The Beach (1989)

A seagull squawked as he headed for the horizon. Soon he was a speck I
could hardly see.

It was a dry day, as it had been for the past week. The sand of the
sandhills had no moisture in it, and the bushes were parched. A slight
wind blew sand in my mouth as I turned around the corner. I could
taste its grittiness.

Sweeping my eyes around, I thought I could see a flicker of red.
Quietly, I scrambled up a tunnel inside the bushes. At its end, was an
open space, with a view of all the sandhills. Still I could see
no-one. I followed my favourite path through the bushes, branches
scratched at my bre legs. I waved away a fly, and while doing this, I
tripped over a red bucket, left behind by someone who had obviously
forgotten it. This must have been the flicker of red I'd seen. I kept
walking.

Mow I was in the valley. In front of me was my fort, behind my
"enemies". Sand bombs were hurled at the enemy across the valley. I
turned to my left, and faced the desert. It was flat, rock-hard sand,
with broken glass scattered all over it. Once I had hurled a sand bomb
at it, and it's dark colour had stood out against the dry brown earth.
In the distance was the beach, the soft sound of waves breaking over
could be heard.

I had dreamed of this place often, and now I was back.

"Boo!"

I was caught. I joined my old friend, and we ran towards the top of my sandhill.