Markie and his younger brother Riley ignored their grandmother’s call. Two more innings and they’d glory as Wiffle-Ball champions.
An unsubtle darkness settled as they began their journey home.
Everything around them began to shake. Markie raised his arms to steady himself.
“EARTHQUAKE!” Riley gripped his brother’s hand.
“Let go!” Markie pushed his sibling. The rumbling intensified, then came to a silent halt.
“Those twin warlocks, with matching cottages are cooking up potions to kill kids. The mixture causes a reaction, things tremble.” Markie laughed and helped his brother up. “Jokes aside, don’t hold my hand again. What if the fella’s had seen that?”
Riley glanced at the well-lit cabins. His brother’s story was possibly true… but…. There’s another tale that came to his mind.
Suddenly, layers of green earth rose up like waves, steam soared from the small waterhole and the window shades on the little houses began quickly opening and closing. The atmosphere went from pitch black to faint lighting, repeatedly. The boys held one another tightly, tiptoeing past, praying the evil twins wouldn’t catch them.
Markie’s voice quivered, “Those aren’t win….dows! Those are eye….lids! Runnnnn!” He and his brother took off, screeching to an abrupt stop, seconds from tumbling into space. The night sky held the stars, moon and now Markie and Riley teetered on nothing’s edge. Swaying from side to side, they sat down, grabbed a tree trunk, and held on for dear life.
Snorting noises echoed through the air as steam once again rolled from the waterhole.
“Markie.” Riley whispered. “I hope your stupid game was worth it. Bad kids wake the beast, look, we’re holding on to a Dragon’s wart so we don’t die…… and……that’s not a waterhole……it’s a nostril.”
The dragon lowered his head, let out a sneeze and sent the boys flying home.
Leesa Writes 