Bite Sized Bits of Fic

She knows: what she builds will crumble. Not yet, but soon the water will rise, inching up, dragging down and laying claim. The moat will fill, the towers fall, this castle come to sand. She doesn’t mind, it’s ebb and flow, the ocean’s pulse, she makes it pretty while it lasts, a bridge, there, and crenelations, an escape route for princesses with the will and rope. Salt is in her hair, grains between her toes and her clothes are dirty, her fingers smudged, crusty, like the beach-picked shells in her pocket, before she brushed them and blew. She’ll brush her hands clean too, when she’s done, cross her legs and watch the waves crash, basking in the moment she’s caught.