My kingdom is grand. The heal of bare feet touch the blazing patio which causes a surge of heat and energy to shoot through my body as I continue on. I leave behind the concrete and it continues to bake. Our tall palm trees sway softly; they dance to the tune of chatter. Lively fantails perch on our brick wall: relaxing, dreaming, and chirping. It was crafted carefully summers ago and it stands upright defending our property; defending the greenery that awakens with every blow of the sea breeze. A sprinkler sits on the middle of the lawn, providing life. Each drop of water catches in the sun light and it briefly casts a faint rainbow in the wet misty air. The call of the azure water is powerful. I know the water will be warm because of the intense rays of sun that boil the water; I know that the pleasant mud will be slightly squishy underneath my bare feet, but today I must resist. Our royal blue Catamaran is slightly rusted with use. It sits proudly. Vibrant, red reeds surround it providing little protection from the moisture. The paint is as bright as a summer’s day and every scrap and each scratch is on display. All the thrilling tales behind each mark is only known by my Family and I. I breath in; I can taste the sea on my tongue. Seagulls swoop up above watching and waiting for a nibble of food to fall from my baby brothers hand. Waddling slowly, he holds a freshly baked muffin leaving a trail of crumbs. With small swivel of my head I can see homes. Standing along the estuary front proudly. Each home is immaculate and well cared for. The individuality of every home is clear, unique and breathtaking. With just one quick look you can guess who the homes belong to. My home is lively. White painted walls and an electrifying orange brick roof. It is resilient to my family’s pushes and shoves. As it protects us bravely, it sits firmly watching our stories unfold.

My kingdom is frantic. My laces are a snakes that coil around my shoes constricting my senses. Each toe suffocates under the pressure. Trees jerk wildly with the ferocious gust as it attempts to sweep away the grime and dirt. I see the brick wall that once protected my house, but now it is exhausted with effort. Crumbling with each passing tremor. Defeated. Weeds as high as Jack’s Beanstalk advance quickly like a virus across our lawn, which makes the scene unfamiliar, distant and lonely. No longer does the salty sea smell drift aimlessly through the air smothering everything with its scent. It has now been overpowered by pungent stink of sewage; violating my nose with each sniff. The forbidden water is a murky brown it is a painful reminder of the damage that plagues my kingdom. The abandoned Catamaran is tossed aside: unused, scared, rusting, and alone. The memories that were once bright in my mind are dull and fading. Large cracks scar our lawn which force my baby brother indoors. There is an absence of people. Resulting in an airy silence, that not even the seagulls break. Nesting in the contaminated reeds they try sleep off everlasting tiredness that the shakes and shudders has bought. With a small swivel I see nothing. Nothing at all. Since the friendly family next door has left, all that remains is a cracked shell of what their house once was and a never ending chasm of emptiness. Every other house along the estuary is gone, obliterated. Ghosts of who they used to be remain. Haunting the team of demolition workers that has replaced the families they cared for. Since the ground trembled, I know that our disfigured house shares the same fate; fate of wrecking balls and dust. A fate so permanent that in a few months I know that I will be gone too.