there’s a girl standing by the crashing waves, and tears starts rolling down her cheeks. the perfect sandcastle that stood cenimetres away was washed gone. there was nothing she could do. she thought about her life. it seemed the same.
She gazed out the window and beheld the snowy ground. It was negative 23 degrees outside, and yet in her mind, she was at the beach. Not that she was wishing she was there, or that she was in her happy place, but she really was there. See, Laurie was not a normal fifteen year old girl, for Laurie’s window was barred and in Laurie’s mind, she really did see sandcastles and children playing, young couples flirting in the water, and families enjoying a day in the sun. For this, they deemed her crazy, unfit for society and unable to care for herself. But she knew the truth. She just saw what no one else could see. And she watched sadly as the tide came and took the beautiful sandcastles with it, and in time, she came back to the present where there was nothing but snow and cold that penetrated deep into her heart.
I like to build sandcastles. But I don’t like it when sand gets in my mouth or in my booty. My sandcastles always get wrecked by the waves. This makes me sad. I have never built a really great sand castle. They always fall down.
There’s a photo of him at the beach, on his knees, digging his hands into the soft sand, making a sandcastle with his best friend’s child. I keep staring at that picture, keep looking at his knees. His white knees. The knees that get close to mine every night, miles away from that ocean.
don’t build it too close to the shore, it will be gone in no time. come back here, where the water might be by late afternoon. see the water line here where the debris is. yes, that’s better. now what was the style you wanted to use? bring the buckets!
Ok, here goes. I’ve got an image of a sandcastle in my mind. Sunny skies, salty skin, seagulls shrieking above. But not a story about a sandcastle. Damn you, writer’s block. Be gone.
The sandcastle was a reminder that all goes away quickly and without a trace. We are all dust and as much as we would like to think that we will be remembered, one day everyone who knew us will also die and our memory will be gone. A sandcaste
I’ve never been to the beach before. I know it seems like a weird thing to fixate on, but I’ve never been to the beach before. I’ve been swimming what seems like millions of times and I’ve gone fishing and I’ve built sandcastles and all kinds of other things you do at the beach but I’ve never actually been to the beach.
Understand, love
cannot save –
It cannot heal
it does not fix
– what you need
is to understand
that your sadness is not beautiful.
there is no one
who can pull poetry
from inside your body
who can writes books
about the way you stare
out the window.
you
are all there is
in this world and all,
so wear your hair tight
– the higher up
the closer to the gods,
old and new –
and knock sandcastles
into the see
so you can see,
that
you are powerful.
I always heard more about sand castles than built them although I do remember now sitting in the sand, dry and hot and at other times cold. packed, damp, and shaping walls and turrets with my small hands. Remember? Maybe I just imagined that now. So many people speak of building sand castles. Are our dreams sand castles, easily knocked over by circumstance. Maybe. Sometimes. Sometimes not.
Gritty bits of crushed up shell and rock were plastered on her face. Her little dimples were filled with the stuff. She grinned wide, her missing teeth like windows into the cave that was her mouth.
“Mommy, I made a castle!”
That pile of sand was slowly washed away by the incoming tide, but the only thing that mattered was that her smile was echoed in her mother’s gaze.
It was taking way too long. The water wasn’t holding the sand together, it kept falling apart.
“What is this,” she growled out in annoyance. Dropping the bucket, she stood up and breathed in the seaside air. The beach was nice.
In an attempt to ignore how horny I was at the time, I spent my free hours building a sandcastle. In the end, because I never ever EVER found anyone who wanted to engage in sexual activity with me to pull me away from my obsessive sandcastle building, the sandcastle was super incredibly amazingly agonizingly annoyingly detailed. People called it the greatest sandcastle in the world and I won several awards. However, I wanted to bash my head against every single mirror I ever looked into. Not only because of all that happened but also because of my poor command of the English language resulting from my rotting rotting brain. Lord help me.
It wasn’t very sunny but warm enough to go down for a walk on the beach. Even at our mature years we managed to settle down on the beach to build a rather wobbly sandcastle.
I never love the idea of building sandcastle when ever I got the chance to visit the beach. To me it was too time consuming and little fun. The sight of the waves crashing into the shore, or taking a swim was more relaxing and gratifying.
i like to build sand castles . the sea is my favourite place in the whole world. in its shores, i spent my childhood collecting sea shells, catching crabs and building sandacastles. the waves would come and wash them off before i even complete my task.i’d begin all over again.
