Young Johnny from number twelve believed in magic, while Jake from number fifteen didn’t.
Since they had both reached ‘the age of reason’, according to common law, it was reasonable to assume that they could make up their own minds about what to believe. For a number of uneventful years they had managed to play together quite happily despite this major difference of opinion.
Young Jake had obviously never seen the several centuries of ancient mysticism that twinkled in his friend’s eye. Moreover, little did he know that the event that was about to take place, on that otherwise very ordinary day in Johnny’s back yard, would stay with him for the rest of his life.
It can only be a matter of conjecture as to what really brought the heated argument about.
For Jake it was probably the endless talk of spells and enchantments, or the constant descriptions of potions, elixirs and brews; maybe it was the endless prattling about incantations and hexes. Certainly, Johnny’s mumblings about primordial cosmic wonders had become more frequent.
Maybe, he was simply tired of all the hocus-pocus.
For Johnny, it was most likely the taunting, and the constant undertone of ridicule that seemed to be increasing year by year as they each grew older. It was probably an accumulation of all this that brought it all to a head, that summer morning in Johnny’s back yard.
It happened that on this particular summer day the boys sat on the old bench seat, shaded by the large Maple tree in Johnny’s back yard. The fierceness of the midday sun cast sharp shadows down from the tree’s branches, with their intricate patterns decorating the flagstones.
The wrangling reached fever pitch.
Suddenly, in what can only be described as a fit of pique, Johnny stood up and approached the shadow of a large Maple leaf.
Without looking back at his friend, he stooped and picked it up.
He folded it neatly, put it in his pocket, and went indoors.