My parents thought it would be best if they did not enrol me in school until I have found my magic-type.
Which I spend means I spend my days running around the docks of London. Surrounded by empties and talentless magic-folk.
Mrs. Kelly bakes amazing fish pie. Mr. Harlow and his son Thompson Harlow let me travel with them out on the river, I even get to gut some of the small, deformed fish they catch. Not to mention Elle, the orphan girl, tells the funniest of stories.
Its in the moments where I do not predict someone's life by their magical status, or how wealthy their families are but rather how their smiles glow, and how hard their hands work. I judge them by the dirt under their longs nails, means that they are stronger, loyal, hard, committed people. when the day is done, and they return to their small homes, and rather than wallow in shame of their status, they smile, feed their children, and pray.
My own family was like another wealthy family. Far too wealthy and distanced. My brothers attend their school work, my sisters chat and gossip, my mother sews, my father reads, and I look around for a shred of family, but it is hidden under heaps and spools of hand made blankets,and well-kept books.
there is a gate around myself. Perhaps its made of iron, or gold. I wonder if Tommy has a gate around him. I'll ask him tomorrow.
I turn to the glowing candle stump my dresser. My attic room was chilly, the fire dead and naught an ember glowing in the empty brick fireplace.
Th night swarms around me, dressing my bed in a thick, jet black coat.
I lie on my back, staring directly at the wooden ceiling.
Grandmother used to say, Dreams were meant to be caught, and fears were meant to be freed. Oh, do some dreams escape, and do we catch some fears.
I push magic through my finger tips, and it glows.
Slowly, I slip under the night blanket. My eyes heavy and tired from the day before. the magic glowing at my fingers drifts back into my veins, like a warm poison. a venom we crave.
Tomorrow, I try to break my gate.
***
Which I spend means I spend my days running around the docks of London. Surrounded by empties and talentless magic-folk.
Mrs. Kelly bakes amazing fish pie. Mr. Harlow and his son Thompson Harlow let me travel with them out on the river, I even get to gut some of the small, deformed fish they catch. Not to mention Elle, the orphan girl, tells the funniest of stories.
Its in the moments where I do not predict someone's life by their magical status, or how wealthy their families are but rather how their smiles glow, and how hard their hands work. I judge them by the dirt under their longs nails, means that they are stronger, loyal, hard, committed people. when the day is done, and they return to their small homes, and rather than wallow in shame of their status, they smile, feed their children, and pray.
My own family was like another wealthy family. Far too wealthy and distanced. My brothers attend their school work, my sisters chat and gossip, my mother sews, my father reads, and I look around for a shred of family, but it is hidden under heaps and spools of hand made blankets,and well-kept books.
there is a gate around myself. Perhaps its made of iron, or gold. I wonder if Tommy has a gate around him. I'll ask him tomorrow.
I turn to the glowing candle stump my dresser. My attic room was chilly, the fire dead and naught an ember glowing in the empty brick fireplace.
Th night swarms around me, dressing my bed in a thick, jet black coat.
I lie on my back, staring directly at the wooden ceiling.
Grandmother used to say, Dreams were meant to be caught, and fears were meant to be freed. Oh, do some dreams escape, and do we catch some fears.
I push magic through my finger tips, and it glows.
Slowly, I slip under the night blanket. My eyes heavy and tired from the day before. the magic glowing at my fingers drifts back into my veins, like a warm poison. a venom we crave.
Tomorrow, I try to break my gate.
***
