Rest. I just want to rest. I just want to bundle up into a tinyball on my bed, and sleep. But alas all I have got is deadlines, deadlines, deadlines. Have to do that homework,gotta write paper, better finish that project, oh and dont forget about the quarterly MATH EXAM. Gotta Work Work wOrK WORK. I wish I could just stop, read a book, play a videogame. But all I can do is suffer through it all. Because alas I am to smart or perhaps not smart enough to forget it ALL.
I am waiting.
I am waiting.
I am waiting.
The darkness that once blankets my vision now reveals a brighter and newer day. A day in which I will wait and wait and wait.
I have been standing in the same spot. For hours. For days. I have never left this spot. My feet are covered in soil. I am the Earth.
The sun's beams hit my face. I am blinded by the heavens. I know that it will replenish me. I know that I will be alive again. But still, I wait.
The wind sweeps me from side to side and all that keeps me anchored are my feet in the soil. They want to break free, but I know that I will be here forever.
So I decide to wait. I wait for something, anything to happen.
Every day I sit and wait. I wait for the water to drip from the grey skies, I wait for the sun to shine down on my face and bring me joy. I wait for people to walk by and to pick from the flowers that lay beside me.
Then today, I see someone. My waiting has finally come to an end. He leans down and examines my beautiful physique. I strike a pose that I think will flatter him; maybe he will pick me. Maybe I have waited for the right person to come and bring me home.
He gets up, I wonder where he is going. He has stared at me for so long that I wonder if he is just playing games with my heart. And even so, I cannot bear to wait another day.
He stands so tall beside me, the sun rays that fill me with joy are blocked by him. Perhaps he will be my new joy.
His foot raises in the air like a god, he is about to do something! Oh, how I missed feeling my feet. They have wriggled so far beneath the soil that I cannot feel them anymore. But this being can show me how to move my feet again. He will bring me joy.
His foot is getting closer. And closer. And closer. And suddenly I feel my spine bend and break under his foot. My skin rips apart. My blood is exposed to the air. I can feel everything. I beg him to stop but he will not listen. I cannot speak.
His foot presses me to the Earth, I see nothing but dark.
Why would he do this to me? I was waiting for him, and he did this to me. And now I will never be the same. I will never stand the same. I will never feel the same.
Little Johnny, Miriam’s youngest, saw it first. “Mama, look!” he said to her, pulling on her skirt.
“What is it, Johnny?” she asked a little sharply; there was work to be done after all.
“A boat!” he exclaimed.
“So?” she thought. They lived in a fishing village. What was so exciting about a boat? But she looked to humor her youngest, left behind by his bigger brothers who were helping their father. When she looked, she gasped and opened her eyes wide. “Oh, my,” she whispered. “Come, Johnny.” She dropped her broom, grabbed his hand and ran to the water’s edge.
It had been 20 years since she had last seen the boat. The ship. And him. Everyone had told her it was a dream; an overactive imagination. She must have fallen and hit her head while climbing the rocks where her mother often found her daydreaming. They’d spent days searching for her on the rocks and in the sea. Then there she was, running to the village as if nothing were amiss, telling tales of a big boat, a handsome captain and other nonsense no one believed.
Her mother tucked her into bed where she was made to stay while they checked her head for bumps and her body for bruises. There were none. They shrugged their shoulders and went back to work, grumbling about that daft Miriam frightening her parents and wasting everyone’s time story-telling. Meanwhile, her mother fed her watery soup and listened as she rambled on about the handsome young captain who let her wear beautiful clothes and feast on food the likes of which they’d never seen before.
Once they let her up, she went to the water’s edge every day for weeks, searching the horizon. He’d said he would return, she told them. They told her she was a fool. There was no boat. No captain. Lost in a sea of despair, she finally stopped waiting; hoping. Her parents married her off to the cobbler’s son. She started living as she was meant to do. As they all did.
But the ship had returned; he had returned. She felt his presence though she could distinguish no one in the distance. She smiled a youthful smile; then remembered she’d left youth behind a long time ago. And dreams. A weight settled somewhere in the vicinity of her heart. She lifted her hand to wave.
“Come, Johnny,” she said, turning from the water. “Let’s go home. We have to make breakfast for papa and your brothers.”
“Wait till I tell them about the boat, mama. They’ve never seen such a boat, right mama? It was sooo big…I can’t wait to show it to them. I saw it first, right mama?”
“Yes, darling.” She glanced over her shoulder. The horizon beckoned; clear as far as the eye could see.
“Come, mama; let’s run!”
“Yes, let’s,” she said breaking into a run, away from what might have been or never was; Johnny, towards what could be.
Never again will I feel the warmth of the sun. Or know the feeling of air in my lungs. I'll only know the feeling of water on my skin and salt on tongue. The panick of drowning and the pain it brings with it. Never again will I see you again. The green banks of the island and your blue skies. The small houses tucked away and the trees that laugh in the wind.
I'll only know the dark murmurs of the water, the tugging of the current, and the pressure on my chest. Never again will I be alive.
I had waited. I had tried to wait for you as the hours ticked by. I waited at our table since you had promised to come and talk. We hadn't seen in each in two months, you were always busy.
An hour passed. I waited.
Two hours. I waited.
I waited for you. My cup was emtpy and yours was cold. I had waited for five hours for you but you never came. When I finally decided to leave, I saw you walking the screets. Some harlet was attached to your arm and your back was to me.
I had waited for you, but you didn't come.
If The Sorting Hat Misspoke
Hiding beneath the Sorting Hat´s shadow, Harry couldn´t have been more dumbfounded. I´m a what?
Professor McGonagall lifted the hat from Harry´s head and held out her wrinkly hand in the direction of the Slytherin tables. Sensing the fear in his eyes, she held onto his shoulder to walk him over to a grinning Draco Malfoy.
¨Better not get in my way, Potter.¨ Draco crossed his arms as Harry stood by his side, nearly shoulder to shoulder.
Harry looked about the Great Hall for any sign that this could all just be a dream, although it was more like a nightmare. When his eyes wandered through the professors, his eyes caught onto Snape, whose brows were heavily furrowed and whose dark eyes that were somewhat gloomily staring at him with a feeling that he couldn´t quite describe.
And then there was Dumbledore, who looked on at Harry in horror, possibly realizing that there was more of Voldemort in him than he had first suspected. Much more.