Drabble
(I changed my last post to private. Though most of you saw it, I feel uncomfortable leaving it out in the open, more because these are thoughts I don't want to mark permanently on here..though I don't regret sharing them)
On to the drabble. I can't really draw anything Tom related these days. I try and then I stop midway. Instead, I have the urge to write about him.
This is only a small scene (~400 words). Orphanage Tom and muggles everywhere..wee!
The boy’s dark hair was barely visible behind the large book he held up to his face. Sitting upright, his eyes ventured tentatively above the yellowed pages. Commotion unraveled at the opposite end of the barren hallway.
There at the door, Mrs. Cole smiled at her two guests, her hand on the strange old woman’s back inviting her inside. The white haired man behind let go of the door handle. To the boy’s lament, he and what must have been his wife had caught his prying look. The boy retreated behind the safety of his book.
“Come and see, Mrs. And Mr. Bagger. Feel free to meet our children. God knows our poor little ones need a home.”
Mr. Bagger whispered something to his wife. She eagerly nodded. “What a cute child!” he heard her say.
The boy’s heartbeat accelerated. He felt the sudden urge to run away but didn’t move.
The three adults approached him in stride, the clatter of footsteps resonating empty against the tiled floor.
“Ancient Tales of Greek Mythology,” said the man a few feet above. He looked pleased. “How old are you, dear boy?”
Tom lowered his book and looked up. “Almost ten, sir.” He looked wary. The man knelt in front of him. Tom’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
“And what is your name, my boy?” asked the man.
Tom tilted his head toward Mrs. Cole instead. She’d turn around to face the hall’s single window, peering through the glass panel at the annoying others playing outside. She looked as if she were unaware of anyone’s presence within her immediate surroundings.
His eyes shifted back to the man, his face expressionless.
“Why do you want to know my name?” he asked in a commanding tone. The man, taken aback, glanced up to his wife who’d mirrored his expression.
“Oh Tom! Answer Mr. Bagger!” said Mrs. Cole suddenly, but she hadn’t moved and it seemed like Tom had imagined hearing her.
“My name’s Tom Riddle, sir.” said the boy reluctantly. He paused. ‘You should've told me yours first. I’m told not to speak to strangers.”
Mrs. Bagger let out a stifled little cry resembling laughter. Behind her Mrs. Cole didn’t look so amused.
“Mrs. And Mr. Bagger…if you will. I’d like to exchange a few words with you in my office,” she said, gesturing to a shabby looking door. “Tom, you can go now.”
The boy nodded and walked away.
“He’s an odd one: bright but odd. You’re better off choosing another child,” he overhead as he turned the last corner.
On to the drabble. I can't really draw anything Tom related these days. I try and then I stop midway. Instead, I have the urge to write about him.
This is only a small scene (~400 words). Orphanage Tom and muggles everywhere..wee!
The boy’s dark hair was barely visible behind the large book he held up to his face. Sitting upright, his eyes ventured tentatively above the yellowed pages. Commotion unraveled at the opposite end of the barren hallway.
There at the door, Mrs. Cole smiled at her two guests, her hand on the strange old woman’s back inviting her inside. The white haired man behind let go of the door handle. To the boy’s lament, he and what must have been his wife had caught his prying look. The boy retreated behind the safety of his book.
“Come and see, Mrs. And Mr. Bagger. Feel free to meet our children. God knows our poor little ones need a home.”
Mr. Bagger whispered something to his wife. She eagerly nodded. “What a cute child!” he heard her say.
The boy’s heartbeat accelerated. He felt the sudden urge to run away but didn’t move.
The three adults approached him in stride, the clatter of footsteps resonating empty against the tiled floor.
“Ancient Tales of Greek Mythology,” said the man a few feet above. He looked pleased. “How old are you, dear boy?”
Tom lowered his book and looked up. “Almost ten, sir.” He looked wary. The man knelt in front of him. Tom’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
“And what is your name, my boy?” asked the man.
Tom tilted his head toward Mrs. Cole instead. She’d turn around to face the hall’s single window, peering through the glass panel at the annoying others playing outside. She looked as if she were unaware of anyone’s presence within her immediate surroundings.
His eyes shifted back to the man, his face expressionless.
“Why do you want to know my name?” he asked in a commanding tone. The man, taken aback, glanced up to his wife who’d mirrored his expression.
“Oh Tom! Answer Mr. Bagger!” said Mrs. Cole suddenly, but she hadn’t moved and it seemed like Tom had imagined hearing her.
“My name’s Tom Riddle, sir.” said the boy reluctantly. He paused. ‘You should've told me yours first. I’m told not to speak to strangers.”
Mrs. Bagger let out a stifled little cry resembling laughter. Behind her Mrs. Cole didn’t look so amused.
“Mrs. And Mr. Bagger…if you will. I’d like to exchange a few words with you in my office,” she said, gesturing to a shabby looking door. “Tom, you can go now.”
The boy nodded and walked away.
“He’s an odd one: bright but odd. You’re better off choosing another child,” he overhead as he turned the last corner.