To most people, Silver Bear Village was a place of tranquil enchantment. It was a place where wondrous winters came every year, and where you measure the snow by the foot, not the inch. To most people, it was a place where you could loose track of time, forget the problems in your life, and enjoy the beautiful scenery. But to Jasper Nickels, a boy of ten years of age, Silver Bear Village was far from enchanted or wondrous. In fact, to Jasper it was the most boring place on Earth. Jasper had lived with his grandparents in the little cottage on Kettle Pot Place ever since he could remember, but what he couldn’t remember was the last time anything exciting happened in the little village. Like the occasional avalanches that shook the town from Crescent Peaks, the neighboring mountain range that could be seen from the town square, everything seemed to be off in the distance. But all that changed for Jasper while at school one crisp, sunny day.

Blue Jay Elementary was host to grades kindergarten through eighth, and held after-school activities for the residents, including Bingo, woodworking, and town meetings. The old school bell rang, and the doors burst open to let out a flood of children. Jasper quickly broke away from the crowd heading toward the playground and made his way around the far corner of the brick building. He was in such a hurry that he slammed smack into Merckle Clay, an eight grader who dwarfed Jasper in size.
“Watch it Nickels!” He shouted as his two friends, Horace and Lionel, loomed from behind him.
“Sorry,” he said, “sorry.”
“So, do you have it our not, shrimp?”
“Yeah,” Jasper replied as he tugged at his backpack.
He dug through the depths of his pack, rummaging past a sack of marbles, a yo-yo, some pogs, and an old granola bar, until finally retrieving a twenty-dollar bill and a loose marble.
“Let’s see it first.” Jasper said.
“Well, well, well,” said Merckle, “Hand it over guys.”
Horace reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and produces a slingshot with discretion. Jasper’s eyes light up. Horace hands it over, and Jasper eyes the old craftsmanship of the handle, the new rubber band, and worn patch of leather connecting the two rubber bands.
“That’s twenty big one’s shrimp.” Merckle demanded.
“Sure,” Jasper said, and tossed the twenty over.
Merckle glanced back at Horace and Lionel with a gross smirk across his face.
“Always a pleasure doing business with you, Jasper,” he said while still grinning, “but I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask for that back now. Isn’t that right b–,” he trailed off as he watched Horace and Lionel’s grins dropped as their eyebrows lift.
“What’s the matter with you two?” he asked as he turned back to realize he was staring through the slingshot’s wooden arms, directly in target of Jasper’s marble, which he had placed in the leather patch and stretched back over his shoulder.
“You were saying?” jasper said.

IMAGE CREDIT