Loser, Whatever!
Last Day
On the last night of the term, there was the end-of-the-year feast. I never liked feasts, so I never attended. The only one I had ever been to was the Sorting Ceremony in my first year. It was kind of mandatory that I was there.
I liked Quidditch with a passion. I couldn't play, but I loved to watch. My favorite team had to be Puddlemere United. I didn't know why, I just liked them. Their Keeper was a Hogwarts graduate, Oliver Wood. I remembered when he was here, he played for Gryffindor. I'm super excited for my early birthday present, a vacation to the Puddlemere area, which would include a game!
Tonight, there was a game on the Wizarding Wireless. Puddlemere against the Wasps. I got so absorbed into the game, I didn't even notice when the three girls I shared the dorm with came back from supper and pulled their pyjamas on. They knew I liked to listen, but I could tell they found Quidditch extremely boring. They were polite enough to keep it to themselves as they crowded onto Alyssa's, the prettiest blonde out of the three, bed to read magazines, take quizzes and paint each others nails.
The game ended with a final score of 160-70 for the Wasps. I couldn't help but admire Oliver for only letting the quaffle in once. But the Wasps Seeker was the second best in the league, only Viktor Krum was better.
The girls went back to their own beds and you all slowly drifted off to sleep.
Twelve hours later I was on the Hogwarts Express, three hours from King's Cross. I was sitting in a compartment all by myself, This wasn't out of the ordinary. I had my notebook out and was writing away. My iPod was once again in my ears and I was listening to 'Your Guardian Angel' again. The song had inspired me to write. Something that I had not felt the impulse to do in almost five years.
'Fran sat in the park, all by herself.' I wrote 'This wasn't new. She just liked to be alone. She wore black from head to toe. From the knit toque over her naturally black, curly hair to the Doc Martens on her feet. She wasn't goth or anything, just mourning for the loss of this generation of youth and music. She pondered about nothing in particular as she sat. After a half-hour, she got up and left. Unaware of the figure, also dressed in black, who got up from the other end of the park to follow.'
I guess it was an okay start. It didn't have to mean anything, I just wanted to write.
I arrived at the station a few hours later. On the platform waiting were my parents and little brother Kurt. He was only five. There were hugs all around. Then we piled into the enchanted station wagon and drove home.
I liked Quidditch with a passion. I couldn't play, but I loved to watch. My favorite team had to be Puddlemere United. I didn't know why, I just liked them. Their Keeper was a Hogwarts graduate, Oliver Wood. I remembered when he was here, he played for Gryffindor. I'm super excited for my early birthday present, a vacation to the Puddlemere area, which would include a game!
Tonight, there was a game on the Wizarding Wireless. Puddlemere against the Wasps. I got so absorbed into the game, I didn't even notice when the three girls I shared the dorm with came back from supper and pulled their pyjamas on. They knew I liked to listen, but I could tell they found Quidditch extremely boring. They were polite enough to keep it to themselves as they crowded onto Alyssa's, the prettiest blonde out of the three, bed to read magazines, take quizzes and paint each others nails.
The game ended with a final score of 160-70 for the Wasps. I couldn't help but admire Oliver for only letting the quaffle in once. But the Wasps Seeker was the second best in the league, only Viktor Krum was better.
The girls went back to their own beds and you all slowly drifted off to sleep.
Twelve hours later I was on the Hogwarts Express, three hours from King's Cross. I was sitting in a compartment all by myself, This wasn't out of the ordinary. I had my notebook out and was writing away. My iPod was once again in my ears and I was listening to 'Your Guardian Angel' again. The song had inspired me to write. Something that I had not felt the impulse to do in almost five years.
'Fran sat in the park, all by herself.' I wrote 'This wasn't new. She just liked to be alone. She wore black from head to toe. From the knit toque over her naturally black, curly hair to the Doc Martens on her feet. She wasn't goth or anything, just mourning for the loss of this generation of youth and music. She pondered about nothing in particular as she sat. After a half-hour, she got up and left. Unaware of the figure, also dressed in black, who got up from the other end of the park to follow.'
I guess it was an okay start. It didn't have to mean anything, I just wanted to write.
I arrived at the station a few hours later. On the platform waiting were my parents and little brother Kurt. He was only five. There were hugs all around. Then we piled into the enchanted station wagon and drove home.