I've joined the Writer Wednesday Blog Hop for a number of times now and each time, it's been a thrill. The picture prompts don't always create the spark for me but when they do, I just have to tell the story.
I'm especially thrilled because this particular blog hop is bringing me a step closer to my dream. But I'll talk about that later this week. For now, its books and fighter planes that has me smiling from ear to ear...
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“Your mom won’t be finished for another hour. Want to browse around first?” a grey-haired lady asked, craning her neck to see him on the other side of the counter.
“Sure, whatever...” his voice trailed off as he wandered towards the shelves that lined every wall.
I'm especially thrilled because this particular blog hop is bringing me a step closer to my dream. But I'll talk about that later this week. For now, its books and fighter planes that has me smiling from ear to ear...
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“Your mom won’t be finished for another hour. Want to browse around first?” a grey-haired lady asked, craning her neck to see him on the other side of the counter.
“Sure, whatever...” his voice trailed off as he wandered towards the shelves that lined every wall.
His mother worked in the library and had arranged for Simon to be brought there after swimming practice. It seemed like a good idea at first, Simon thought, until he realized he had to stay there and wait for her for an hour.
There was the concert tonight, anyway, he consoled himself. He had been so bored on the first day that his mother promised they’d watch the show of his favorite band tonight. Still, the promise didn’t do much for his drooping spirits.
Earlier in the week, he had checked out some video games on the computer but his mother stood her ground.
“No computer games on weekdays, remember?”
“Mom, it’s summer. I’m on vacation!” Simon pleaded.
“Same rules apply, sweetheart. Those games are poison to the mind.” Simon sulked. “Look around you,” she continued, waving her hand around, “you’re surrounded by books. Surely there’s something here you’d find interesting.”
Simon now wished he had gone to camp like the other boys in his class. But he wanted to swim. He needed to train if he was going to make it to the junior swimming team next year.
“New books on the counter!” one of the library staff shouted. In his haste to finish an errand, a book fell, its open page showing the most beautiful sight Simon had ever seen.
The book was big and heavy. It was hard bound and had a glossy white cover. The pages were thicker and there were more pictures than there were words.
Simon turned a page and a man with a small dark mole on his left cheek stared back at him. But it wasn’t the man that held Simon’s attention. It was the fighter plane, the North American P51 Mustang his grandfather had told him about many times.
Suddenly, Simon heard nothing except the sound of planes over his head.
He positioned his bird behind the enemy. The war cry of plane engines pierced the sky.His P-51 mustang singled out a 109, shredding the enemy fighter before it had a chance to react. He latched on to the tail of another, expertly balancing his stick and throttle. Simon’s finger is poised over the trigger. Targeting the enemy's tail, he knocked him out cold. He dove back, veered to the left and rolled over. Simon quickly dispatched another plane, his second kill in a span of seconds.
“There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Simon’s mother broke in, silencing the piercing cry of the fighter jets in Simon’s head.
“You look happy...” his mother said, confused.“Excited for the concert?” she asked, wiping off the sweat in his face with a napkin.
Simon beamed, “I can’t wait to come here again tomorrow.”
Linked up with Writer Wednesday Blog Hop
There was the concert tonight, anyway, he consoled himself. He had been so bored on the first day that his mother promised they’d watch the show of his favorite band tonight. Still, the promise didn’t do much for his drooping spirits.
Earlier in the week, he had checked out some video games on the computer but his mother stood her ground.
“No computer games on weekdays, remember?”
“Mom, it’s summer. I’m on vacation!” Simon pleaded.
“Same rules apply, sweetheart. Those games are poison to the mind.” Simon sulked. “Look around you,” she continued, waving her hand around, “you’re surrounded by books. Surely there’s something here you’d find interesting.”
Simon now wished he had gone to camp like the other boys in his class. But he wanted to swim. He needed to train if he was going to make it to the junior swimming team next year.
“New books on the counter!” one of the library staff shouted. In his haste to finish an errand, a book fell, its open page showing the most beautiful sight Simon had ever seen.
The book was big and heavy. It was hard bound and had a glossy white cover. The pages were thicker and there were more pictures than there were words.
Simon turned a page and a man with a small dark mole on his left cheek stared back at him. But it wasn’t the man that held Simon’s attention. It was the fighter plane, the North American P51 Mustang his grandfather had told him about many times.
Suddenly, Simon heard nothing except the sound of planes over his head.
He positioned his bird behind the enemy. The war cry of plane engines pierced the sky.His P-51 mustang singled out a 109, shredding the enemy fighter before it had a chance to react. He latched on to the tail of another, expertly balancing his stick and throttle. Simon’s finger is poised over the trigger. Targeting the enemy's tail, he knocked him out cold. He dove back, veered to the left and rolled over. Simon quickly dispatched another plane, his second kill in a span of seconds.
“There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Simon’s mother broke in, silencing the piercing cry of the fighter jets in Simon’s head.
“You look happy...” his mother said, confused.“Excited for the concert?” she asked, wiping off the sweat in his face with a napkin.
Simon beamed, “I can’t wait to come here again tomorrow.”
Linked up with Writer Wednesday Blog Hop