Sandcastles(Kevin A. Kimball) The perimeter wall was tall and strong. That’s where the defenses would hold the attackers at bay. But should they falter, a breach would simply pour into a wide courtyard where invaders would face the army that lay in wait. No shelter would protect the villains, and no quarter would be given.

The inner keep, majestic and mighty, would house not only the royal family, but the best and strongest of soldier and mage as well. They would gladly sacrifice their lives to protect king and country.

Any army foolish enough to descend upon this castle would do so under constant threat of arrow, stone, and spell barrage. The only thing that would ever breach these walls was the sunlight from the heavens that currently spilled into the golden courtyards.

And maybe the bigger kids.

The towheaded architect of this glorious keep never saw beyond his own lands, the quiet corner of beach he’d laid claim to over an hour before. It was quite a surprise to him as the body of a twelve-year-old boy crashed down upon his creation with a laugh, having made perhaps a spectacular catch, but all the boy saw was the ruinous aftermath.

The older kid climbed to his feet, toppling the last standing tower in the process, and proceeded to run back to his cheering friends. He was seemingly oblivious to the destruction and heartache he’d caused.

A week later, the bus load of children poured onto the sandy beach. Golden skinned boys and girls of five years up to fifteen ran amok, a few counselors in tow.

The towheaded boy of six was the last to depart the yellow bus. He stepped onto the sands and surveyed the beach. Not just anywhere would suffice for his newest creation.

Lessons had been learned over the previous weeks. Many a castle had been lost to rising tides and few had been lost to “commoner” foot-traffic. No, what the architect decided this time was that he needed a remote plot of land, far from boys throwing footballs.

He found absolute perfection near where the tall grass couldn’t venture onto the sands any further. The only problem was that he was much further from water than he’d like, but he liked the idea of making an oasis in the middle of a scorching desert.

He lay his towel on the small dunes at his feet, his way of unfurling his nation’s flag and laying claim to this remote, unexplored part of the world. After removing his shirt and shoes, he grabbed his pail and made the arduous journey toward the surf.

Several minutes later, the towheaded architect scurried hurriedly to his towel, his feet anxious to get off the hot sand. He managed to keep a lot of water in his pail, which he would need, but he now realized that his primary tool for making his towers and walls was filled with a vital component for making his primary building material. Not to be thwarted, he took his shovel and began digging into the loose sand of the beach. “Good” sand was further down than he’d expected, but this should hold his water for the time being. He emptied his pail into the hole and watched as the earth drank in his water within minutes.

The master architect didn’t waste his time, though. He worked with drive and purpose, erecting the foundation of his castle, the grandest he’d built to date. With each failed attempt he’d constructed over the summer, he’d learned valuable lessons. He knew which methods worked, and which led to ruin.

Several foot-scorching trips for water marked the stages of construction. The boy built a grand castle, topped with sticks that would serve to fly his flag. The mighty ramparts stood twice as high as past efforts and were easily double the thickness. A barracks was constructed on one side of the open courtyard, and a stables on the other. A northern watchtower found company with an eastern tower, followed by a southern tower. The western tower’s construction had just begun when it was time to make the final trek to the surf. The boy steeled himself and stepped out onto the scorching sands.

As he returned across the hot desert that lay between the ocean and his kingdom, he stopped dead in his tracks. His feet burned, but he didn’t care. Absolute destruction had once again descended upon the majesty of his mind. The towers were toppled, the ramparts were rubble, and the castle was a crater. The stables, the barracks, everything… gone.

A group of older boys laughed as they journeyed away from the once proud nation.

Two weeks passed before the architect had another shot at releasing his imagination upon the sands. The bus pulled up, the kids and camp counselors again spilled onto the beach, and the intrepid boy made for a mound before the edge of the sands. It was the high ground and best survey point on an otherwise flat terrain.

