The castle looked amazing, as did the start of sunset, shimmering over the ocean’s rippling waves. Shame the same couldn’t be said about the boy.
The boy appeared to shaking his head, looking back and forth between his own creation and God’s. As he passed, Jackson noticed tears were streaming down the boy’s face and landing on the sandcastle.
Jackson should be back home in ten minutes, and there would be hell to pay if he were late.
Jackson was transported to a time, three years early, when on this very beach he had built a sandcastle on the same stretch of sand, albeit a little further from the tide line. Just like the boy, he’d spent the best part of the summer’s afternoon making the walls and turrets, using his cheap plastic bucket and spade to create his masterpiece, only for some teenage boys to come along and destroy his hard work within seconds.
Unlike the boy, Jackson had had the foresight to build above the tideline and include a moat.
His brain kept his feet walking but his heart made him stop in his tracks. He went back to the boy and knelt down beside him.
“I like your castle.”
“Th-th-thanks.”
“I’m Jackson. What’s your name?”
“Oscar.”
“Do you want me to help you build a moat?”
“What’s a moat?”
“Here let me show you.”
For the next half an hour, Jackson dug furiously into the sand, digging a moat that protected the castle.