“Wind up that yo-yo and let’s get out of here!”
Mirabelle began to slowly wind the yo-yo.
“Not fast enough!” The panic in Geraldine voice was palpable. She grabbed at the yo-yo and stuffed it into her pocket, unheeding of the tangled mess of string she was creating.
Left at Bartholomew’s picket fence, right under the oak tree, down into the valley, around the bend, over the log, right of the shed, through the creek, up another hill. Where were they, anyhow?
The two girls stopped to get their bearings. They were utterly lost.
What’s that string? asked Mirabelle.
The string from the yo-yo in Geraldine’s pocket had gotten snagged on a twig. Mirabelle thought back to the story she had heard about a bull with a man’s head, or was it the other way around? Something about unwinding string and following it back to find your way out or something?
Well, nothing better to do. They began to follow the string.
Putting a quarter mile long string on a yo-yo is a stupid idea, but it sure can come in handy sometimes.
Photo by David Waschbufcsch on Pexels.com