The beach day was going perfectly—until the sandcastle started talking back. At first, I thought it was the heat playing tricks on me, or maybe I had drunk too much tropical juice. But then it blinked at me with those tiny pebbles I had put on it for eyes—It then sighed in what sounded like a deep voice of frustration.
>"You built me all wrong,"
The Castle I had just made grumbled in a gravelly tone. I stumbled back, nearly knocking over my cooler and folding chair.
"Did... did... you just... talk?"
"Yes, and quite fluently, thank you. But if I may be honest, your symmetry is repulsive."
It turned out my stupid sandcastle had somehow taken on the personality of a grumpy old architect who is fighting to survive midlife crisis. As the waves of the sea inched closer, I thought to myself: Should I preserve this ungrateful sandy critic or let the sea wash him away and restore my sanity?
I was still thinking about it when I was suddenly jerked to life by a loud drumming sound with saxophones and all kinds of instruments.
It turns out, I had dozzed off while enjoying the beach breeze and was woken up by the boom speaker a large party gathering had just switched on.
This fun weekly challenge by the 
[Writing Contest Finish the Tale. Story #18](@ecency-star/writing-contest-finish-the-tale-dbbc2e5fcbdfe)
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