Skyfall Arrows

Skyfall Arrows

Back when we were kids, we lived up on the north side of a big ol’ boulevard that cut right through the valley like a lazy river of concrete. Our house sat on a little rise, and right across that boulevard stretched miles of open fields—wild and golden, sloping all the way down to the ocean if you squinted just right. On the left were the apartment buildings where I delivered newspapers. It was a paradise for kids with dirt on their knees and nothing but time.

One blazing summer afternoon, I was out in those fields with my older brother and a gang of neighborhood kids—probably seven of us in all. Each of us had a homemade bow slung over our shoulders and a handful of target arrows we’d bought at at the local toy store. We were on the hunt for jackrabbits, not that we ever caught any. Mostly we just had fun exploring the open fields.

That day, the rabbits were smarter than us and stayed well hidden. After a while, we all just stood around in the waist-high grass, bows in hand, itching to shoot something.

Then I had an idea. "Hey," I said, grinning like a fool, "what if we shoot ‘em straight up in the air?"

The others looked at me. Then at each other. Then grinned back.

So we did.

We raised our bows to the sky like some ancient ceremony and let loose a storm of arrows. There was a weird moment of silence after they disappeared into the blue, like time itself was holding its breath. We just stood there staring, waiting, grinning.

Thump.
One landed in the ground about twenty feet away.
Thump-thump-thump. A bunch more followed, like they were dropping from heaven.
We thought it was the funniest thing ever.

"Okay, okay," I said, feeling real smart, "what if we tilt just a little to the west, like... fifteen degrees?" Everyone nodded. Genius move. We let loose a second volley of arrows.

Same pause. Same staring up at the sky. But this time… after a few long seconds, we all had the same thought at the exact same moment. We looked at each other and realization dawned on us.

"RUN!"

We scattered like ants, arms flailing, arrows raining down right where we’d been standing. One hit with a thunk just inches from where my foot had been. Another landed in someone’s backpack. It was chaos. We all ran in different directions. No sooner had we moved, running in different directions, we heard the arrows striking the ground. They fell with a thump, first one, then many, thump, thump, thump.

It was glorious. Once we’d all caught our breath and counted our fingers and toes, we laughed till our sides hurt. A sky full of pointy sticks on a summer afternoon. We didn’t try it again, but it was fun.