Post by Ostara Rose Hatherton on Apr 5, 2010 7:59:34 GMT -5
What's the matter graverobber?
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Charcoal robes were thrown across an old box in the attic of Hogwarts, shielding the teenage girl sat behind a row of old desks and chairs, most rather brittle from age. A book sat on the floor of the attic, Ostara’s journal, filled with everything from her suspicions to letters and photos from home. It had been a few weeks since Star had heard from her father, a silence she was unused to. Asoda too had faced no reply when it came to her letters to their mother, although Mika had written several times telling them things were fine. Sometimes Ostara wondered just how gullible Mika believed the twins really were. Tired of writing letters that were probably not even read, Ostara had begun writing stories, fiction and non-fiction, fairytales and truth, all coiling together the past and what she hoped for the future.
Have you ever been scared? Of course you have, everyone gets scared. Bad dreams, sleepless nights, childhood phobias. No, I didn’t mean scared. I meant terrified. Forget exams, forget boys, forget girls, forget friends. Forget everything but the thing that terrifies you the most. It’s hard isn’t it? I always used to think my biggest fear was dying young, I didn’t want to be another statistic. To be honest, dying young seems a blessing right about now. My biggest fear is something so much more than that, and it all started with one hell of a mistake. Do me a favour, if you gain nothing else from this tale, just remember to -under no circumstances- ever accept a drink with the man (or woman) you despise the most.
Re-reading the last few words, Ostara frowned and scratched through the final sentence with her quill, knocking the ink over as she did. Watching as the liquid poured across the floor and soaked through several of the pages in her journal, Ostara fumbled with her wand in irritation, groaning as it rolled to the other end of the attic. Okay, today was not her day.
Ever been to my homeland, Egypt?[/color]
I could lock you in a tomb and no one would know...
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Notes:
Word count: 337
Outfit: Clickity click
Ostara's mood: Frustrated and lonely
