Wet snow covered our yard. I grabbed a handful, rolled it forward and created a big ball. Before long, an evil snowman stood in front of me. His stone eyes and buttons, created from the gravel in our driveway, stood out against his white uniform. A wet stocking cap, stuffed with snow, stood erect on his head. His stick arms threatened my kingdom.
“Snowman, stay back. If you want a fight, you better be ready for a good one!” I threatened.
He said—actually, he didn’t say anything. Snowmen don’t talk much.
I hit him with a snowball. One of his buttons dropped to the ground. “Had enough?” I yelled. Stony-eyed, he stood silent. I pelted him with several more snowballs. He began to show the effects of my onslaught. One eye was missing and a couple of his teeth lay at his feet. The stocking cap lay several feet behind him. In his weakened state, I grew brave, moved in, and pulled my sword—the sword from a swordfish—from my belt. It whistled through the air. His head toppled to the ground, dislodging his remaining eye. My kingdom was safe again.
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A road passed in front of our house. It became a border. On the other side was an open field, where the enemy prepared their attacks on my make-believe country. Above the border stretched a maze of power lines. The wires were a defense system. At night, I’d launched snowballs in the direction of the enemy. They became imaginary bombers. If they got through the wires, my bombers were successful in their attack. If they hit the wires, they failed, and disintegrated into puffs of white crystals that sparkled in the brightness of the street light that hung on the pole down the road. I launched one for my side and one for the enemy. They took turns attempting to penetrate the defenses. After ten turns each, the winner was the one who got the most bombers through the wires.
“Michael! Time for bed!” Mum called. The battle was over.
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