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The Beach

A very short story

 The waves roared. It looked as if they were angry with someone. Or maybe with a lot of things or people or both. The beach was deserted. Silent. Still. Just the opposite of the raging ocean. The rage of the ocean contained a hunger that the beach did not seem to understand. Was the beach the cause of that hunger, all that anger?

 The tall coconut trees stood indifferently off the beach. The roads beyond those lanky trees were frighteningly abandoned. The sun lashed the tarmac mercilessly. Move on the road, a few kilometres, and you will come across the woods. The lovely, dark and green woods. A virus laughs in those woods. 

 I prefer the rage of the waves. 

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