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Post by Retiarius Corso on Jan 20, 2012 6:35:41 GMT -5
The story has such a common theme.
We sign the line and we join the scene.
The sweet aroma of freshly made pancakes, fried bacon and ground coffee wafted through the Leaky Cauldron. There were many witches and wizards situated around a long wooden table, pouring themselves glasses of orange juice and black coffee. Mr. Corso was one of them. He dug his fork into the undercooked, doughy pancake and placed it onto his tongue. It was heaven; just what he needed after that morning’s events. He drowned the second pancake on his plate in maple syrup and then began on his bacon.
Retiarius wasn’t here alone. There was a five year old child beside him. Her face was covered in mud, hair dark as raven feathers and there were bandages around her arms. She too shoveled mouthful after mouthful into her mouth. She looked sickly, like she hadn’t eaten a meal in a couple days. She was upon her scrambled eggs in no time, gulping them down with a mouthful of the sweet orange juice.
It was hard not to think back to earlier: the playground, the dog with smoke-like fur and skin as dark as charcoal. Retiarius shivered at the thought. Was it just his overhauled imagination mixed with his tiredness? No. It had to have been the Grimm. No mistake. He had just bit into a slice of bacon when a witch spoke to him from across the table. “I know you. You’re the least attractive man in your family.”
To say this caught him off guard was an understatement. “Well, that can be explained very easily.” He replied to the unkind witch. “I’m the youngest child in the family. My older brothers got the best genes, by the time it got to me, what could be spared was an awkward face and messy hair.” He smiled back at her, and then proceeded to shovel a mouthful of egg into his mouth. “You know, my brothers are rather uptight individuals too. Kind of a stick in the mud, unlike me. I have a personality, something that I got from having this horrible mug so, buh-huh, yourself.” He couldn’t hold back the sneer that crept across his face.
Just as the witch was about to get back to her business, the little girl sat up in her chair and flung a spoonful of egg at her. It hit her nicely pressed robe, leaving a yellow mark down them. “You leave Rat-or-rious alone. He saved me from a really bad dog this morning.” She then sat back down and smiled her crooked smile; the witch having left the table offended by their actions.
It was right then that Retiarius’ eyes landed on a familiar face in the crowed. It had been awhile since he’d last seen her, but nothing had changed. She still had that pale skin, freckled face, and red hair that seemed to catch the light perfectly. He sunk embarrassed into the back of his chair. Had she just witnessed what had happened?
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