Little hero

“Can I go outside and play mom?”, Billy asks with the sweetest smile. “Hmm, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”, “Please mom, I’ll be careful, I promise.”. “Ok but don’t head out to far, I have to be able to see you from the doorway.” Billy runs off before his mother changes her mind. He stops suddenly at the sight in front of him. “Wow! Timmy is going to be so jealous when I tell him about this place tomorrow at school” He walks up closer to explore the majestic Kingdom. “En garde! You coward! If you won’t kill that nasty dragon, I will do it myself!” He picks up the sword, swings it in the air and jumps on his horse, ready to face the enemy. “I will fight the dragon and pierce his black heart with this magical sword given to me by Lord Bumpalot!” he exclaims, jumping from his horse at a gallop and landing safely on the castle’s drawing bridge. He runs inside and starts clambering up the wall with the sword held tightly between his teeth, the iron feels hot on his tongue and he swallows down a metallic taste. “I am not afraid of you!”

“Billyyyy!! Get down from that stack of cars! You’re going to break your neck! And drop that filthy wiper. Please tell me you didn’t put that in your mouth. Uchhh, what is that smell? It’s like you rolled in a puddle of mud mixed with grease and cow dung! Thank God I brought my hand sanitizer, I knew I shouldn’t have brought you along to the junkyard! Let’s go home and get you washed up before you catch something!”

Billy drops his wiper sword, scrambles down the huge pile of cars and looks back at the awesome castle and at the big red jerry can at the top of the pile; the dragon he was just about to kill. He pets his horse, an empty oily bucket with an upside-down broken broom sticking out. When he finally reaches his mom, he stretches his palms out to catch the cold, lemony scented clear liquid she squirts lavishly in his grubby little hands and he rubs his palms together. ”That dragon has lived to see another day, but I’ll be back!” He says triumphantly. “Not if I can help it you won’t”, his mom replies and leads him towards the car, pulling him by the corner of his collar, the only piece of his shirt that seems to be semi-clean.

Side note: I wrote this story as an assignment for a creative writing class. The assignment was to write a story from the point of view of an 8 year-old who is somewhere that to him is a magical place but to adults looks like a dump.

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