(I didn’t take this one.)
Seven brothers shared a swing set built for six. The youngest of them all, Henry, was always forced to wait his turn - which usually meant he was never going to have a chance at swinging towards the milky sky that he always dreamed of one day doing. Nobody knew what he was up to that morning; Henry seemed to up to something. With six older brothers swinging together, Henry headed to sea. Footprints were paved from the house to where the ocean made its closest reach. Henry’s eyes were focused miles ahead from where his six-year-old body was stationed. “What is he doing?” The overused question was passed around like baseball cards - all of which were never passed in the youngest brother’s direction. The squeaking that came from the swings had come to a stop. All eyes were, for once, on Henry. The first step was placed in the foamy water. We’ve all heard stories of men who conquered the sea, but those were just words found in fiction, right? The next step was placed parallel to its other. Sure, there was a book called The Old and the Sea, but who’s to say that today couldn’t have been different? Henry’s body went under. Gasps echoed the desert sandbox as the brothers on the swings ran towards the wet horizon. Silenced by disbelief, the six juveniles found themselves unable to enter the water. Preoccupied with trying to prevent their brother from taking a turn on the swing, they neglected the fact that Henry had taught himself to swim; this was the day that they finally noticed. For once in his life, Henry was respected by his brothers. Sure, they were jealous, but deep down they were suckers for underdog stories. Henry had conquered the sea, and his brothers watched from the swings.
(via conflate)
