The air smelled of summer rain as I ran through the fields behind my house. I was listening intently to the sweet song of the birds and the plinks of the last raindrops falling through the leaves of the trees. It was then I heard a voice.

“You are the only hope for summer,” the voice said.

It sounded as if it came from the deep roots of the Earth. I came to a  dead stop. I had heard this voice before, in my dreams, and I decided I should do something about it. I was confused as I felt a snowflake fall on my head. Summer was in trouble. My eyes strayed back to the ground. In front of me, I saw a human, handsome, but with a deadly look in his eyes. He was holding a stick, spinning it in the air, making the raindrops turn to snow.

"There is no hope for summer!" he called.   

I ran up to him and knocked the stick out of his hand. Everything  stopped. I dropped the stick on the ground and broke it into fourths. The man dwindled in a bright light, summer was saved, and all was normal.

© 2009 Hima V. Original for CCF. Hima V. grants CCF first electronic rights for one month; CCF may archive the material indefinitely and include it in an eBook anthology.

* CCF does not publish students' last names on the work they submit for publication.