Bow and Arrows

I have a bow and arrow set that I use for hunting because I just finished second grade and I’m still not allowed to have a gun yet. I’d never killed anything with it but I practice shooting targets all the time. I had a dozen arrows to start with and I’ve lost a few, broken a few more and have four remaining.

I wish I’d hidden my arrows when my cousin Mack and his family came to visit us about a month ago. He loves to shoot the arrows straight up in the air to see who “chickens out,” and runs away before the arrows fall from above, right down on their skull, killing them instantly. I wonder if he really wants to die because the arrows land at his feet and he never moves an inch.  

I’d rather not die to show the world I’m not afraid of arrows falling from the sky. If I have to die, I’d rather die doing something heroic or in my sleep. Either is fine with me if the rapture doesn’t come and swoop me up into heaven, relieving me of having to die at all.