She’s building sandcastles and armories and walls, walls, walls above his head. He thought he could break through them, make them crumble, hear him roar, but she’s deaf to his cries. And the sand forms hallways, the dust rises up into towers and spears. The gravel crackle under his feet as he walks, walks, walks. It doesn’t end. It never ends, the crumbling hallways, the specs of dust in bleak sunlight.
Tiny little grains, producing something great just by sticking together, putting their faith in friction. That’s all life is, sandcastles. You produce something great, but you realize that you put it too close to shore, and by high tide, it’s all gone.
10 seconds. I ran, hearing the scrapping and hissing from behind me. Plasma shots and burns were following me closely. 7 seconds. I get to the top of the stairs and burst threw the rooftop door. I quickly jam the door with a pipe and run toward the end of the building and jump. 5 seconds. Shev is waiting right on queue below. We make our escape just as they burst the door open screaming as they fire blindshots at our ship. 3… 2… 1… The bomb I planted was experimental and was presumed to be the only way of stopping their production. The sight. There was no flash. Just a stillness in mind and in sound. Then everything just fell apart. On a molecule level. Like staring at a sandcastle on the beach, when a wave just washes it back into the ground.
It felt like my entire imagination had come to life before my eyes. The tower was growing, higher and higher, and I all wanted to do was crawl inside my childhood dreams, but the water crept up like a tornado on the horizon as I watched with a tick of fear.
I lloved to build sandcastles as a child. There are so many talented individuals in the world that have gone way beyond the standard sand castle created by a bucket mold. It truly is an art that is to be admired by all
At the edge of the shore, Dexter was lost in himself. He tunnelled and pushed and patted and moulded the sand into a magnificent fortress at least 8 foot long on one side. He had used shells and sticks and plastic debris to make doors and gates and windows and a stable for the unicorn. He was busying himself with the installation of an elaborate moat when a goatee afflicted adolescent, with half a brain if any at all, darted out of the water and launched himself fair at the sandcastle.
It is now 1 lonely degree out there. The snowflakes are getting ready to fall on top of your head. Here I am thinking about summer – beaches, spontaneous trips to downtown, sunshine and happy days. The memories will be forever carved in my heart, the way you held my hands while making the sandcastles, the times you raced me to the bus and subway stops, the little winks you did when you saw me and the tricks you pulled just to give me a peck on my cheeks. Summer wouldn’t be the same without you.
Watered down sand, dripped in tiny circular motions all across the top of the sandcastle. We wanted to live in them, they were so beautiful. But in hours, they’d be washed away.
they built sandcastles in the dark. the air was cooler then, the air was calmer. it was quiet and peaceful and each grain of sand seemed more eager to come together and be a part of something beautiful. under the light of the moon and the scattered stars, they always built their sandcastles in the dark.
There are pretty little girls playing in sandcastles, and they taste salt air like it’s candy, and mold with their hands like they tiny Michelangelos sitting in the breeze.
I walked down the beach looking at the creations with a sense of awe. Each sandcastle more stunning than the last. Some had food dye spray painted for effect; others shingled their turrets with shells or pebbles. One had tiny flags perched upon their towers; another, a drawbridge made from a unguarded flipflop found on the beach. When I sat down to begin, I felt their eyes upon me, heard their mocking comments, yet I held back my anger. This far up the beach such a competition seemed foolish. There was no challenge, no risk of waves reaching out for victims to pull helplessly into the hungry surf, no hope for the sand manipulations to return to their native free-flowing state anytime soon. To me it felt like sacrilege.
My hands plunged into the damp sand pile, pushing and pulling it not up, but down and across. From the fenced in square of beach, I extricated a water lizard. She was long, sleek, angled, poised for battle against the unnatural village of arrogant sand mansions littering the horizon before her. They didn’t understand my ‘entry’ and mocked me as I left the beach with them to await the decision tomorrow.
Morning came all too slowly, but I was not disappointed by the proceedings. When the investigative uniforms finally finished, they opened the gates; we flooded the path to see the carnage from the night before. They were all gone–castles, towers, mansions, moats. Only ruins remained in the fenced enclosure except for one creation. Its bloated body bordered on cartoonish, but no cartoon had ever been created of sand before that I could recall. A huge fattened sea creature, with feet and tail reminiscent of my lizard from the other end of the display zone, sat alone and motionless on the shore… the tip of an oddly familiar flip-flop sticking out from the clenched jaws of its mouth.
