The Halloween Flying
Canoe
By
Valerie L. Egar
In
the great Northern woods of Maine and Canada, everyone knows that with the
right magic, an ordinary canoe can fly. Nine year old Dennis was familiar with the
stories, his Grandfather had told him about flying canoes often. Dennis looked
at the silver canoe stored in the garage. If he could figure out how to make it
fly in time for Halloween, he could zoom through the air with his friends and
they could double, maybe even triple the amount of candy they got.
They’d start trick
or treating in their own neighborhood, then hop in the canoe and fly to
Portland. If they finished Portland early, they could try another town or two—
Kennebunk, Biddeford, Saco. Dennis
wasn’t sure how far they’d go, but he knew by the end of the night, they’d have
a lot of candy. All he had to do was figure out how to make the canoe fly.
Early every
morning, he climbed into the canoe and tried a few magic words— Abracadabra!
Shazaam! Dosedoh! Nothing. “I command
you to fly!” Dennis said a few times
with a very firm voice. He thought he felt a little quiver, but that was just
his imagination. Words alone were not
going to do the trick.
Perhaps, like
Harry Potter, he needed a magic wand to make the canoe fly. He walked in the
woods and found a nice straight oak branch. He waved it in the air and it felt just right. Later that day,
he waved the wand over the canoe. “Up! Up!” he yelled. His dog Spark jumped,
but nothing else happened.
Maybe it took more
than one person to make a canoe fly. Dennis had wanted to surprise his friends
Karl and C.J. with his Halloween idea, but since it wasn’t working, he decided
to tell them about his plan and ask if they had any ideas.
“I think canoes
only fly at night,” said C.J. “You’ve
tried during the day.”
“Good point.”
Karl frowned.
“That is a good point, but some kind of energy has to make it fly,” he said. “What lifts it into the sky? What keeps it
there? That’s what we have to figure out.”
Dennis shook his
head. “You’re thinking about it like it’s an airplane that has engines and runs
on fuel. Magic lifts it up and magic keeps it in the sky. We’re looking for the
magic.”
The next night,
the boys dragged the canoe into the yard. They sat in it and concentrated on
flying high over the treetops. Dennis waved his wand and C.J. said magic words. Nothing.
“Maybe we need
paddles?” said Karl.
“Good idea.”
They tried again,
this time, paddling the air briskly. Nothing.
They were disappointed.
“Halloween is magical,” Dennis said. “Let’s give it one more try on Halloween.”
The lights below
were beautiful. They were high enough to see ships in Portland harbor and
flashing lights from lighthouses along the coast, red and blue neon in shopping
centers, car lights along the turnpike.
Above them, thousands of stars twinkled and a slice of moon looked like a smile. The boys stared, enchanted.
Above them, thousands of stars twinkled and a slice of moon looked like a smile. The boys stared, enchanted.
The canoe drifted
quietly among wispy clouds, circled back to the house and quietly landed, just as C.J. and Karl’s mothers arrived to pick
them up. Not once had the boys thought about
interrupting their magical ride to do more trick or treating.
“Was that real?”
Dennis whispered to C.J. and Karl before school started the next day. The boys
nodded, and the three promised never to tell anyone. Words couldn’t capture the wonder of the sky
high canoe ride and no one would believe them anyway.
Like the story? Please share with your FACEBOOK friends and 'like' or comment.
Copyright 2017 by Valerie L. Egar. May not be copied or reproduced without permission from the author.
Published October 22, 2017, Journal Tribune Sunday (Biddeford, ME).
Like the story? Please share with your FACEBOOK friends and 'like' or comment.
Copyright 2017 by Valerie L. Egar. May not be copied or reproduced without permission from the author.
Published October 22, 2017, Journal Tribune Sunday (Biddeford, ME).
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