No Sleep For Skel Jolly Phonics ยท Step 3, Unit 5: /ee/ mixed
Practice Words
Skel has a list, and the list is as long as his arm. Chop the wood. Plant the seeds. Give the crop a drink. Pull the weeds. He swings his tool so fast the dirt flies up in clouds. 'No time to rest!' Skel says. 'I am in a rush, rush, rush!'
The sun goes down. The sky turns pink, then dark. Skel looks at his bench. His fine, soft bench. He can sit. He can rest his old bones. He can even sleep. 'No,' says Skel. 'Sleep is for the weak.'
'Zom,' says Jack with a frown. 'When did Skel last sleep?' Skel counts. Three weeks. Three weeks with no sleep! 'Skel needs rest,' says Jack. 'Beasts come for the ones who will not sleep.' 'No beasts will get me,' says Skel.
'I do not need sleep,' says Skel. 'I need a quest!' He grabs his bow and marches out into the night. Bones trots beside him. 'We will be back by morning,' Skel calls. 'With loot!'
They hunt on the hills. They hunt by the river. They hunt under the bright stars. Bones's gut growls. Skel can feel his gut growl even more. 'We do not stop,' says Skel. 'Not to eat. Not for a snack. Not even for a sweet treat. We must not slow down!'
And what loot it is! Gems that gleam. A heap so big it can hide Bones. But now Skel is weak. His bow hangs low in his hand. Bones slumps down, spent. 'I am not sleepy,' says Skel. 'I am just resting my face.'
Then, a sound! It is like sheets that snap in a storm. Skel peers up. A green glow beams down at him from the dark. A phantom! Phantoms seek out those who will not sleep. And this one seems hungry.
'Flee!' screams Skel. Which is silly, because he is fleeing as fast as he can. Bones zooms past him at top speed. More phantoms dive down from the clouds, wings flapping. Skel can see his home. Just up the path. Run, Skel, run!
Clang! Zom smashes his green blade into a phantom. Thwack! Jack swings his blade and sends one spinning off. 'Go!' yells Jack. 'Get inside!' This time, Skel does just what he is told.
Skel drops his bow by the wall. He puts his gold in the chest. He does not count it. He does not sort it. He does not even peek. He flops onto his bed and tugs up the sheet. 'Gee,' says Skel with a smile. 'Sleep is a sweet, sweet treat.' And soon he is deep, deep asleep.
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