The
subjugating sandcastle was known for conquering all. He was self-righteous and
known for growing enraged, becoming vile and temperamental when he didn’t
immediately achieve the overpowering of hapless sandcastles, his overthrowing
goals. But with time he would quash them, squeeze them into the rough sand
dunes, never again to be formed, at least not very soon. For, their makers had
long gone home, the destroyed sandcastles which had existed were nothing to cry
over. They’d simply be tears over spilled milk, or salty tears into a saltier
ocean’s water.
Each day,
the emperor sandcastle – as he liked to call himself – who loved to subjugate and
decimate, would select a new target, a fresh sandcastle made and now basking in
the sun, to vanquish this new victim, for him it was terribly thrill-causing;
in fact, it was outrageously fun. Because he would jump upon them, mash them
into a pile of unformed grains, then kick them aside, and perform this all
again. No one knew exactly why and what caused the emperor to become temperamental,
but he was out of his mind when he destroyed innocent victims of the sandcastle
kind. When it came to enraged destroying, this sandcastle was not afraid.
He was
obsessed with power, wielding it all, dominations over the little men and sandcastle
women. They had performed no wrong, nothing at all had they done, that would
warrant the keen eye of the destroying emperor sandcastle he was. But still
they were targeted and demolished, one after the other, each day. The sandscape
would be reduced to a flattened scene, only showcasing the self-selected decimating
“emperor” who ruined with ease. He needed to be overthrown. His ending needed
to be on display.
One Saturday, there was a party held upon the emperor’s beach. At least fifteen children were in attendance, and as many castles were made before their creators would grow weary from the sun beating upon their eyes, when they would decide to leave. They left their sandcastle creations, decorated with seaweed pieces and little shells. One even had two little flags and a dead starfish, that was the feature piece of this constructed sandcastle, the most beautiful castle of them all. Her name was Marny, and boy, was her personality so sparkling, so effervescent, and downright funny! She was able to make jokes with the jocks, chat freely with the mathematic loving ‘nerds’. She could converse with the popular girls, and still be able to admit herself to conversation with every other boy sandcastle and sandcastle girl. In short, she was somewhat of a leader, though she was humble and didn’t acknowledge this herself. She was happy to be Marny; she was happy being herself.
But then
whispers came among the grains of sand, on the flatness of this land. There
apparently lurked and creeped a nasty individual, a power-hungry deluded
sandcastle who thought he was an emperor, who desired to beat down every
sandcastle that was here, near, and beyond there. His existence instilled into
the group of sandcastles great and overwhelming fear. However, Marny laughed
and pooh-poohed away this idea. Who had ever heard of a subjugating and
decimating sandcastle who quashed other beings with no sense of conscience, no
sense of fear? Certainly, she had not, not in her several hours of life upon
this beach. She was an intelligent being, but she needed to learn to fear.
Because here rounded Emperor now, crashing his sandy feet upon the land,
stirring the grains here and there, into their eyes, cyclonic in fashion they
traversed through the air.
The group
of castles could not see anymore, they were terrified, what was in store? Still
Marny called for calm, there was nothing to fear, they’d have to trust
themselves and have confidence inside themselves, this they must learn. Because
Marny wasn’t scared of death, or of being taken away or taken down. She knew
that if this apparent enemy of theirs took over them all, she could escape, he
would be the one next overthrown. Though, if he reduced her to nothing,
then she could accept that, being broken in this life was a given. Especially
so for a being made of sand, one cannot hope to forever exist on land.
“Come
together, brothers and sisters, and hold each other’s hands!” she yelled. And
join together they did. Their hearts beat frantically, hands shook terribly,
because aside from feeling, they’d lost their sense of sight, and there was
nothing to do except wait until their ending.
“I WILL
CRUSH YOU ALL!” a dominating voice bellowed, and then some stamping upon the
ground, and silence then came. “OR, I WILL BRING YOU UNDER MY CONTROL! WHAT IS
IT YOU WOULD LIKE MOST OF ALL?” Confused shrieks of “control” and “crush” came
from the mouths of them all. A shrill cackling and then: “OVERTHROW!” The
emperor turned upon his side and commenced a deathly roll. Soon the sandcastles
were in pieces, some sections still firm, hardened, the others collapsed into
piles of saddened sand. But this was all a dream of theirs, perhaps they had
been subjected to too much sun upon their heads.
With a
collective shake of their befuddled heads, they opened their eyes once again.
Everything was how they had left it, before they had closed their eyes. How
could this be reality, how could fifteen sandcastles experience the same dream
cycles? I cannot explain myself adequately but hark, what’s that sound? I can
hear Emperor’s returning deadly roll. Now, Marny smiled to herself. She had recited
to them the wrong bedtime story; her head was too full of imagination to remove
her sense of committed glory. Because as the quiet, unannounced leader of the
group, she had led them into a certain terrifying dream land. They would
understand the significant of her power and the meaning of Emperor’s wish to
overthrow others when they would grow older. She was really a wise soul: her
consciousness had been around for almost forever.
Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose 
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