“I’m not sure, it’s risky.”
“Trust me. J.P.’s alright.”
Max suspiciously looks at J.P. waiting twenty meters away.
“Ok. But if it goes wrong, you’re the one paying.”
Tom signals J.P. to come over.
“J.P. you’re on watch, Tom, diversion. Me, I collect”
Tom and J.P. nod.
“First target in sight. Ready? Go!”
Tom walks towards the target and bump into him, making his bag fall on the ground. Max picks it up and flee running.
Away from prying eyes, Max, Tom and J.P. celebrate their victory.
“Halloween is my favorite day” says Tom, his mouth full of candies.
The poet’s answer
What is my dream career? What do I want to do with my life?
Everyone familiar with Pierre Bottero’s work knows that every questions has two answers: the scholar’s and the poet’s.
I’ll pass on the scholar’s this time. I find it a bit too grown up and boring.
But I’ll give you the poet’s answer. It goes like this:
I will be an astronaut,
A chef, a fireman, a doctor,
A dancer, a teacher, a scientist,
But also a magician, an alchemist and a knight.
I’ll travel on land, in the air and on water.
I’ll swim in the clouds, and fly with the fishes.
And when I’ve seen the entire world,
I’ll visit the others.
Most of all, I’ll make new friends.
Women, men, young and old.
Elves, fairies, giants, gnomes and dragons.
Let’s not forget vampires, werewolves and witches.
And when I’ve done and seen everything imaginable,
I’ll tackle the rest :)
His long greasy hair was partly covered by the dark gray hood of his sweatshirt. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t raining. The hood was more a way to hide, than a mean to protect from a bad weather. As if trying to be invisible, in unattractive and two sizes too large clothes, he was observing from a distance. The strand of black hair falling over his deep blue eyes didn’t seem to bother him. Whatever he was looking for, he would not miss it. He was watching everything around, listening to every noise, not missing even the simple buzz of a fly passing by. However, his focus seem to always come back on the other side of the street. More precisely on the brown door of an apartment building. His right foot was slightly pacing without him noticing it. Firmly holding a piece of paper in his hand, he was so tense that his nails left marks on his palm. The door finally opened. His body tensed up even more than it already was. He took a deep breath, then took a first step toward the man.