Friday, May 28, 2021

Word: Skylark

 

skylark

[ skahy-lahrk ]

noun

a brown-speckled European lark, Alauda arvensis, famed for its melodious song.

verb (used without object)

to frolic; sport: The children were skylarking on the beach.

 ********************************

               John and Sarah watched their kids run around the yard, laughing and shouting as they did. They were playing some child’s game, chasing and being chased by something that did not exist. And the two adults had to admit they kids were good at it. If Jack did not know any better, he would have sworn they actually were playing with something.

               “We’ve got some good kids, don’t we?” He said.

               “Yeah, we do.” Sarah agreed. “But why mention it now?”

               “Well, when I’m at work, all I hear about is kids playing video games and watching YouTube videos.”

               “Jason and Loura do both of those. What about it?”

               “True, but not as much as what I hear. Those two are just as happy running around, chasing the air. Our kids have imagination that I never hear from anyone else.”

               “Good point.” The two of them said nothing as they watched their kids playing. “We should make sure they keep it. You know, encourage creativity and all that.”

               “Obviously. Make sure they drawn and play music and all that.”

               The kids stopped running, probably to catch their breath. They spoke quietly to each other. At least, John thought they were talking to each other. There were times when one would talk, and it would be several seconds before the other replied. And there was something else. He thought he saw some kind of distortion in the air around them, but it was faint and probably just a trick of the light.

               Jason, the older brother, walked over to his parents.

               “What is it, sweety?” Sarah asked.

               “Mommy, can we have some juice?” The boy asked.

               “Of course, dear.  Hold on, I’ll get you some.”

               “And some for the fairies too?”

               “The fairies?” John asked.

               “Uh huh. We’re playing with them, and they’re really nice. They said that they like juice too.”

               “Oh, well, in that case, I’ll get a little bit just for them.” Sarah said with a twinkle in her eye.

               “So, do you want to tell me about the fairies?” John asked.

               “Uh huh. They’re really nice. They said they like to play with people, but don’t get to. They said it’s because nobody can see them, but Loura and I can because we have magic and stuff.”

               “Really? And what kind of magic do you have?”

               Jason shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno. The fairies can’t tell yet. They just know we have it.”

               “Well, if the fairies say so, it’s probably true.” John said. He could not suppress his smile. His kids really did have a wonderful imagination, and he would not be the one to squash them. Although, he could still encourage a few more practical traits as well. “But you know, being able to use magic is really hard, right? So you have to be smart and study really hard in school, okay?”

               “Okay.” Jason said.

               At that moment, Sarah came back out. On a tray, she held two child sized cups of apple juice, and a few thimble-fulls of the same.

               “You didn’t tell me how many there were, so I brought a few.” She said, following their son. She set the tray down and rejoined her husband.

               They smiled and winked at each other, happy that their kids were shaping up to be so creative. Both kids drank their juice and then picked up a thimble. Jack saw something. At least, he thought he did. He thought he saw the juice flow up over the lip of the thimble and disappear. But that could not be right. He had to have been seeing things. It was several yards away, and such a small amount that he was certain it was his eyes playing tricks on him.

               “Hey, Sarah, did you see something weird just now?” He asked.

               “I…don’t know.” She said. “I thought I did, but I just can’t tell for sure.”

               So it was not just him. Was it?

               “You don’t think…” He began.

               “No, no. Couldn’t be. Fairies aren’t real. Are they?”

               Once hydrated, the kids went back to their game. Sarah moved quickly to retrieve the tray of cups and thimbles. When she came back, she looked mystified. Not one of the thimbles held any juice. She sat down, setting the tray on the floor. In silence, the two of them watched as their children played with fairies. 

***************************************** 

Let's just hope they aren't mythologically accurate fairies. Those can get...nasty.

No comments:

Post a Comment