They build the castles everywhere. They sneak out at night and in the morning there’s a castle sitting in an empty lot or on someone’s lawn, and no one can say exactly where it came from or how it got there.
They are guerrilla castles, elaborate three-dimensional graffiti.
Sometimes they’re torn down. Once in awhile the owner of the property a castle has sprung up upon will leave it standing for a reasonable period of time before taking it down, but they are always taken down.
The castles are temporary things.
No one has figured out who the unseen architects are. People assume it is a group. No single person could build such things in only a matter of hours and be gone before their work is discovered by the rest of the world.
Whoever they are, they haven’t been caught yet.
About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.