Monday May 12th, 2014

The exercise:

Write something that has to do with: sand.

Montreal won game six at home this evening, sending their second round series back to Boston for a deciding game seven. Go Canuc... er, Canadiens go!

Kat, Max, and I went over to the home of our bakery friends for a potluck dinner tonight. Their son, who turns two in July, plays pretty well with our little guy and it's always fun to see the two of them together.

Back to the strawberries tomorrow.


The castle stands watch over an empty beach lit by the fading rays of the setting sun. A light breeze dislodges a few grains of sand from the northwest tower as rolling waves lightly slap the shore a safe distance away.

Hidden in the shadows of the tree line at the edge of the beach, I watch and I wait. If my information is correct - and I have no reason to doubt it - then this scene will not remain quiet and unoccupied for much longer.

There is a gun tucked into the waistband at the small of my back but I'm hoping that it won't be needed. I've hoped that before though, in situations very much like this one. I wish I could say that those wishes came true.

If I didn't know better I'd think the sand castle was created by children with little interest in accurate architecture. Each tower is a different height, the moat is much too narrow. The citadel itself sags on one side, leaving it with the appearance of a discarded garbage bag.

Of course there's a good reason for that feature: an object has been secreted away inside it. I'm not sure what, precisely, it is, but I intend to find out.

But first I need my expected guests to arrive.


Greg said...

You went to a potluck dinner and tell us neither what you took with you, nor what was there to eat? I guess this means that it was all good though!
Hmm, I confess that I was expecting someone to be living in your sandcastle by the half-way point of your story, but I think you've made it more interesting still. Especially with the hint of something hidden in there....

In hindsight, thought Counsellor Troy De'Anna, filling the kiddie's sandpit with psychotropic sand should have been an obviously bad idea. Quite why the Kindergarten leader had done it was now a matter for the psychiatrists on the secure ward to figure out, while he, Troy, was left with trying to make sure that the children weren't obviously traumatised before being returned to their parents. His attention returned to Abisnail, whose parents were apparently illiterate. Abisnail, dressed in a black binbag with holes cut out for arms, was drawing a picture using red crayon. It showed a Godzilla-like monster rearing out of the desert and consuming what could only be the Burq Khalifa.
"Abby," said Troy, hoping that her name would get her attention. She humphed, letting him know that she'd heard him, but that her art was more important. "Did you play with the silvery sand?"
Abisnail looked up, her face radiant. "It was amazing sand," she said, spitting slightly with the force with which she said her sibilants. "It came to life and it eated John!"
"It eated John," repeated Troy, checking the list of missing children. "John Thorry?"
"Uh-huh," said Abby, returning to her drawing now that they weren't talking about the sand anymore.
"Did he leave after that?"
"No silly, he was eated!"
"He went into the sand and never came out?"
"Yes. Eated."
Troy sighed. Carnivorous psychotropic sand. Who in their right mind would put that in a kindergarten?

Marc said...

Greg - ah yes, sorry about that! Kat made a yam and tomato curry, our hosts made a couple of pizzas and barbequed a chicken, and there were a couple of salads as well. Lots of yum.

Something living in my castle would have been a good option, and I'm sad that I didn't think of it.

Highly enjoyed... everything about yours. From the names to the dialogue to the descriptions of what actually happened. Excellent work!