t ignore her defeat.