Aim

The Ox

After breakfast I snuck out the back door while my mom finished the laundry.

I kept one eye on the laundry room window and ducked behind the bushes every time my mom walked by.

I got to the wagon and stood five feet away catching my breath. Once I regained it I stood up taller and put one hand on my pocket knife my dad gave me on my tenth birthday.

I took one slow step at a time towards the wagon.

My foot hit something and I sprang back. It clattered to the gravel. I looked around, scared that someone might have heard.

The object came in two parts. One was a piece of wood like material bend into a C with a sting attached to either end and the other was a long stick with a sharp point on the end.

I looked around again and then picked up the sharp stick thing. I held it high and got ready in case I needed it in defense.

There was a loud snort and then the wagon shook violently. I stepped back until the shaking stopped.

I had completely forgot about the ox.