Challeng #62:The Wand Chooses the Wizard
Title: A Safe Place
Rating/Warnings: PG
Characters/Pairing: Wand, Witch
Summary: A wand learns what "home" feels like.
Word Count: 517
Author's Notes: It's my first post here, so I hope I did this right.
Registered purchases?: N/A
The box was cold, stuffy. Only the half soft, half scratchy feel of the cloth that I was wrapped in reminded me of my very existence. I had spent so long in the dark. There had been a brief period in my long existence where they had attempted to find me a home. In that brief time, I was passed from hand to hand.
The box would open and the cloth would be moved. In that instant I would feel a rush of cool, fresh air. Or at least fresh to me, even then I was aware of the smell of dust. I would feel the strong, aged hands of my creator. Each twitch of his fingers gave me the familiar feeling of his well trained muscles wrapping around me and reminding me of when I was given existence. Then he would hand me off.
The first time I was handled was the worst. If I could have screamed, I would have. The hand that gripped me was small, but strong. It held me too tightly and I felt like I was suffocating. It was rough and calloused, having seen far too much work for someone who was so young. I could feel the boys fears, his nervousness and I started to be overcome with the feelings. In response to the feeling I fought to escape pushing my power out of ever grain. It felt like eternity before I was removed from the boy and put back in my box.
The next time was not as bad. I was taken from the nurturing hands of my maker into the grabby hands of a teenager. His hand was sweaty and I felt him losing grip on me. I wanted to squirm to remove myself from the hot, wet, slippery confines. Again, I pushed myself toward escape and not soon afterward I was placed gently back in my box.
Each time I was handled I wanted to hide in my box forever. No one felt as nurturing or gentle as my creator. Not one of them made me feel safe and well cared for. Each only sent off feelings of wanting me for their own purpose, oblivious to how I would be treated in the mean time.
And then she came.
I was taken from the box again, the cool air wrapping around me. I dreaded the next trial. I didn’t want to be manhandled again I just wanted to be left alone. But her small, delicate fingers wrapped around me gently. Her hand was smooth and soft. In her hand I felt welcome. She wanted me, for me and I fit in her grasp securely. I felt a sigh of relief escape, from my core through the grains. I felt her gentle intentions and generosity as it slid from her fingertips to my wood.
I was put back in the box before I was ready, almost scared that I wouldn’t be near her again. But as the lid closed and I felt movement I could still sense her gentle aura around me, and I knew I was home.
Jillian - Hufflepuff
Rating/Warnings: PG
Characters/Pairing: Wand, Witch
Summary: A wand learns what "home" feels like.
Word Count: 517
Author's Notes: It's my first post here, so I hope I did this right.
Registered purchases?: N/A
The box was cold, stuffy. Only the half soft, half scratchy feel of the cloth that I was wrapped in reminded me of my very existence. I had spent so long in the dark. There had been a brief period in my long existence where they had attempted to find me a home. In that brief time, I was passed from hand to hand.
The box would open and the cloth would be moved. In that instant I would feel a rush of cool, fresh air. Or at least fresh to me, even then I was aware of the smell of dust. I would feel the strong, aged hands of my creator. Each twitch of his fingers gave me the familiar feeling of his well trained muscles wrapping around me and reminding me of when I was given existence. Then he would hand me off.
The first time I was handled was the worst. If I could have screamed, I would have. The hand that gripped me was small, but strong. It held me too tightly and I felt like I was suffocating. It was rough and calloused, having seen far too much work for someone who was so young. I could feel the boys fears, his nervousness and I started to be overcome with the feelings. In response to the feeling I fought to escape pushing my power out of ever grain. It felt like eternity before I was removed from the boy and put back in my box.
The next time was not as bad. I was taken from the nurturing hands of my maker into the grabby hands of a teenager. His hand was sweaty and I felt him losing grip on me. I wanted to squirm to remove myself from the hot, wet, slippery confines. Again, I pushed myself toward escape and not soon afterward I was placed gently back in my box.
Each time I was handled I wanted to hide in my box forever. No one felt as nurturing or gentle as my creator. Not one of them made me feel safe and well cared for. Each only sent off feelings of wanting me for their own purpose, oblivious to how I would be treated in the mean time.
And then she came.
I was taken from the box again, the cool air wrapping around me. I dreaded the next trial. I didn’t want to be manhandled again I just wanted to be left alone. But her small, delicate fingers wrapped around me gently. Her hand was smooth and soft. In her hand I felt welcome. She wanted me, for me and I fit in her grasp securely. I felt a sigh of relief escape, from my core through the grains. I felt her gentle intentions and generosity as it slid from her fingertips to my wood.
I was put back in the box before I was ready, almost scared that I wouldn’t be near her again. But as the lid closed and I felt movement I could still sense her gentle aura around me, and I knew I was home.
Jillian - Hufflepuff