In absence of actual story writing assignments:
An Early Morning Coffee Break
(a drabbly plotless pointless briefly edited Young Wizards fanfic- Gr 9 adjective assignment)
The stars were still out. They were comforting, in a remotely cool way. A faint, steady pulse, the little pinpricks of light embedded in the early morning darkness gave little hint to the boiling fire of their true selves.
Down amid the maze of streets and dark slumbering houses, among whispering branches and drowsy songbirds preparing for their dawn chorus, a tall man stood silently on his dew soaked lawn. He nursed his scalding mug of coffee and regarded the stars like greeting old friends.
"Regulus," the young man murmured. "Arcturus...Rigel..."
"Betelgeuse- the stars are bright this morning." The man smiled at the willow tree's drawl.
"Yes, they are beautiful. I haven't seen them for quite awhile. I've been too busy..." He ran a hand through his prematurely silvering hair as he spoke, then sighed.
"Too busy even to talk to me?" A slightly hurt tone edged the tree's rustling voice, but was erased by its sighing laugh. "Don't feel guilty, T'hom. You have many important things to do and look after as an esteemed Senior Wizard." The man was silent.
"Sometimes...I wonder if I'd be happier if I wasn't a Senior," he said finally.
"But you are a Senior. A very dedicated Senior. And you have at least five errantry matters awaiting your attention right now if I'm not mistaken, and that Times article you were complaining about to Carl yesterday to write- which was to be picked up today, if I'm not mistaken." Tom sighed again, knowing the venerable willow was right, but didn't move. In the east, light silvered rooftops across the city toward Tom's neighbourhood, splashing over the little hill where his house stood. Tom was struck by the surrealism of the scene: the stately stars visibly wheeled through the paling sky as a new day thrust its arms toward them, and no one stood on the empty street to witness the silver and scarlet dawn but the willow tree and himself.
And the dog. She bounced up to Tom, paying no attention to the silent fanfare heralding the morning, and pawed him beseechingly.
"Ready for some breakfast now, huh?" laughed Tom, petting the grey sheepdog.
"Food! Yayayayah," she barked deafeningly, racing back into the house. Filled with the majestic, tranquil dawn, Tom followed his dog to the five messages, one giant alien slug and one early, terrified Fed-Ex man waiting inside with an irate Carl.
And so another normal day began.
---
For disclaimer, see profile. (Do under-eighteens like me own anything?)
(a drabbly plotless pointless briefly edited Young Wizards fanfic- Gr 9 adjective assignment)
The stars were still out. They were comforting, in a remotely cool way. A faint, steady pulse, the little pinpricks of light embedded in the early morning darkness gave little hint to the boiling fire of their true selves.
Down amid the maze of streets and dark slumbering houses, among whispering branches and drowsy songbirds preparing for their dawn chorus, a tall man stood silently on his dew soaked lawn. He nursed his scalding mug of coffee and regarded the stars like greeting old friends.
"Regulus," the young man murmured. "Arcturus...Rigel..."
"Betelgeuse- the stars are bright this morning." The man smiled at the willow tree's drawl.
"Yes, they are beautiful. I haven't seen them for quite awhile. I've been too busy..." He ran a hand through his prematurely silvering hair as he spoke, then sighed.
"Too busy even to talk to me?" A slightly hurt tone edged the tree's rustling voice, but was erased by its sighing laugh. "Don't feel guilty, T'hom. You have many important things to do and look after as an esteemed Senior Wizard." The man was silent.
"Sometimes...I wonder if I'd be happier if I wasn't a Senior," he said finally.
"But you are a Senior. A very dedicated Senior. And you have at least five errantry matters awaiting your attention right now if I'm not mistaken, and that Times article you were complaining about to Carl yesterday to write- which was to be picked up today, if I'm not mistaken." Tom sighed again, knowing the venerable willow was right, but didn't move. In the east, light silvered rooftops across the city toward Tom's neighbourhood, splashing over the little hill where his house stood. Tom was struck by the surrealism of the scene: the stately stars visibly wheeled through the paling sky as a new day thrust its arms toward them, and no one stood on the empty street to witness the silver and scarlet dawn but the willow tree and himself.
And the dog. She bounced up to Tom, paying no attention to the silent fanfare heralding the morning, and pawed him beseechingly.
"Ready for some breakfast now, huh?" laughed Tom, petting the grey sheepdog.
"Food! Yayayayah," she barked deafeningly, racing back into the house. Filled with the majestic, tranquil dawn, Tom followed his dog to the five messages, one giant alien slug and one early, terrified Fed-Ex man waiting inside with an irate Carl.
And so another normal day began.
---
For disclaimer, see profile. (Do under-eighteens like me own anything?)