The Laughing Spirit

Its voice danced around her, flitting back and forth. You can’t catch me, you can’t catch me. Frustration had not hit her yet, and she was still amused by the simple innocence of the spirit. You can’t catch me, you can’t catch me!

“Come now,” she called, “I just want to see the book!”

You can’t catch me, you can’t catch me!

She laughed, “I bet I can!”

You can’t catch me, you can’t catch me!

Now she held up her hand, creating a perch. An invisible weight settled on it and she tightened her hand. “You see, I did catch you.”

You can’t catch me, you can’t catch me!

“But I just did!”

No, you didn’t!

The frustration finally came out in irritation at the laughing spirit. “Give it to me. Now.”

You can’t catch me, you can’t catch me!

“You’re right. I can’t.” And with a flick of her wrist, all that was left was red on the floor and a book beside the puddle.