Shells, sea creatures and refuse swept up from the ocean floor dash helplessly against rocky outcroppings, before being sucked back into the maelstrom.
Lightning sparks the crests of the waves, as the tempest moves on, reluctantly releasing its hold, and the frenzied surf’s passion wanes.
Ripples slide back down the beach, lacking the strength to carry their burden of flotsam with them.
A tangle of seaweed and debris bobs gently in the foam.
Small ivory fingers curl up from the tangle, as though still seeking the comforting clasp of a guiding hand.