Sand pulled close around her feet as the tide washed way. It reminded her of when she was little and snuggled up into her blanket, getting so close it was hard to find the space between herself and the blanket.
Another wave washed up, spreading the sand covering her feet. As it washed away, it pulled her castle out with it.
Who was she? She always built herself up and told everyone she met that she was strong. Nothing could break her—at least that’s what she thought. Her walls were made of stone, until one day…he came into her life and everything changed. He made her into a sandcastle—weak at the knees, willing to crumble, and unafraid to risk being washed away into the depths of time.
The little girl smiled, the sun glistening off her already sunburned cheeks. The sand was caked sloppily on her hands. Her mother lay bathing in the sun behind her and the little girl smiled. From my point of view they looked like the perfect little family of two.
I finished, watched you as you looked up. I tugged at your shirt, and you knew I was done. I could feel the sand dance in my feet, and the warmth of the sun hug me. And you looked down at me, and it felt like the sun, the sea and the ocean were all here because of you. Your soft words, surrounded them me as you said, “What a beautiful sandcastle.”
The tide came in and lapped up against the sides of the intricate sandcastle the kids built along the shoreline. Only now as the tide came in was the structure in danger of any attack. Plastic soldiers could do it no harm, but now the water is ripping away it sides… only now.. the water washes the canvas clean yet again.
Built on wet foundations, with nothing to actually keep it protected from the inevitable waves that drew nearer, Jon created his sandcastle. The cyclical process of the tide meant Jon could not accept what was going to happen, yet at the same time understood completely that there was nothing he could do about. In a way, he looked forward to it. Despite this, he took a final look at his finished sandcastle, and destroyed it with a lazy flick of his arm.
there’s a girl standing by the crashing waves, and tears starts rolling down her cheeks. the perfect sandcastle that stood cenimetres away was washed gone. there was nothing she could do. she thought about her life. it seemed the same.
She gazed out the window and beheld the snowy ground. It was negative 23 degrees outside, and yet in her mind, she was at the beach. Not that she was wishing she was there, or that she was in her happy place, but she really was there. See, Laurie was not a normal fifteen year old girl, for Laurie’s window was barred and in Laurie’s mind, she really did see sandcastles and children playing, young couples flirting in the water, and families enjoying a day in the sun. For this, they deemed her crazy, unfit for society and unable to care for herself. But she knew the truth. She just saw what no one else could see. And she watched sadly as the tide came and took the beautiful sandcastles with it, and in time, she came back to the present where there was nothing but snow and cold that penetrated deep into her heart.
I like to build sandcastles. But I don’t like it when sand gets in my mouth or in my booty. My sandcastles always get wrecked by the waves. This makes me sad. I have never built a really great sand castle. They always fall down.
There’s a photo of him at the beach, on his knees, digging his hands into the soft sand, making a sandcastle with his best friend’s child. I keep staring at that picture, keep looking at his knees. His white knees. The knees that get close to mine every night, miles away from that ocean.
“When was the last time you were at the beach?” he said.
“I was nine,” she replied. “My dad and I built a sandcastle.”
“You haven’t been back to the beach in twenty-five years?”
She shook her head. “After the sandcastle, he had a heart attack and fell on it. He died. I can’t stand beaches now.”
Sandcastle in the sky, so fragile, but yet crystaline, just glimpses of glimmering quartz. Like millimeter diamonds.
don’t build it too close to the shore, it will be gone in no time. come back here, where the water might be by late afternoon. see the water line here where the debris is. yes, that’s better. now what was the style you wanted to use? bring the buckets!
Ok, here goes. I’ve got an image of a sandcastle in my mind. Sunny skies, salty skin, seagulls shrieking above. But not a story about a sandcastle. Damn you, writer’s block. Be gone.
I like to build sand castles on the beach. I liked to do it when I was little.
When I was young, I would build close to the shore and be sad when the tide came in and washed away my sand castle.
Now that I’m older, I don’t build them so close to the shore.
The sandcastle was a reminder that all goes away quickly and without a trace. We are all dust and as much as we would like to think that we will be remembered, one day everyone who knew us will also die and our memory will be gone. A sandcaste
I’ve never been to the beach before. I know it seems like a weird thing to fixate on, but I’ve never been to the beach before. I’ve been swimming what seems like millions of times and I’ve gone fishing and I’ve built sandcastles and all kinds of other things you do at the beach but I’ve never actually been to the beach.