He gazed out upon the lands and watched as various nations lay claim to their own private plots with an unfurled beach blanket. Boys and girls waded into the surf as others formed cliques to comment on the goings on around them. Though there was plenty of open beach, the architect did not want to have to travel for water as he could vividly remember the pain his feet felt after last time.

Toward the end of the sandy expanse, he noticed that the other beachgoers didn’t journey beyond a certain point. Seeing no other real options within view, he decided to explore the new territory. Toolkit of pail and shovel in one hand, his nation’s colors draped over his shoulder, he set out for the beyond.

A long walk led the boy to a surprising discovery. Before him, a freshwater stream that cut through the beach and released into the ocean. This shallow stream would serve as a mighty river and a superb defense to one whole side of his new country. This location provided the architect all he needed to make his greatest kingdom of all.

The boy quickly dropped to his rear and pulled off his shoes, emptying the sand that had kicked up into them during his journey. He pulled his socks from his feet and turned his head before shaking the sand from them. He rolled the socks together, tucked them into his shoes, grabbed his footwear and toolkit, and negotiated the river.

Reaching the foreign shore, he dropped his tools and shoes and surveyed this new sovereign state. He knew exactly where everything was to go and how to make it. He pulled his colors from his shoulder and lay claim to these lands with as much pomp and circumstance as can be mustered by unfurling a beach towel.

Hours raced by in a matter of minutes.

From out of the sands grew pure majesty. A castle stretched into the heavens at three feet tall, towering over the walls that protected her on all sides. An expansive courtyard stretched to the first ramparts, which housed all manner of amenity within. A familiar stables and barracks were erected, alongside the addition of training facilities and smithy to produce weapons and siege equipment to aid in defense.

Beyond these walls, a city proper stretched down the hillside and around the inner keep. Homes and businesses where the people could thrive were constructed, and an equally grand wall stood to keep the citizens here safe. Four towers once again jutted up from this wall, with smaller watch towers erected between. Farmland and homes peppered the surrounding countryside, and a man-made stream circumnavigated the outer wall with bridges of sticks and stones spanning them.

He marveled at what he had created and finished.

After several minutes, the towheaded boy’s pride waivered. Something was missing, but he had a strong feeling that he knew what it was. He journeyed beyond his lands and up the mighty river, where he began gathering rocks in his pail. Once he had a load that made the plastic handle feel as though it would break, he followed the stream back to the kingdom.

The castle stood proudly above the river below, and the walls stood in defiance of those who should like to see them toppled. The people who occupied these walls would surely be enjoying their peaceful afternoon.

The rock that flew through the southern tower slammed into the inner wall with a muffled thud. It was enough to send the tower crashing onto the buildings below, decimating everything under it. The next rock found purchase in the outer wall, creating a crater within it, but not piercing all the way through. The next nicked the wall of the castle and flew over the walls, crashing into some of the surrounding farmland with a tumble.

The architect laughed as he lobbed stone after stone into the kingdom. Once the last of his ammunition was spent, he moved in to study the destruction, replaying the siege in his mind. Some holes were perfect in shape to the projectile that struck, while others had led to complete structural collapse. The architect hadn’t noticed the older boys standing across the stream at first, but when he looked up from his creation and destruction, he stood facing them in defiance. Chest proud, chin up, the boy stared into the eyes of each twelve-year-old. Without breaking his gaze, he dropped a foot into the center of the castle, leveling the once proud structure.

The boy withdrew his foot, and then himself. He picked up his pail, his shovel, and placed his shoes within the pail. Lastly, he threw his towel over his shoulder with a regal flair. He walked through the kingdom at his feet, a mighty conqueror, and down to the riverbank where he waded back to the lands from which he hailed. The older boys all splashed across the river and set upon the remains, toppling what still stood.

The young, towheaded boy of six smiled brightly, never looking back at the carnage unleashed, for he was wrapped in the thoughts of his next kingdom, and how much more magnificent it would be.

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