Only memories inhabited the halls. Echoes of laughter, song, and weeping could be heard among the ancient oaks.
"Splat! Hit one ghost and then another."
In a small, dusty rural area, there are histories and stories that should be told; times worth remembering; and there is homage, a tribute that should be paid. Take the sand, all of it, mold it into castles shaped by the wind and baked by the sun.