Understand, love
cannot save –
It cannot heal
it does not fix
– what you need
is to understand
that your sadness is not beautiful.
there is no one
who can pull poetry
from inside your body
who can writes books
about the way you stare
out the window.
you
are all there is
in this world and all,
so wear your hair tight
– the higher up
the closer to the gods,
old and new –
and knock sandcastles
into the see
so you can see,
that
you are powerful.
I always heard more about sand castles than built them although I do remember now sitting in the sand, dry and hot and at other times cold. packed, damp, and shaping walls and turrets with my small hands. Remember? Maybe I just imagined that now. So many people speak of building sand castles. Are our dreams sand castles, easily knocked over by circumstance. Maybe. Sometimes. Sometimes not.
Gritty bits of crushed up shell and rock were plastered on her face. Her little dimples were filled with the stuff. She grinned wide, her missing teeth like windows into the cave that was her mouth.
“Mommy, I made a castle!”
That pile of sand was slowly washed away by the incoming tide, but the only thing that mattered was that her smile was echoed in her mother’s gaze.
sandcastle is a castle made from sand. It is usually found in beaches. certain artists are experts in making these.
It was taking way too long. The water wasn’t holding the sand together, it kept falling apart.
“What is this,” she growled out in annoyance. Dropping the bucket, she stood up and breathed in the seaside air. The beach was nice.
In an attempt to ignore how horny I was at the time, I spent my free hours building a sandcastle. In the end, because I never ever EVER found anyone who wanted to engage in sexual activity with me to pull me away from my obsessive sandcastle building, the sandcastle was super incredibly amazingly agonizingly annoyingly detailed. People called it the greatest sandcastle in the world and I won several awards. However, I wanted to bash my head against every single mirror I ever looked into. Not only because of all that happened but also because of my poor command of the English language resulting from my rotting rotting brain. Lord help me.
It wasn’t very sunny but warm enough to go down for a walk on the beach. Even at our mature years we managed to settle down on the beach to build a rather wobbly sandcastle.
I never love the idea of building sandcastle when ever I got the chance to visit the beach. To me it was too time consuming and little fun. The sight of the waves crashing into the shore, or taking a swim was more relaxing and gratifying.
i like to build sand castles . the sea is my favourite place in the whole world. in its shores, i spent my childhood collecting sea shells, catching crabs and building sandacastles. the waves would come and wash them off before i even complete my task.i’d begin all over again.
She’s building sandcastles and armories and walls, walls, walls above his head. He thought he could break through them, make them crumble, hear him roar, but she’s deaf to his cries. And the sand forms hallways, the dust rises up into towers and spears. The gravel crackle under his feet as he walks, walks, walks. It doesn’t end. It never ends, the crumbling hallways, the specs of dust in bleak sunlight.
Tiny little grains, producing something great just by sticking together, putting their faith in friction. That’s all life is, sandcastles. You produce something great, but you realize that you put it too close to shore, and by high tide, it’s all gone.
10 seconds. I ran, hearing the scrapping and hissing from behind me. Plasma shots and burns were following me closely. 7 seconds. I get to the top of the stairs and burst threw the rooftop door. I quickly jam the door with a pipe and run toward the end of the building and jump. 5 seconds. Shev is waiting right on queue below. We make our escape just as they burst the door open screaming as they fire blindshots at our ship. 3… 2… 1… The bomb I planted was experimental and was presumed to be the only way of stopping their production. The sight. There was no flash. Just a stillness in mind and in sound. Then everything just fell apart. On a molecule level. Like staring at a sandcastle on the beach, when a wave just washes it back into the ground.
It felt like my entire imagination had come to life before my eyes. The tower was growing, higher and higher, and I all wanted to do was crawl inside my childhood dreams, but the water crept up like a tornado on the horizon as I watched with a tick of fear.
I lloved to build sandcastles as a child. There are so many talented individuals in the world that have gone way beyond the standard sand castle created by a bucket mold. It truly is an art that is to be admired by all
At the edge of the shore, Dexter was lost in himself. He tunnelled and pushed and patted and moulded the sand into a magnificent fortress at least 8 foot long on one side. He had used shells and sticks and plastic debris to make doors and gates and windows and a stable for the unicorn. He was busying himself with the installation of an elaborate moat when a goatee afflicted adolescent, with half a brain if any at all, darted out of the water and launched himself fair at the sandcastle.
You giant arse, Dexter cried.
Her expression wavers, giving her the impression of a sandcastle trembling when faced with an approaching wave.
