The Windmill I'll Never Forget
This is installment #11 in my several-part series, Shit I Wrote a While Ago. The last McCaig from 3rd grade, this story is about a windmill. A windmill I never forgot. From 1995.
The Windmill I’ll Never Forget
Hi! I’m Morgan. I’m gonna tell you about a windmill I’ll never forget.
First of all, I think you should know that I have a little brother and a big sister. My brother’s name is Chad. He’s seven, and he’s got ebony hair, teal eyes, and pale skin. Chad is really nice and always looks up to me. My sister, Drew, however, is a big snob. She thinks that just because she’s fifteen, she’s better than everyone else. She also has goldenrod hair, burnt orange eyes, and always has a tan [ed. note: Clearly I had recently acquired a new 94-pack of crayons].
Anyway, it was a crisp, cool night. I could hear the snow crunching under my feet as I trudged through it. We set down our sleds at the miniature golf course my mom owns.
“Morgan,” Chad asked, “may I go climb on the giraffe?”
“Well…” I hesitated. “If you don’t climb on the head.”
Just then I heard, “Look out below!”
I swooped to the direction of the giraffe to see Chad climbing up a leg.
“Shrrr chollphphph!”
I whipped to the direction of the windmill and saw sled tracks leading into it.
“Morgannn,” Drew wailed.
I trudded to the windmill and crawled inside. An elevator took me up to a hollow tree. Then a door opened and I found myself gaping at my reflection in a lake. Just then a sharp whistle caught my attention. I galloped toward it, feet pounding.
I got there just in time to see Drew get gobbled up by a … well, whatever it was.
“Chad!” I screamed. He bounded toward me, eyes sparkling (he must have been there already).
“She’s gone?” he asked.
I nodded. “Whatever that thing was, she was its lunch.”
We jumped down from the tree we were in and then inched our way back home.
The End
Perhaps this was an exercise in action verbs? Maybe I had recently received a thesaurus for Christmas? In any case, I knew a lot of different words for “go.” Also this story unnerves me somewhat, since I am the oldest child in my family. Will I, too, be devoured by a lake monster who lives inside a windmill at my mother’s miniature golf course? C-
