The dawn bright and he had awaken with a lump in his stomach. He was ready to catch the big yellow orange school bus. This was the big day, Mrs. Spivey his fifth grade teacher, had appointed to have the students stand before the class and read their short stories. He wanted to write so badly and impress the other students with his ability. He was understandably nervous, standing before the class and reading his story was a scary thought, but it had to be done and he had no doubt that he was capable of the task.

His greatest enjoyment during school was reading the many and wonderful books that were kept in the school library. The library was the best place in the whole school, he could have stayed there all day, each day and done nothing but read the exciting tales of days past. A time with Knights of the Round Table, and the Indian scout of the Great Plains. Oh, how his imagination would run wild, it was as if he were there with Kit Carson, Jim Bridger, or King Arthur. He could see himself taking part in the great battles and then returning victorious to ticker tape parades down the streets of New York. There was no doubt in his mind that if the chance would be his, he could be as great as the greatest!

Reading was his world of escape from the mundane world of a sharecropper’s son’s life.

His imagination took him to all the corners of the world and he could live out the many wonderful stories that captivated his mind.

Now he had been given an opportunity to write a great tale about his very own exploits.

All during the ride to school he would open his notebook and read the story again and again, and each time he became more and more anxious.

Finally the time came for the literature portion of the class to commence, and with his last name beginning with an A, he knew he would be one of the first to, as he had read some where, “Stand and Deliver,” he thought that was a catchy way to say, stand and read.

Finally his name was called and he slowly stood and walked to the front of the class and turned to look at the thirty pairs of eyes that were all staring and waiting. He swallowed to get the lump out of his throat and turned his head to glance at Mrs. Spivey and there he saw an expectant look on her face. He supposed she was on pins and needles while she awaited the wonderful story that he would deliver.

He unfolded the one wrinkled sheet of notepaper and began to read the story. All eyes were firmly upon his, he had read the story so many times he stopped looking at the paper and for five minute he had them in the palm of his hand as the story of the bear hunt unfurled before their very eyes. They were mesmerized; he knew that they could feel the cool temperatures of the autumn day as the hunt was so vividly revealed to their waiting minds. He knew that each student could hear the baying dogs as they chased the black bear through the forest of golden hued leaves and finally they could hear the sound of his roaring shot gun, as it brought down the huge black bruin, ruler of the forest, almost at his feet.

As he was finishing his tale of hunting prowess Mrs. Spivey reached over his shoulder and took the paper from his hands, but he did not need it, for the story was finished.

Besides, there were but two lines written on the notepaper!

No one would have guessed on that humiliating day, that one day he would be a preacher and a writer!

James Avery jamesaveryfwb@gmail.com

February 4, 2008