🚀 go-pugleaf

I would like to know what you think of this story.  I am trying to get some
feedback on my writing skills.  Could you take 5 minutes and read
this--then perhaps send me back a quick note about how you liked it? 
-- 
Thanks!
Cory Beatty

E-mail address   Beatty@pdqnet.net




Kids are dumb.  That's what my grandma used to say.  "Dumb kids!" 

Was how she put it.  Well, perhaps, but this never set well with my brother

Cord and I--especially Cord.  Cord had a butch hair cut, round cheeks and a

short little pudgy body.  I always thought he would grow up to be fat, but 

he never did.  He had bright, mischievous blue eyes, and always looked as

though he was scheming for something--which he usually was.  I was 

older by two years, but it was invariably Cord who came up with the ideas
that 

got us into real trouble.  He took it as a personal attack whenever someone


pointed out how dumb or stupid something was we had done.  He would stand 

defiantly and quip off with something mouthy like "did not!" Or "ohhhh
yeah!"

I felt sorry for him because it was tough to mouth off to adults without
the 

proper vocabulary training.  I agreed with Cord's feelings.  After all, it 

was common knowledge in our small town that kids were not dumb, but rather 

that adults were--they just didn't know it.  It turned out there was enough


dumbness to go around for everybody...

	On a hot, sticky day in the middle of August, Cord and I were sitting

on the porch of our farmhouse staring out at the empty fields that
surrounded

us.  I was fourteen and Cord has just turned twelve.  What a day it was!  

Excitement should have been in the air, (days like these are tailor-made
for

little boys and adventure), but the air was thick, and still.  We were
bored 

out of our minds!  All our friends had either been grounded or given chores


to do.  We had been given chores as well, but mom and dad had left on some 

errands, and as far as we were concerned, our chores went with them.

	"We could go hunting" suggested Cord, and the glimmer was back in 

his eye.  He didn't have to ask me twice.  We both had a good set of bow
and 

arrows and we loved to shoot.  "Hunting" was more imaginary than real--

although the shooting part was real enough.  We had mighty visions of wild 

bulls, ferocious bears, or perhaps a rabid dog or two--stalking our house 

and family.  Frightening all, and putting up a terrific battle, they were 

eventually brought down "Rambo style" by two "Commando style" brothers.  In


reality, the wild animals were just card-board boxes, and the rabid dogs
were just 

paper targets stapled to the cardboard.  

	It was our favorite pastime and we lived in a great area for it.  Our 

house was surrounded by empty fields and meadows at the base of Pine Valley


Mountain.  Our nearest neighbor was a long arrow shot away.  The field 

directly behind our house had a small stream running across the length of
it

just where the range lifted toward the mountain.  We set up our "hunting 

range" so we would shoot across the stream against the side of the
mountain.

	I think Cord started it (or at least I like to think he did).  We had

been shooting for an hour or so, and there hadn't been any frightening--or 

even semi-frightening creatures of any kind.  Perhaps our legend had
preceded

us!  Suddenly Cord aimed an arrow straight at the sky and let it go.  Up,
up

it went, finally disappearing into a light blue sky.  We stared at the spot


where the arrow had disappeared.  After what seemed an eternity, we caught 

sight of it as it raced back to earth.  Thunk!  It struck solidly, burying
a

full quarter of its body deep into the earth twenty feet in front of us.  

"Cool!" I yelled, "let  me try!"  Again we watched as the arrow streaked
out 

of sight, then finally plummeted down to earth.  Soon we were becoming much


bolder.  We could now launch an arrow out of sight, hold our bow out at the


end of a slightly trembling hand, and watch as the arrow plunged through
the 

hole created between the wood and string of the bow.  Each time the arrow 

would land, we would jump and howl with delight.

	Although Cord usually came up with all the plans though got us into 

trouble, I came up with a pretty cool thought:  How about two arrows? 
"Check

this out" I said.  I notched two feathered metal shafts into my bow, aimed 

directly over my head, pulled them back as far as I could, and let them
fly.

Swoosh!  Off they went like two silver winged shafts of lightning.  They
went

up with so much force and power it made me a little nervous--these were two


of my best arrows and I didn't want to lost them.  My eyes were glued to
both

of them and they appeared to be only six inches apart as they rose toward
the

sun.  It didn't dawn on me until too late that I was tracing them directly 

into the sun, and with a streak of glinted sunlight off their metallic 

shafts, they were gone!

	I staggered back and tried to clear my eyes, but they wouldn't focus.

I looked at Cord: his head was down, fists jammed in his eyes trying to
clear

away the tears.  He, too, had followed their flight directly into the sun. 


Suddenly I remembered the arrows.  Where were they?  My eyes searched the 

sky, but a second look again started my eyes streaming and I could see no 

trace of them.	I did the only thing I could think of: "Run!" I yelled.  I 

started to my right, Cord to my left, both running as fast as we could.  I 

turned, still running madly, to see where Cord had gone and caught a
glimpse 

of something high in the sky.  It was a gleam of sunlight reflecting off
one 

of the arrows!  A fraction of a second later I saw the other flash.  They 

were traveling just a few feet apart, and headed right for my little
brother!

"Cord, stop!" I screamed.  Everything was happening in slow motion.  Then 

Cord did a very strange thing: he just stopped right where he was--didn't 

even take time to slow down, crouched, and put his hands over his head for 

protection.  At that instant the arrows pounded into the earth with a near 

simultaneous K-Thunk!--Precisely one foot in front and one foot in back of
a

very scared little boy.

	Grandma was right, kids are dumb.  We just stood there.  I couldn't 

believe how lucky we were.  Cord was staring at the arrows still quivering
in

the earth.  I wondered why he didn't move.  He wasn't hurt, but seemed to
be 

in a state of shock.  It took awhile, but his fear gradually gave way to 

anger...

			I learned two lessons that day:

1.  Think before I act.

2.  Little brothers don't always stay so little!