Seagulls

They come in at false dawn, fingers tracing furrows through the sand as they stumble towards their graves, prints oddly misstepped with a weighting to the left. Always to the left.
All at once they stop, turn to the calming sea and sigh, their memories of the. Delicately and, deliberately, they sit and wait.

The never-ending battle to keep the tides coming in

Walking seaweed monsters that hold the ocean back? Something to do with that. As in, wake in the morning and walk along the beach and there's seaweed everywhere and where did it come from? Some sort of nightly ritual they have to perform to stop the ocean from taking over with the only outcome being their death on the shore. Seagulls removing any evidence of their existence. Tinfoil hats.
Not enough to work with for a full story? Even a thirty minute one... More a background character for a full story.


They come in at false dawn, fingers tracing furrows through the sand, prints unevenly misstepped as they wearily drag themselves out of the calming sea.
All at once they stop and, turning toward the dark ocean, they sigh. Delicately, they sit, stretching out upon the cold sand. Muscles begin to loosen, thoughts of the battle fade, the sky darkens as twilight approaches and the hearkening of angels sweeps in over the shore.

The angels feast on their rotting carcasses as the last salty remnants of their nightly struggle washes out to sea.