Castles Crumbling

By Julia Bush

Blood sits heavy on an empty stomach, I thought bitterly as the crimson pool around me expanded. My insides howled with pain, yet I lay motionless, listless in my doomed state. The sticky sand embalmed me while the turmoil in my intestines raged in a battle between empty, gnawing pain and boiling, tumultuous nausea.

Crusted blood covered my face and left me stiff. It stung against my raw skin, which was burned by the unceasing sun that crawled toward the horizon. My eyes wandered across the sky, taking in the bloody hues smeared across the clouds. As the heat of day waned, a cold breeze shrouded me with gentle chills.

A wave prickled my sore feet, as if to remind me of the life in the ocean beyond; the waxing and waning of the restless waters deafened my ears. The rising tide was a lion roaring over its prey; the waves growled menacingly in my ears. The ocean was merciless. My certainty of this fact grew with each halfhearted caress of the sickly seafoam.

Meanwhile, the gulls overhead called out their sober lament. I appreciated the mournful dirge from these retreating fowl. However, they would eventually leave me to return to their nests for the evening. Like the ocean, they mocked me with the reminder that life goes on. I knew that this would not be the case for me, as my cracked skin ached, and my body gave in to the chills of fever.

I longed to drag myself away from the rising tide, but the exhaustion radiating from my bones left me petrified in what I knew would be my final resting place. I lay helpless as the sand shifted beneath my weight, slowly enveloping me in a tomb. Only the creatures of the coast would pay their respects to me here.

My head fell to the side so that I could get a last glimpse of my efforts. Just paces away, the castle stood defenseless. The tide was rolling in, and soon, my enemy would overtake my beloved kingdom. Emotion grew in my chest and escaped with a sigh. I am defeated.

“Why aren’t you pinching your nose?!” My mother stood above me with one hand on her hip and the other shading her face from the sun.

I groaned in response.

“Sit up and tilt your head back.” I complied as my mother knelt next to me and rifled through her beach bag. She pulled out packages of fruit snacks, sunscreen, aloe, her latest “beach read,” and a pair of plastic sunglasses shaped like daisies before locating a towelette.

“Aha!” Mother exclaimed, before unfolding the towelette and scrubbing the blood from my burning face. I whined as the sand scratched my sunburn. “This wouldn’t hurt so much if you had reapplied sunscreen when I told you.”

I watched her freckled face and weathered hands swim in and out of view, then my gaze shifted to my sparkly jelly sandals. I wiggled my little piggies inside their silicone prison, feeling the sand scrape between my toes. When she was done, I sourly resumed pinching my nose. Mother handed me a bottle and said, “Drink more water. When you’re done, why don’t you grab your things and help me pack the car.”

Mother stood, slinging her bag on her shoulder before walking off. Once the blood had congealed all the way up to my brain, I pulled my weight onto shaking legs. I began brushing the sand off my pink tutu before surveying the beach for my plastic bucket and shovel, spotting them a few paces away. The bucket was carelessly strewn on its side while the shovel was buried in the sand next to my castle. The futility of my toils became evident as my creation crumbled, grain by grain into the ocean. The last reminders of my day at the beach.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Julia Bush, competitive by nature, was inspired by her husband’s success with Havok and decided to try publishing her own stories. She shares an equal love for literary fiction and fantasy, hoping to blend the best of the two into her own writing. When she’s not typing, Julia spends her free time cross-stitching, painting, baking, and disagreeing with her two dogs’ life choices.