With St Patrick's Day coming up, this colleen decided to
read a winningly titled very short (and free) story called TO
CATCH A
LEPRECHAUN. To my delight this tale for the young and young
at heart doesn't take itself the least bit seriously.
The setting feels like America, and two youngsters, Donovan
and Junior, decide while stuck in detention to create a
magical trap for a leprechaun after school. It might bring
them good luck. Or, of course it might not. Magical
gimmicks they appear to have at their disposal, with a home
and garden where the walnut tree might bear almonds from
time to time. What will be required... gold coins perhaps
and a convincing rainbow.
Read, laugh, and be inspired to create your own leprechaun
themed decorations. Emily Martha Sorensen has written other
quirky works such as THE DRAGON AND THE SANTA and TABBY,
TABBY, BURNINGN BRIGHT, and I can safely say that if your
young kids read TO CATCH A LEPRECHAUN they will want to
read her other titles too.
It's really tough to catch a leprechaun.
Especially when
Donovan and Junior's sisters get in the way.
Excerpt
We were in the middle of detention when Junior had his
greatest idea yet.
“Let’s catch a leprechaun!” he
cried,
spinning around in his chair.
My head shot up from writing I will not misbehave
in
class, which was a total lie, and my pencil spun from
my
fingers as it rolled to the floor. “Is that
actually possible? Do leprechauns exist?”
“Shhhh!” the teacher at the front of the
room said, glaring at us.
“Dunno,” Junior said, his eyes yellow
with
mischief, “but wouldn’t it be great if they do?
Don’t you think we should find out?”
“Totally,” I agreed. “Where
do
they hang out?”
“At the end of rainbows,” Junior said
promptly.
“Second warning,” the teacher said
coldly
from the front.
“But where do you find the end of a rainbow?
” I asked. We’d just learned in class
that
rainbows were giant circles, not arches. “I
mean,
circles don’t have an end.”
“Maybe leprechauns live the middle,”
Junior
said.
“Hey, yeah! That would explain why no
one
ever sees them! ’Cause they’re all
looking
for the end!”
“That’s it!” the teacher
snapped. “Another twenty-five lines for each of
you. If you talk again, I’ll make it
fifty.”
I shrugged and picked up my pencil. We already
had
three hundred from the little tiny school-sprinklers-
spraying-
red-fruit-punch-today incident. It wasn’t like
another fifty would make that much difference.
As I started writing again, Junior spun around in
his
seat to give me a thumbs-up. His eyes were back to
the
same dark brown as the rest of his face, but they were
still
glinting with mischief.
Wish my eyes changed color sometimes, I
thought. The Wilkinsons were so lucky for being able
to
do weird things.
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