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There was once a box with rose colored powder sand and blue neon sides called Escafe. One day a boy and a girl sat side by side parallel playing at making sand castles. The castles were shaped from similar buckets and mixtures of sand and water and architectural leanings. Yet, the boy’s castles’ foundations hovered about a foot above the ground.

The girl noticed the extra height and thought it wonderful.

She reached her hands into her foundation and lifted. The foundation began to slip through her fingers.

She remembered how the sun pushed through the gaps of her fingers as she covered her flushed face mourning the loss of her grandmother. She remembered the water rushing through her fingers when she left all she had known to escape the flood that would take all she had known and leave in its wake smells of madness , tastes of bile, and shards of memories poking the edges of her mind. She remembered tracing the edges of fences around new homes with strangers.

Her castle was ruined.

She overcame her shyness and asked the boy if she could live in his floating castle.

He told her no. His castles were homes for his thoughts and books and calculators.

“But, I can teach you how to build your own floating fortress. Forget the illusion that you are tethered to the ground. Build your castle in the air instead of attempting to raise those caught in their gravity. Be free of ties and lies. Be free.”

She took a deep breath and released herself from her entanglements and discovered she did not need high heels or even boys with rising castles to soar. Underneath the braids of modernity, she found delicate, ancient, raven black wings that carried her toward the sun and other adventures.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/radical/

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