‘The beach is deserted, and it’s so cold I have to clench my jaw to stop my teeth chattering. I walk quickly along the shingle, past the beach huts, so pretty in daylight but now sinister, each one of them a hiding place. When the wind picks up they come alive, their wooden boards creaking against each other, and under the sound of the sea there are murmurs of movement: someone or something coming closer. I turn back, I start to run.’
Frighteningly good, even if not strictly allegory, metaphor or simile.