) The brief was to write aproximately a side of A4 based upon a description of a location... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I used to wake early, long before anyone else, and sit alone on the shore with the warm sea lapping gently at my ankles and a fresh inbound breeze ruffling my hair.
Out on the horizon, the hazy morning sky met seamlessly with the inky blue of the Arabian Sea. Sometimes a trading dhow would sail silently by, laden with rugs and spice, riding low in the water. Other times a small fishing boat would set out slowly from the nearby village, motor chugging rhythmically as it bobbed in the swell. Then the motor would cut out as the boat drifted stealthily toward purple shadows beneath the surface; a shoal of fish unaware of the nets.
Closer to shore, the water seemed to move more and the tips of the approaching waves would glitter and flash in the brightening sunlight. I used to think the water looked like an ocean of liquid sapphires, opals and aquamarine. I would wait eagerly for the glint of a diamond.
The heat would grow in intensity as the sun rose in the sky. Then I would wade deeper into the cool waves, allowing the water to lap against my waist. The fine sand would surge between my toes, stirring and swirling like smoke. The shifting grains would reveal more sunken treasure – pieces of shell, small stones and tiny crabs – then it would be re-buried.
Looking back to the camp, the air would shimmer as the sun warmed the beach. My footprints made a trail to the tent, which occasionally billowed like a sail in the hot breeze.
In the sand dunes rising behind the camp, a desert palm bent lazily over the swaying grasses. It provided just enough shades for our water flasks which would hang from the fronds. Further still, beyond the dunes, the craggy outcrops and mountain loomed. To the right was a narrow gully between the rocks where the sea had beaten through. The inlet was perfect for fishing with a net and bucket, and the many rock pools were filled with tiny creatures – barnacles and star fish, sea anemones, small fish, shrimps and crabs to name a few. On good days I would find an angelfish hiding amongst the seaweed. On bad days, the inlet would be filled with torn nets, frayed rope and broken bottles, washed up by tropical storms.
When the tide came in and overwhelmed the pools my sister and I would play higher up beyond its reach, sheltering under and overhanging rock when the sun became too much to bare. We’d dig for pirate gold until too dark to see and then hurry back to the light of the bonfire before the spiders and scorpions ventured out.
I miss Khor Fakkan; its magical scenery, its peace and tranquillity, not to mention the happy times I had there. Someday I may get to return, but until then I have only a memory to cherish.
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