A Short Collection of Short Stories

The Castle

Deep in the hills of Ireland, hidden in the rocky cliffs by the shore, there stood a Castle. It sat alone, staring blankly out at the sea, a hollowness inside of it. It had sat alone for so long that the bats and the rats and other vermin that had once inhabited it, now fled its haunted figure. It had stood alone for so long that it had begun to think for itself. In the morning it would wake, and turn its gaze out upon the sea, and wonder how long it would be before the cliffs beneath it would give way to the relentless ocean and send it tumbling down into the raging sea. Then it would turn its gaze up at the overcast sky, and wonder how many more storms it would weather, before the rain would wash away the rest of the supports, and it would collapse under its own weight. It thought all of this not in anger, but in quiet contemplation.

One day, when the Castle was thinking of these things, it heard a great deal of yelling on the ground above it. It turned its gaze up at the cliffs above it and saw the most peculiar thing. A young boy was quickly climbing down the cliff face to escape a group of brutish boys. The other boys, too big or heavy to follow the nimble little boy, could do nothing but stand and watch. The Castle watched the young boy climb down the rocky cliff onto the ground. It watched as the boy walked in front of it and looked up at it. The Castle looked back. Then the boy tentatively entered the Castle. The Castle watched as the boy walked through its forgotten corridors, ran a hand on the smooth worn out stone walls, and looked out its vacant windows. All day the boy explored the Castle, and all day the Castle watched the boy, unsure of how to feel. Then, when the sun kissed the horizon, the boy left the Castle and began climbing back up the cliff side. Then, when he reached the top, the boy looked back and smiled at the Castle. The Castle knew then exactly how to feel. It drew all its strength and stood tall. It straightened its supports and pulled up its sagging floors, and thought not of when it should fall, but of how it should stand.

For years the Castle stood and for years the boy came. The Castle watched the boy grow taller, and older. His face matured, his hair grew. But he never brought anyone with him. He would come and walk through the Castle, and sit, and stay in silence. Sometimes he would speak to the Castle. Sometimes he would cry. Sometimes he would laugh. Sometimes he would just sit in silence and gaze out at the sea. And the Castle would watch. And no matter how many years went by, the boy came, and the Castle stood. Then one day the boy came, and he climbed to the very top floor, and sat and drew in a little notebook, and the Castle watched and so they did not see the rising ocean. The Castle did not feel the cold water, until it was lapping at the ceiling of the first floor. The Castle tried to warn the boy, but the boy was quietly drawing, unaware of the danger. And so the Castle drew all of its strength and shook. The boy, alarmed, stood up and looked out the window, where he saw the water quickly filling the Castle. He hurried down the steps to get out before the water would not let him. But it was too late. The water had already devoured the first and second floor, and was quickly filling the third. The boy ended up in the main room which was open except for the ceiling. The boy was swimming, unable to escape. The boy would drown. And the Castle knew what it had to do. And so the Castle let go. It used the last of its strength to keep the rocks from hitting the boy. And the Castle fell. The boy swam out through the hole in the ceiling and escaped. The Castle watched the boy escape and, though it was in ruins, it smiled as the boy clambered up and away from the cliffs.

The next day the boy returned. He walked through the ruins of the Castle, sadly looking at the rubble. Then he stooped down, and picked up a single pebble. The Castle felt a warmth around it. That single pebble had been what was holding it up. When the Castle had let go, it had been the pebble that had let it fall. Perhaps the boy felt the Castle's presence for he smiled and carried the pebble with him, and with it the Castle.

For years, the Castle watched the boy from its new home on a mantle. It watched the boy grow to a man. It watched when he brought home a wife. It watched when the man held a baby in his arms. It watched the girl grow and leave. It watched when she returned with a man and a baby of her own. It watched when the old man's wife passed away.

Sometimes the old man would sit and look at the pebble. Sometimes he would talk. Sometimes he would cry. Sometimes he would just sit in silence. And he would look at the pebble and smile. And the Castle would smile. Then one day, the old man took the pebble off the shelf and placed it in a box. And the Castle waited. And waited.

Then the box opened. The Castle looked up at a young girl, the same age as the boy had once been when he had found the Castle.

"It's a pebble." The girl said, confused.

"It's not just any pebble. This pebble once held up an entire castle. This is the strongest and most beautiful pebble in the world." The old man said. The girl picked up the pebble and smiled. "You take good care of it," the old man said. And very quietly he added, "of her." The Castle smiled. The Castle stayed with the girl. And even when the old man passed away the Castle stayed with the girl. It stayed. And it watched over her.