My feet were beginning to hurt. A throbbing pain that ached with the same rhythm of the shore rising up and down. 

When I looked ahead, it seemed infinite, just an island of sand going further and further until it converged into a line. At the very end of the sand lay a speck of red, a single dot, and that's where we were heading. 

The lighthouse. 

For the whole time we had been walking before the red speck, the dot, it never seemed to get bigger or even change at all. It never seemed as if we were getting closer; it just felt like an infinite walk. But now we were here, and for a moment, just a moment, I could make out the faint image of a red line under that speck. 

Before, when we started, I was happily running up and down the bank of sand into and out of the water, but now I lacked the energy to do so and had no urge like I did before. Now my legs were tired, and my mind was only focused on getting there, getting to the faint red dot in the far distance. 

I remember the seaweed and how it clumped together in groups scattered along the shore near the water. There was also a fierce cold wind that you could hear hitting the sand and going down the bank. I was tired, but I would not have wished for water because of the intense cold wind that overtook all other sounds.

 While I walked, it only got worse, and at the same time better because I could finally see the red lighthouse in the distance taking shape. Each step had an intense contrast between the pain of my feet and the hope of getting closer to the lighthouse. When I looked behind me, I could see the lush green of trees, and grass covered by shadow from the trees, shielding it from the sun. Now the trees and green behind me had felt farther than the red in front of me, which had transformed from a dot to a defined structure, a lighthouse. 

After a few minutes, the sun had cleared from above the clouds, and the wind began to settle. Now there was even more to see: a pathway that led up to the small white door of the lighthouse, a burned-down cabin with displaced logs caused by a windstorm, and wooden stands holding up plaques that told about the story of this place. Something else was also visible, and that was the rising of the tide. Every night, the tide took the sandy strip of land and sank it under its cold surface; now you could see the bank of sand slowly getting smaller. We would have more than enough time to get back, but still the sight was scary. 

This memory is strong in my mind because whilst I was walking towards the lighthouse that we wanted to see, I got to spend time talking with my family. I also got to stay strong while I was struggling and that taught me a lesson about always persevering even when it is hard to continue.

By Nicholas Zuniga

The sunset

As the sun sets, my eyes blur as the sun's rays dash back and the sky gets pinkish. The sky has dashes of pink and blue all around as it starts getting dark. Standing on top of the roof, I decide to go down as I saw my grandma walking with her clothes towards the house. 

Walking down towards the 1st floor, the concrete along the walls feels like thick cloth. Downstairs, I smell the smell of cooking vegetables like cucumber, carrots, and celery. My grandma comes along and places the steaming stew for me to enjoy. The heat and smell of the stew flare my nostrils open. 

Eating the stew was like being in a steamy sauna as I felt warm and well. Looking outside, I saw my cousins playing around like grasshoppers, happily jumping around. Walking outside, the sky was dark as the lights around the area turned on, blinding my eyes as they adjusted. Seeing the large white moon rise, I go inside as I see the lights on and decide to go to sleep. 

Sleeping like a log as the darkness consumes me and I start dreaming. Seeing myself at an airport, then the capital of Mexico, and then here. Suddenly, I felt like I was falling, and my body jerked itself up, and it was still dark. My eyes were burning like I was staring into the sun, and I saw the moon still up but close to daytime. Waking up only feels like it's been minutes as the sky is dark gray now. Standing up as my legs ache and I stumble trying to catch myself as I try balancing myself. Opening the door as it creaks and swings, and seeing that my sister hasn't woken up, I decide to go up. Walking up and taking each step was the equivalent of running. My legs were tired, trying with enough courage to make it to the top. Finally, at the top, and seeing the edge of the roof. Getting close and grabbing the walls at the edge, and seeing it. The sun is rising again.

By Joe Tlacotzi