They lined the beach as the sun set, hundreds of sand castles. Some had already crumbled through accident, improper construction or malicious destruction. Others stood plain but proud. A fair number were ornate affairs, adorned with shells and flying flags at full mast.
It was those closest to the tide ocean that fell first, eroded and swept away by the lapping of the tides. The waves encroached up the beach, starting to build in fervor over their first few victories. As the sun started to dip its lower half into the ocean, staining the sky red, the sea became bolder.
Fiercely and more violently did it charge forth, foam being the prelude to consumption by water. Walls were ground down by the action of the tides, small trinkets and ornaments swept out as it claimed its tokens of victory. Tiny flags, bright in the night, flew in defiance to the ocean as they held to the last.
As froth splashed against the last castle’s walls, the inhabitants knew one thing in their hearts. As pelts of water struck against the inner walls, they found solace in that fact. And as the tide started to build to a crescendo as it sought to end the siege, they huddled together satisfied by one simple law.
The ocean was victorious for now, but the sand would rise again.