Sand Castles

Two weeks after the FISH descended from the sky, we went on our first family vacation. Before their arrival, the idea of going on holiday was a pipe dream; we never had the money and my parents never had the time. The aliens came promising salvation, an end to measly work, complete freedom under their stewardship, but those promises remained unfulfilled during those interim days. The In-Between, we called it, the time between arrival and the implementation of 'paradise.' My parents took them at their word, however, and they brought us to the beach with what little money they had. It wouldn’t matter soon anyway, they told me. They were right, of course.

We loaded up the one beat-up car we had, a blue ‘01 Civic that sputtered and whined but never quit, and drove two hours to the coast. It’s difficult to believe I had lived so close to the ocean but had never seen it. Not once in sixteen years. It's especially strange now after having lived on its shores for so long. It's hard to imagine a world without the calming crash of waves, the pungent, nostalgic scent of brine. I don't blame my parents for waiting so long to take me. Every day was a struggle to provide, and a trip to the beach wasn’t exactly essential. Nonetheless, I envied my brother. To be a child, to play in the sand without worry... And more than anything he didn’t have that shadow, that uncertainty, hovering over him, burning holes into his back. He was a kid, innocent and free.

“I’m gonna build a sand castle!” my brother said as he wiggled and squirmed next to me in the car. He repeated his mantra over and over as if each mile marker brought with it a wave of amnesia that made him forget he had already told us his vacation plans.

We arrived at the beach shortly after noon and found it packed with people of every shape and size. It was a warm July afternoon; the sky was clear and a subtle breeze tickled at my skin. It is a strange feeling seeing the ocean for the first time. Looking out onto an empty expanse of water was almost unsettling, but undeniably thrilling. Out there, in the open sea, another world breathed, alive with creatures foreign and concealed. The world never felt so big. The sky was a mirror reflecting that uncertain, salty promise.

We walked along the water’s edge and soon found enough room for two beach towels and our wicker basket between them. We arranged our things and ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch. We watched people scream with delight as they tackled the waves while others sat dour under their drooping umbrellas. That was how it was during the In-Between: some embraced a free future, and others thought it yet another shackle of misery. Hard to say who was right. My brother quickly devoured his sandwich, grabbed his small plastic pail and shovel, and ran down to an empty space near the water a few yards away. My parents laughed as they watched him construct his castle. I like to believe that they were happy, truly happy for once, watching their son build something great. Eventually they turned their minds off and laid in the sun without care for the first time in decades.

I went to the water timid and shy. It was an impressive beast of a thing, the sea. It lapped at my heels, then my knees, and before I knew it I was fully embraced. I planted my feet in the sand and felt little fish nibble at my toes, the gentle press of the current as it tried to knock me over. I had never felt so present. A small piece of a puzzle put in its rightful place. And still, there was a stirring of fear. The water could take me, pull me deeper into its bosom and smother me. A shark could take a bite. A jellyfish could sting. So many things whipped through my mind but the excitement, my connection, won out. It was all so alive, and I, too, had found my place.

I turned my sight to the shore and saw my brother working laboriously at his castle building. Four towers stood at each corner, connected by thick outer walls. Protruding from the middle was one giant spire of a seemingly lighter shade of stone. Lines had been carved around the walls and towers, and a comically large gate had been etched onto the side of the wall facing the ocean. Portholes were spaced out along the facade and I imagined little medieval people peeking out at the sea, weary and tired from a long day’s work. The sun caught on little fragments of stone and the light shined as though the walls were made of polished granite. It was the most glorious sand castle I’d ever seen, not that I’d seen many, admittedly. All of my brother’s love, all his passion, was poured into this masterpiece. His tongue poked out the side of his mouth as he dug a moat around the castle.

A little boy walked up to my brother and caught his attention. The boy was probably around six or so, just like my brother, and he was pointing at the castle. My brother pointed down at the moat and the little boy smiled before dropping to his knees. They worked together on the moat and laughed and squealed as children do. The moat was deep and began to fill with water, which set off a new round of joyous squeaks.

I let the sea sweep me off my feet and I floated along its rhythm. I closed my eyes and let my mind empty. The FISH, my parents, the world… It all drifted away with the waves… The peace of unthought, a ceasing of the mind's chatter... An ear piercing scream pulled me back to the sand.

The little boy stood above my brother, the northeast tower of his castle caved in. My brother screamed and begged the boy to stop. He scrambled to his feet and pushed the boy, who fell down onto the western tower. The surrounding walls shattered as if under volley fire, and a chunk of the center spire broke free. I ran to the shore as quickly as I could. My parents were lying on their backs and soaking up the sun, unaware of what was happening.

When I arrived, the boys were yelling at each other. I pushed them apart and asked them what had happened, to which, unsurprisingly, I got two different answers. Sick of little boys trying to place blame on one another, I scolded and separated them. They both wanted to work on the castle, but I couldn’t trust them to not fight. Begrudgingly, I sat down near them and allowed them to get back to it under my supervision.

The castle was repaired quickly enough and the boys were soon smiling and laughing again like nothing had ever happened. I wanted to return to the waves, but I couldn’t let my brother’s day be ruined. He wanted to build a sand castle, and I wouldn’t let anything stop him. 

The castle became more splendid than ever, and the people around us started to take notice. Children stared in amazement and offered their assistance. Parents congratulated their hard work. My brother would run up to our parents periodically, they'd look over at the castle lazily and give a word of dismissive affirmation, and then he'd run back to the castle eagerly. The work never seemed to end. He and the other children giggled as they danced around and created miniature villages in the shadow of my brother’s work.

He looked up at me and thanked me profusely for my help, a large smile plastered to his face. I’ll never forget the pure joy he exuded that day. Though some say the FISH took all purpose away, I found some solace in preserving his smile, at least, in preserving his memory. Even now, so many years after my brother took himself away, I can feel his presence. I can see his smile so clearly.

Hours later, we gathered our belongings and walked back to our car. We loaded everything up, and then my brother realized he’d left his shovel and pail behind. It was just a cheap dollar store set but it meant the world to him, so I went back to the beach to look for it. When I got down to the water, I found the sand castle completely destroyed. A lump of sand and a broken pail a yard or two away were all that remained of my brother's triumph. I looked around for the little boy, but he was nowhere to be seen. I picked up the pail and walked back to the car cursing in frustration.

I hid the pail from his sight and put it in the trunk of the car. He’d find out sooner or later that it was broken and the shovel was lost, but that could wait. I wouldn’t let anything ruin the day for him. The car ride home was filled with castle-building techniques, giddy bragging, and laughter. All of us fed off his energy and we laughed and joked along with him, acting as his royal servants, calling him "King" and "Your Majesty." The FISH seemed like a distant memory, a nightmare that had finally, thankfully, begun to fade. Later, my brother would find that broken pail and he'd cry and cry, but not now. No, in that car nothing mattered but us; the sand castle was never destroyed, and those aliens never came.

In my brother’s memory, the sand castle lives on. The building is over and he will never work on it again, but it will remain. Countless families will come and go, gawking at the glory of his kingdom. It will stand as a testament to his achievement, a mark of his greatness. I will be there to stand over and protect it, even if my shadow eats at its beauty. Under my watch, no little boy will kick sand castles again.