While the puffy balls of cold were falling from the sky, Garrett contemplated which sled he should use to slide down the seemingly gargantuan hill in his backyard. First, however, he had to lift himself out of his cozy bed. The lethargic Garrett tumbled down the flight of stairs, enthusiastically gearing himself up for the snowy adventure in his backyard. As he laced his snow boots, however, his mom came up to him and questioned
“Did you remember to make your bed?”
“Uugghh,” the annoyed Garrett responded. He then proceeded to take off his snow gear, climb up the stairs, make his bed, and venture downwards again. His mother greeted him with a warm breakfast consisting of scrambled eggs.
“Let’s hope that you have a nice and joyful time sledding,” Garrett’s mom told her son as he wolfed down his eggs. After the yellow material was in his belly, he again put on his snow gear and walked outside with his sled in hand. The winter winds whistled and whipped through the air, attacking Garrett’s face with bitter cold and pushing against the crimson, fiery sled of his. He trotted and plodded through the four inches of snow, making the tiring trek to the peak of the hill, until he finally reached the summit. He stared down the lusciously light hill, imbued with bright whites and tufts of fluff, and proceeded to bend his knees, his sled in hand.
“I can do this,” he said to himself, wondering if evading the tall trees and the hazardous hills and bumps were worth the risk and sheer joy. He jumped, firmly deciding that he would sled down this miniature mountain, and braced for the impact and readiness to steer down at blinding speeds while avoiding obstacles. Like an Olympic skier, brakes did not exist to this boy, who thought he was going faster than light itself. He was a bullet, a rapid, un-seeable blur, swiftly making progress down the mountain, avoiding hazards along the way. He dodged an evergreen, narrowly avoiding the base and instead going along the icy roots, bouncing at awkward angles and skewering his current direction, hurtling down at the same record pace, however. He ambled and bounced along the path, trying his best to not injure himself or shatter his plastic red sled, his favorite tool at the moment.
The Spark
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