Member-only story
You Are Never Too Old to Play
Movement is the secret to a happy life
It was a trap set by a devious seven-year-old, such an innocent face, yet she knew the power of her wicked skills. She caught me early in the day, before I had my caffeine, my old head too foggy to realize her powers, she eventually holding me captive for an hour.
Her mother, the source of her power, was aware of her child’s evil as she set watching from the park bench, sipping a Starbucks coffee, a smirk on her face as her daughter caught yet another victim. She knew, yet did nothing but laugh.
I never saw it coming, out for a morning walk along the French Broad River, the sun stealing the chill of a fall Asheville morning. Oh, this tiny vixen had been busy, it must have taken her hours to design her trap, but I did admire the workmanship, lines perfectly drawn, different colors of chalk for each box, the perfect hopscotch pattern right in the middle of the heavily travelled sidewalk.
She was on her knees next to the diagram. Blue dress, with big white flowers, pink sneaks, and big blue eyes, her right arm covered with chalk dust up to her elbow. She even had a bow in her hair, giving her that air of preciousness impossible to resist, “Want to try mister, it’s lots of fun? I’ll show you how.” You evil child, you evil evil child.
