Chapter 1.2

Paul lowered his head and frowned. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I can’t help it.”

“You can’t help it?” His mother repeated. “You need to learn to ignore it. A wild imagination will not provide for you in the future.”

Paul thought about the adventure he had been having before his mother stepped in. Frowning further, he realized that the images in his head had helped him.

“But, I was doing my chores,” Paul said defiantly, looking his mother in the eye. Gesturing toward the firewood pile, he continued, “I was a knight in shining armor. It was my duty—my quest—to bring the firewood to a place of sanctuary.”

“Oh, if only we could figure out where your imagination comes from,” his mother said and sighed. “And what big words for a six year old boy!”

“I don’t even go to school,” Paul said, filling in the rest of his mother’s thoughts.

“I see we have had this conversation before,” his mother said with a nod. “You dream them at night.” Paul made an unintelligible sound, agreeing with her. She continued, “But they must come from somewhere other than your dreams.”

Paul shrugged his shoulders. “Can I go play with the village kids?” he asked, changing the subject.

“I guess … after you finish your chores.”

After bringing in the rest of the firewood, Paul turned his attention to the barn. Though he tried to focus like his mother had told him, he began to imagine the barn as a castle with a moat and a drawbridge.

I must deliver this message to the king. Paul looked down and imagined a rolled up scroll in his hand. He held up his hand and mouthed the words: “Lower the bridge. I must see the king at once.”

“What are you talking about?” James asked him. “Nevermind. You better pick up the pace. I’ll knock you over the head if you make me do all of the chores.”

Paul shook his head, trying to shake the image of the castle from his mind. “Sorry,” he said.

The End

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