waves in the sea - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Waves come, transient yet always there, rising, falling. They scatter the light, the hue of the water ever changing yet always familiar, always blue. How could I fail to love them as they dance inward to crash on the pebbles? How could I fail to appreciate the salty air or the cold caress of the breeze? They are stalwarts of this ocean-side life, present and passing, always the same and never.
Yesterday the sea was laid flat and my emotions also, as if one were a reflection of the other. Today, likewise, yet the waves are choppy, the surface like a mirror turned half liquid, breaking and flowing all at once.
The waves break around the rocks in the shallows, their foam crests becoming chaotic lace over the blue. Jazz watches it swirl, mesmerized, as if the movement of the water choreographs her thoughts.
The waves come like a coiffured fifties hair do, over pronounced in the arch and impossible to avert the gaze from. They roll as the ocean does, bringing the music of the beach, the percussion section roaring from the stoney bed below yet softened by the water.
The waves come in as a deep aquamarine and turn golden as they churn the sand on the shore. Each hue is made more pretty by the brilliant white of the crests, drawing the eye away from the cloudless sky.
The waves roll in, each of them as strong and bold as the last. They come without fear of the beach, embracing their destiny upon the dawn sands. Caleb walks forwards until the water soaks his bare feet, his shoes already dangling in his left hand. Not once does he gaze downward at the water, instead preferring to lock his eyes on the horizon and feel the coldness, hear the rhythmic crashing, taste the brine as much as smell it.
Rain began to patter from a dark sky and fire rose to meet them; lightning cracked the sky in two, smoke whirled around ships and galleys, dead things shambled through the damp soil beneath a wall. Wind rose and a white storm covered the land, and then the white turned to ashes. One by one, the waves crashed but never rose again.
The waves were powerful in that violent way of storms and their roar echoed across the sea to the dark land. The wind lashed in a torrent of its own as if determined to strike fear into the land-dwellers. The gusty trees creaked so loud it was more like screaming below the gale.