Crash landing after an epic adventure

Children of the Corn!

I thought my brother John and I were in the Stephen King horror classic when we tumbled down a hillside directly into a cornfield along the edge of the church property.

While my chief playmate didn’t have red hair like our paternal grandmother, his face, however, was totally covered with freckles; so, he must have been Malachai Boardman, the film’s primary antagonist.

Since I was younger and shorter, I must have been Isaac Chroner, the forerunner of “He Who Walks Behind The Rows.” After all, I was the son of a preacher man; and people often stated I would one day follow in his footsteps.

Following our plunge down the slope, I was waiting for the dizzying fog to clear from my head. I thought I might see a sacrificial lamb tied to the scarecrow pole in the middle of the tall green leafy stalks awaiting their doom.

However, that diabolical interlude never transpired since I was only five years old when my sibling and I fell off his bicycle and the fiendish flick didn’t hit movie theaters for another twelve years.

My big brother and I had just finished taking a wild ride on our brand new swing set’s seesaw glider which nearly flipped the children’s entertainment apparatus over the hill with the potential for landing us in the creek.

Now, we were on to our next epic adventure with a two-wheeler.

“Do you wanna go ride my bike with me?” queried John after getting off the seesaw glider as he walked backwards looking at his partner in crime with a devilish grin.

“I’s don’t even think I’s know how to ride a two-wheeler,” I declared while giving my sibling a sideways grin with outstretched arms. “I’d probably fall right off.”

“No, silly,” laughed the six-year-old as he put his arm around me while walking across the gravel. “I’ll be riding the bike and you’ll be sitting behind me holding on tight.”

“Dad helped me learn how to ride my bike last week,” he continued as we reached the stairs going up to the back porch. “But I need to take a couple laps myself before you get on with me.”

I climbed the two steps to the landing where I sat with my legs hanging over the edge while my big brother went into “The Dungeon” to get his bike.

The minister’s firstborn came flying out of the basement door as he rode his bike all the way across the parking lot before taking it down the lane.

After he came rolling back, the six-year-old said he was going to take one more trip to the end of the lane before he would be ready to take his first passenger for an inaugural run.

While the freckle-faced lad went for another spin on his brand new bicycle, I raised my hands and grasped the railing above as I swung myself back and forth through the large opening. After picking up some speed, I flung my body through the opening one last time and let go as I stuck the landing on my hands and feet. I was astonished at my acrobatic feat.

Just when I finished up my individual gymnastics routine, my big brother returned from his short jaunt down to Oliver Avenue. John leaned over the bicycle; so I could hop on the back, However, he was unable to lift the mode of transportation back upright. We decided to use the landing on the stairwell to our advantage. The kindergarten graduate climbed through the post and hopped on the bike with ease. After I wrapped my arms around my brother’s waist, the dynamic duo sped off across the gravel parking lot toward the lane.

As we cruised passed the Andrecheck’s backyard, John made a wide turn into the grass next to the creek before picking up speed, which enabled us to get back on the path again. The whippersnappers made two more trips up and down the lane before our little adventure came to an abrupt end.

“I’m gonna stop over here in the grass, but don’t let go of me,” declared John as he turned his head to notify his younger sibling. “But put your leg out to touch the ground when I lean the bike over.”

As we came to a stop in the thick grass, the rising second grader’s tippy toes barely touched the ground. When he tilted the bike over to the side, I pulled my brother off the bike. The mischievous little hooligans that we were rolled on top of one another as we went down a small slope between two bushes and landed in Mr. Andrecheck’s garden.

“Are you all right,” queried the freckle-faced lad lifting his head off my chest as we looked into each others blue eyes. “You didn’t get hurt did you.”

“Not really,” I laughed from the bottom of the two-man pile glancing up at the cornstalks towering over us. “We didn’t have far to fall; but then we rolled down this hill.”

“You told me not to let go of you,” I added as we began giggling with uproarious laughter while we helped each other to their feet. “So I made sure to hang on as tight as I could.”

Needless to say, it was quite some time before my brother attempted to tote me on the back of his two-wheeler. We didn’t want to have to make another trip to the emergency room.