The Six Year Old's Drug
I sat there, book in hand, and face gleaming with a welcoming smile. "Story-time!" From start to finish, they literally dove into the book like addicts looking for their next hit, to escape reality. Fairy tales, what a cheap drug. I spun the tale as the eight sat there, legs crossed, eyes in awe, a droplet of drool hanging from their prepubescent mouths.
They flew with aid of monarch butterfly wings, crafting morning dew in early daybreak with the Pixies of Shalot. They had battled for days, weak and bloody, they finally had slain the five-headed dragon and in the process were burnt by its wrath and fiery breath. They rescued the Duchess of Malidor and her Unicorn from the bloodthirsty sea dogs, and were awarded with the star of valor. They sold their souls to the Wind Witch for the chance of happiness and true love. They journeyed through this world without breathing a word, or moving from their seats. They simply sat and absorbed the fantasy and made it reality as I concluded their trip with, "...and so they lived happily ever after.