Writing practice

Untitled Part 1

Clawed shadowy hands cast by the leaves of old palms stroked the pavement as if attempting to touch the rough ground or any passer-by. The sun was well into setting, disappearing behind the buildings to make way for the night, but tangerine rays of light still shot through the adjacent tropical trees, over the crystal bay. The street descended into an aqua ocean guarded only by a short concrete wall in the absence of a hand rail.

 A child followed the path, cautiously aware of the empty streets of the town, big enough to get lost in but small enough that at night the streets were whisper less. Coming back from the beach with a trail of sand from his bare feet, he spent most of his energy concentrating on the claw like hands that filled him with irrational fear, but the feeling of rough concrete under his feet, the lack of contact from shadowy beings, reminded him the shapes were merely the absence of light. He clumsily stepped over the cracks in the concrete running a hand along the barnacle clad wall, it grabbed at his hands like sandpaper but the texture was oddly fascinating to him. Somewhat odd, and old, he wondered if the barnacles had been there longer than he had. If they saw, what did they see? What did they think of the shadows at dusk? Could barnacles imagine anything at all? He walked onward moving his hand over the wall methodically over the old sea shells until he heard a disturbance in the water. A small splash that shattered the glassy expanse. He stopped in his tracks whipping his hair out of his eyes so he could look into the water more closely. It rippled slightly as it reformed in to glass.

 Once again the peculiar fear that came with ambiguity washed over him. He turned towards the water clutching the wall so he could lean closer to the bay. Deep turquoise liquid greeted his eyes, it seemed to stare back at him, warn him to retreat, but his curiosity outweighed his fear so he moved back from the wall over to a banksia beside the concrete and picked a seed pod carefully from the ground turning it over in his hand as he returned to the wall. He looked back at the water which continued its still existence in response to his idea. He tossed it lightly into the liquid where the ripple had been and stepped back in anticipation. The water creased eerily again, as the seed pod sunk into the depths, the boy waited for the ocean's response, leaning over the wall again, hands clutched tightly to the edge. Once again the glassy water reformed, appeased by this offering. He leaned back again, not taking his eyes from the water. He looked around, there was no sight of a bird in the water, nor another human being. It was as if the water had made a noise itself, or a creature bellow wanted to scare him, draw him in. He backed off from the wall deciding to take the way home further from the bay. The Palm shadows were wispy now as the sun sunk lower. A gull screamed from above the shopfronts, and he sped his pace, wanting to quell his anxiety with the presence of other people. A breeze blew through the palms and small waves crashed against the wall, the shadows danced with excitement and the gull called into the wind again. The Barnacles remained fearless on the wall as he made his way towards the streets, clutching absently to the wall.

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Guy s look I practiced 

its supposed to explore imagination and kid fear (the ones I had at least LOL)

I guess I am publishing this to help get on track but sorry if it was crap aha