"En garde," the boys cried as they swung their swords through the air. They chased one another through the open field. Evan and his gang had fancy swords, expensive ones, bought by their parents that flashed red and blue when you slashed through the air. Jake stood at the edge of the park watching them in his hand-me-down clothes. He'd never fit in here, he never fit anywhere. He turned to leave, dropping his sword stick in the mucky creek. As he watched the water ripple something caught his attention on the opposite shore. Two skeletal hands stretched out of the mud toward a sword buried almost up to its hilt in a human skull. Pirates!! Jake's eyes lit up. He'd have a sword after all. And if there was a sword, there was bound to be treasure!
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