It is now 1 lonely degree out there. The snowflakes are getting ready to fall on top of your head. Here I am thinking about summer – beaches, spontaneous trips to downtown, sunshine and happy days. The memories will be forever carved in my heart, the way you held my hands while making the sandcastles, the times you raced me to the bus and subway stops, the little winks you did when you saw me and the tricks you pulled just to give me a peck on my cheeks. Summer wouldn’t be the same without you.
Watered down sand, dripped in tiny circular motions all across the top of the sandcastle. We wanted to live in them, they were so beautiful. But in hours, they’d be washed away.
they built sandcastles in the dark. the air was cooler then, the air was calmer. it was quiet and peaceful and each grain of sand seemed more eager to come together and be a part of something beautiful. under the light of the moon and the scattered stars, they always built their sandcastles in the dark.
There are pretty little girls playing in sandcastles, and they taste salt air like it’s candy, and mold with their hands like they tiny Michelangelos sitting in the breeze.
I walked down the beach looking at the creations with a sense of awe. Each sandcastle more stunning than the last. Some had food dye spray painted for effect; others shingled their turrets with shells or pebbles. One had tiny flags perched upon their towers; another, a drawbridge made from a unguarded flipflop found on the beach. When I sat down to begin, I felt their eyes upon me, heard their mocking comments, yet I held back my anger. This far up the beach such a competition seemed foolish. There was no challenge, no risk of waves reaching out for victims to pull helplessly into the hungry surf, no hope for the sand manipulations to return to their native free-flowing state anytime soon. To me it felt like sacrilege.
My hands plunged into the damp sand pile, pushing and pulling it not up, but down and across. From the fenced in square of beach, I extricated a water lizard. She was long, sleek, angled, poised for battle against the unnatural village of arrogant sand mansions littering the horizon before her. They didn’t understand my ‘entry’ and mocked me as I left the beach with them to await the decision tomorrow.
Morning came all too slowly, but I was not disappointed by the proceedings. When the investigative uniforms finally finished, they opened the gates; we flooded the path to see the carnage from the night before. They were all gone–castles, towers, mansions, moats. Only ruins remained in the fenced enclosure except for one creation. Its bloated body bordered on cartoonish, but no cartoon had ever been created of sand before that I could recall. A huge fattened sea creature, with feet and tail reminiscent of my lizard from the other end of the display zone, sat alone and motionless on the shore… the tip of an oddly familiar flip-flop sticking out from the clenched jaws of its mouth.
Sand pulled close around her feet as the tide washed way. It reminded her of when she was little and snuggled up into her blanket, getting so close it was hard to find the space between herself and the blanket.
Another wave washed up, spreading the sand covering her feet. As it washed away, it pulled her castle out with it.
Who was she? She always built herself up and told everyone she met that she was strong. Nothing could break her—at least that’s what she thought. Her walls were made of stone, until one day…he came into her life and everything changed. He made her into a sandcastle—weak at the knees, willing to crumble, and unafraid to risk being washed away into the depths of time.
The little girl smiled, the sun glistening off her already sunburned cheeks. The sand was caked sloppily on her hands. Her mother lay bathing in the sun behind her and the little girl smiled. From my point of view they looked like the perfect little family of two.
Sandcastle on the beach
Sandcastle on the shore
In come the tidal waves,
Sandcastle no more
Big person in the city
Big person in the sky
Bigger person comes along
Little person now but why?
Kisses sweet like honey
Kisses sweet like milk
Kisses like the summertime
And dandelions and silk.
I finished, watched you as you looked up. I tugged at your shirt, and you knew I was done. I could feel the sand dance in my feet, and the warmth of the sun hug me. And you looked down at me, and it felt like the sun, the sea and the ocean were all here because of you. Your soft words, surrounded them me as you said, “What a beautiful sandcastle.”
The tide came in and lapped up against the sides of the intricate sandcastle the kids built along the shoreline. Only now as the tide came in was the structure in danger of any attack. Plastic soldiers could do it no harm, but now the water is ripping away it sides… only now.. the water washes the canvas clean yet again.
I was reminiscing about home earlier, missing the beach. And, then I began singing, “Sandcastles in the Sand,” to myself aloud.
Built on wet foundations, with nothing to actually keep it protected from the inevitable waves that drew nearer, Jon created his sandcastle. The cyclical process of the tide meant Jon could not accept what was going to happen, yet at the same time understood completely that there was nothing he could do about. In a way, he looked forward to it. Despite this, he took a final look at his finished sandcastle, and destroyed it with a lazy flick of his arm.