Jack Jameson had wanted to visit Coral Beach for years, he was widely travelled but had never visited the rugged and remote north coast of Scotland. This was the chance he had been waiting for. A two-year posting to a nuclear research facility at Anstrachon on a wild northern headland. He had been working in the field of nuclear fusion physics since he left university and loved it. He told everyone that he stayed sane by spending every spare hour out of the laboratory walking, swimming, cycling. Pretty much anything that would take him outdoors. He was looking forward to his time at this facility.
Jack was delighted when soon after arriving he got the chance to visit Coral Beach. A colleague said they were organising a weekend walk ending with a barbecue. He was told that it was thought to be the most beautiful beach on the planet, how could he resist. It was a five-mile hike over wild boggy moorland but worth the effort.
The beach was stunning, not particularly wide or long. Set in a curving bay, the beach shelved steeply away into the azure blue water of the north Atlantic. The water was incredibly clear as there was no sand around and the sea bed was granite. There was no sand as the beach was made up of millions upon millions of pieces of broken pink shell, that went as deep as you could dig. It was breath-taking. The three friends scrambled down the boggy moorland cliff that led to the beach. They wandered around chatting just taking in the beauty and solitude of the place.
They had collected driftwood while they walked, and Jack had managed to get a fire going in the middle of the beach. The group were planning to stay the night and had a small camp set up. It was idyllic, the setting sun painting a vivid picture in the western sky. The pink shell beach changing colour by the second, the blazing fire casting yet more light around the camp.
There were two figures seated by the fire and one standing behind them all looking out to sea, they were still and silent. In fact, they were solid lifeless objects made of something resembling pink porcelain. Recognizable as men but smooth with a sheen like a porcelain doll. One by one through the night as the waves and wind caught them they cracked and crashed upon the beach breaking into thousands of tiny fragments, by morning they had gone just becoming a small part of this beautiful breath-taking life taking Coral Beach.