We are the remaining sentinels. Standing tall anchored by sand.
The sands have told us before our time ships had to anchor offshore and smaller boats would be rowed to show. More people came and the people decided boats needed to be able to dock and let people walk shore along wih their belongings.
People went into the forest and cut down our brothers the trees. Thick, tall trees they could cut off the branches, strip the bark and cut them into us. Some of us were longer than others. We had to be so we looked the same and the dock could be level.
Then they cut down more trees and made planks to build the dock on top of us. Buildings were built. People started to arrive. Ships glided alongside, ropes were thrown and gangways lowered.
The people who had endured the journey they had started from afar made their way off the ship and onto the pier. For some, they arrived to be reunited with loved ones and transported to awaiting homes. Others arrived, clutching their worldly belongings full of fear and trepidation of what was to happen in this new land.
Other ships would arrive bringing and picking up cargo to spread out around the wold we would never know except through the brief conversations we’d hear as they travelled across the path we gave them.
For many years we served as the sentinels holding up the pathway into the new world. Vital to the growth of the land but hardly noticed by those who walked our length. Thousands arried and spread out across the land.
We started to hear of something called airplanes. These machines who flew like birds. Slowly, the ships bringing people and cargo became fewer and fewer. Larger docks were built to handle larger ships. We sensed our days of usefulness were coming to an end.
Then the day came. Workers arrived, not to meet arriving ships. They arrived to dismantle the dock, leaving us as sentinels of the past standing tall in the water, held in place by our friends the sand.
The only life around us these days are birds, fish and sometimes people coming to picnic and walk around us. Unable to hear the stories we could share.
We will stand until the ends of time.
Shadowspub is a writer from Ontario, Canada. She writes on a variety of subjects as she pursues her passion for learning. She also writes on other platforms and enjoys creating books you use like journals, notebooks, coloring books etc.
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