By Cassidy Ryder
I climbed up the large tree roots and wrapped my little hands around the rope attached to the first branch. “Cassie, get down!” my sister Cayley demanded. “Charlie and I were going to play on the swing!” I clung tighter. There was nothing they could do to make me let go. Charlie whispered in Cayley’s ear. They grinned to each other. “We’ll push you, Cassie. Okay?” Charlie said calmly. Eagerly, I hopped on the rope swing. Charlie and Cayley took hold of the end of the rope, raising me up. They let go and slammed my back into the tree.
One Comment
Jennifer Attwood
I like this short story because it is small and the ending is unexpected. It honestly made me think of where I grew up for part of my childhood, in Arkansas. There were many times growing up as a child on a farm where we had many different types rope swings — or cliffs we could jump off into the water. It reminded me of those minor accidents we would have. When my sister would push me off the cliff unexpectedly, or the rope swing would plummet into the large oak tree. Great job on pulling some sort of nostalgia out of somebody out there! I can relate.