Once there was a sister and brother named Debbie and Billy who loved to play in the sandbox their father built in the backyard. Debbie loved her brother more than anyone in the world. On most afternoons in Willow Hollow, Virginia, sunlight spilled over the grass, and the little wooden sandbox rested beneath the shade of an apple tree. The sand glimmered like tiny dunes as they built castles and sculptures with their shovels and pails.
Even if he played pranks on her and put sand in her hair, she always protected him from bullies in the neighborhood. She knew he was safe with her when they played in the sandbox together. Anytime Debbie built something that collapsed, Billy helped her rebuild it.
One dark night, a thunderstorm came that was worse than any other thunderstorm. It shook the house, and the lights went out; there was no electricity for hours. Their parents, Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher, lit candles and placed them around the house. After blowing out the candles, the mother told the children: “We should go to sleep early tonight. The sun will show its face tomorrow.”
“I’ll try to sleep,” eight-year-old Debbie said. She crawled into bed and counted backward from one hundred. Even though her brother tried to go to sleep, he was too scared by the storm to rest. He cuddled up on the couch with his stuffed animals and a blanket.
The storm raged outside Debbie’s window, lightning cracking again. She couldn’t stand the thunder anymore. The windows rattled. Barefoot, she ran down the hall to wake her brother on the couch.
“Something’s not right! What should we do?” she said to Billy, who was two years younger than she was.
“What? It’s only a storm. Go back to your room,” he said, squashing his pillow into her. As lightning struck, he shook in fear and rolled over on the couch. He pulled his blanket over his head. She realized he was just as scared as she was.
So, Debbie walked back to her room with goosebumps and climbed back into her bed. She wished the storm would end. When morning finally came, sunlight poured through her curtains. The storm was gone — the world sparkled as if nothing had happened. Like many other days, the two children headed to the sandbox with their shovels and pails.
“Where did these come from?” Debbie asked, looking at large sandy footprints in the grass. They looked enormous and strange. Each print pressed deep into the earth. “What’s all this sand doing here?”
“Oh, it was just the storm last night,” Billy said. He filled up his pail with moist sand. He sat down in the sandbox and began to build a castle.
As Debbie was about to step into the sandbox, a fierce wind blew through the tree behind her. She wondered if it was just her imagination. The sky turned black, and thunder cracked across the heavens. The sand began to swirl and whirl, pulling Billy down. Debbie screamed. Then, the sand grew — rising taller and taller — until a towering figure of sand stood where her brother had been. Debbie stood in the grass in utter fear.
Out of the sandbox rose a towering monster, woven from grains and wind. It roared, its face shaped like her brother’s—but hollow, wrong, not him at all. Every step left behind perfect footprints that crumbled into ordinary sand a moment later. The creature loomed high above the sandbox and knocked down the nearby apple tree.
“What did you do with my baby brother? I want him back!” Debbie yelled.
The Sandbox Giant reached for Debbie, but she escaped his grasp by throwing a pail of water on him. For a moment, the monster bubbled, but then grew in size again.
“Momma, come quick!” she yelled. But her mother was inside cleaning the house, unaware. Debbie threw her shovel at the monster.
“You took what was mine!” the monster growled. “All things return to dust. You build, and I unmake what you build.”
Debbie could not believe such horrible words came from a giant that looked like her brother — but clearly wasn’t him.
“You don’t live here! My father built this sandbox!” Debbie yelled.
From the corner of her eye, Debbie found the garden hose in the bushes. She dove to grab the hose, hoping she could melt the Sandbox Giant with a stream of water. As she turned on the hose, the monster lunged for her and almost caught her. Before he could catch her, she sprayed the water in his face. The Sandbox Giant tried to shield himself from the stream of water, but his face started to come off, and his hands dissolved.
“No!” the monster screamed as the sand bubbled away and his shape began to melt.
“Take that! Disappear! I want my brother back!” Debbie yelled.
“Debbie, why are you yelling?” the mother called from the kitchen window.
“Billy is missing,” Debbie yelled to her mother, still spraying the monster with water.
“Oh, he’s just hiding,” her mother said. “Come out, come out wherever you are...”
When Debbie turned back around, her brother was sitting in the sandbox, building a castle as if nothing had happened. Her hands trembled on the hose. Debbie knew what she saw.
“What happened to you?” she said. “I always defended you from bullies, but this was the worst one ever.”
“What are you talking about?” Billy said as Debbie curled the garden hose into a pile. Debbie shook her head, knowing that she could never explain to anyone what she saw.
She hoped never to see the Sandbox Giant again. Yet on every stormy night after that, she listened for the wind and kept the garden hose nearby — just in case.
Copyright 2015 Jennifer Waters
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