The children played at his feet. He felt so tired, putting his cup of tea down on the nest of tables by his side he observed the three playing. One was a doctor in some magical conflict, with a potion that could raise the dead, another waving a plastic sword and the little girl who had her grandmother’s eyes was at the head of an advancing Goblin army. It was an innocent version of war, no heroes ever died in their play.
Desperate to join them he played the maverick plucking Amber away from her army up into the air.
“I the Dragon of Goldacre Cave have stolen your Captain, an Amber Jewel for my hoard, I shall smite the goblin army should they stand in my way.”
The two boys stood up brandishing their swords.
“Not while we’re around Foul Beast!”
Amber stopped struggling in his arms and with all the seriousness of a grave adult said:
“By the power of the Grand Witch, Amber, The Living Jewel will blast the dragon from the kingdom!” The child prettily outstretched her hands, with a look of concentration furrowed her little brow.
It seemed she thought highly enough of herself to gain instant powers. He played along, falling to the floor clutching his chest, having released her, he dragged himself away from the conquering army, the fun, was true agony, not easy, the children didn’t know his old bones once did this regularly in a real war.
“You’ll never get the gold!” He pulled out of his pocket a paper bag of yellow sweets keeping them close as the children piled on, laughing, trying to snatch them away. Until in stepped his wife.
He fully expected a smile to be bestowed from under her grey fringe, telling him off for endangering his good hip, before joining them on the floor. Instead from his unusual vantage he could tell something was very wrong.
“Hon?”
“Lillie’s called, Amber’s to go home, there’s been a development.”
Hellfire!
Missed the last instalment of We Six? Find it here: https://theiristribune.co.uk/guns-and-ribbons/
Clara Lucea
