Kingdom Come

It looked like a simple game of capture the flag between grade-school children, two teams running through the forest behind a house, shouting and laughing and having the time of their lives. They had their bases, treehouses which had been built years prior by parents on the block, and they had their flags and water balloons. They played all through the day, until the sun began to set.

The game was different for those on the inside, however, and the leader of one team would prove it. He raised his flag high above his head, which had been made of an old red shirt tied around a stick, and as he had every time before, he called out, “With this flag, I mark this land as my kingdom!”

He jabbed the flag powerfully into the dirt at his feet, magic flowing outward, washing over the world. It glistened in the amber light of the setting sun, exciting the children and driving them to watch in awe.

“Your kingdom will be mine!” shouted the other leader, who defiantly jabbed his own flag into the ground.

Before the children’s very eyes, the forest shifted into a vast world. Trees became massive watchtowers, water balloons became arrows, and the treehouses became grand castles.

This was the world the children lived in, day in and day out. This was the magic that they had, the magic of their imagination that adults couldn’t help but marvel at. This was what made what should’ve been a quiet world that much louder, that much more inspiring.

Anyone looking in saw only children playing, but none could deny their carefree innocence, and all longed to be like them once again.