seven

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James and Betty ran barefoot down the winding dirt path, wildflowers and tall grass brushing their ankles. Golden rays of sunlight filtered through the towering oak trees, casting long, monstrous shadows on the ground below. Somewhere high in the branches, a mourning dove cooed its soft, melancholy song.

They arrived at the creek, dipping their toes into the cool water. Smooth pebbles lined the shore, each one a potential treasure waiting to be discovered.

James, a lanky boy with untamed brown hair, knelt beside the water. Despite being only a few months older than Betty, he stood a whole head taller. His eyes fixed on a makeshift sailboat he had crafted from a large leaf and a twig. Carefully, he set it afloat, and the two of them watched in silence as it drifted downstream, navigating the tiny currents.

Betty picked up a slender stick and poked it into the water, stirring up the muddy bottom. Her eyes lit up when she spotted a tadpole darting by. Grabbing her mason jar, she quickly scooped it up and held the jar high, grinning as the tiny creature wiggled inside.

"I got one, James!" she exclaimed, beaming with pride.

Her hazel eyes shifted to the rope swing hanging from a low branch of the oak tree. She had always dreamed of soaring over the creek, but until that day—June 10, 1979—she had never been brave enough to try.

Standing at the edge, Betty gripped the rope with her small hands. "Will you catch me if I fall?" she called, her voice wavering slightly.

"Always," James replied.

With a deep breath, Betty stepped back, her toes sinking into the dewy grass. Eyes squeezed shut, she leaped forward. The air rushed past her, and a high-pitched scream of exhilaration escaped her as she swung seven feet above the creek. Her outstretched legs grazed the soft grass as she swung back toward the oak.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, they promised each other they'd return to their secret kingdom soon,  their minds already racing to plan the next adventure.

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