Post by hundredwords on Mar 18, 2006 12:14:45 GMT -5
A girl at the peak of 15 watched the sky intently with her stone gray eyes. Her mouth was small and fashioned with a gem-cutter’s precision. The girl’s nose was button like and splattered with freckles. Her black, ear length hair played on the gentle breeze witch rocked the high branch she was sitting on. Her name? Fallon Igor. A plain white t-shirt and short dark blue jeans covered her modestly. On her feet were worn down Nikes with the soul’s pealing. Fallon was a lanky girl with a musician’s long fingers.
The boarding school bell rang, beckoning all students to come in for supper. Fallon half climbed, half fell out of the tree in her haste to get home before the doors closed. People of many ages streamed through the doors, like a river or people. Fallon was last in line, and as soon as she got to the door, it closed.
Sighing Fallon walked away to a tree near the school. Climbing it, she crawled through the library window. Looking around, she closed the window with a snap and closed the curtains. She was thrown into complete darkness. Stumbling into chair and tables Fallon’s finger’s finally rested on the doorknob. She pulled only to find it stuck. Groaning Fallon put her hands n the wall, searching for the light switch. “Aha!”
The room was cast into a shower of golden beams from the countless chandeliers on the painted ceiling.
She leaned against the wall, something moved! The wall had slid back to revile a dimly light, tiny, circular room. Fallon walked through the opening in the wall and up to the only piece of furnishing in the room. A Celtic engraved circular table sat in the precise middle of the room. On the dark, dusty wood sat a treasure box about the size of a small jewelry box.
Fallon touched the table lightly, then caressed the engravings on the box, witch opened with a click. Fallon looked inside the shallow box and found a brooch. The brooch was a moonstone teardrop that glittered many colors. It was flanked on either side by short, enamel, and feathered wings. Fallon gasped at the pretty sight and gently touched it. At her touch it floated and pined itself onto the exact center of her chest. The wings became big enough to touch each of Fallon’s shoulders. The enamel became real feathers and the moonstone teardrop seemed to glow faintly. Fallon’s shoulder’s started to itch; she reached back to scratch it. “What?”
She winced as she pulled at something fuzzy. Pulling her hand back Fallon gasped, she held a handful of feathers. “Oh wow.”
Fallon looked back and saw magpie wings, speckled with tan, black, and white feathers. She laughed and tried finding the muscles to flap her new wings.
Later that morning Fallon finally got out of the library by flying up to her window on the fifth floor.
She had just reached for her pajamas when her alarm clock went off. Groaning Fallon turned it off and headed for the shower. She stripped her shirt off and gasped.
The boarding school bell rang, beckoning all students to come in for supper. Fallon half climbed, half fell out of the tree in her haste to get home before the doors closed. People of many ages streamed through the doors, like a river or people. Fallon was last in line, and as soon as she got to the door, it closed.
Sighing Fallon walked away to a tree near the school. Climbing it, she crawled through the library window. Looking around, she closed the window with a snap and closed the curtains. She was thrown into complete darkness. Stumbling into chair and tables Fallon’s finger’s finally rested on the doorknob. She pulled only to find it stuck. Groaning Fallon put her hands n the wall, searching for the light switch. “Aha!”
The room was cast into a shower of golden beams from the countless chandeliers on the painted ceiling.
She leaned against the wall, something moved! The wall had slid back to revile a dimly light, tiny, circular room. Fallon walked through the opening in the wall and up to the only piece of furnishing in the room. A Celtic engraved circular table sat in the precise middle of the room. On the dark, dusty wood sat a treasure box about the size of a small jewelry box.
Fallon touched the table lightly, then caressed the engravings on the box, witch opened with a click. Fallon looked inside the shallow box and found a brooch. The brooch was a moonstone teardrop that glittered many colors. It was flanked on either side by short, enamel, and feathered wings. Fallon gasped at the pretty sight and gently touched it. At her touch it floated and pined itself onto the exact center of her chest. The wings became big enough to touch each of Fallon’s shoulders. The enamel became real feathers and the moonstone teardrop seemed to glow faintly. Fallon’s shoulder’s started to itch; she reached back to scratch it. “What?”
She winced as she pulled at something fuzzy. Pulling her hand back Fallon gasped, she held a handful of feathers. “Oh wow.”
Fallon looked back and saw magpie wings, speckled with tan, black, and white feathers. She laughed and tried finding the muscles to flap her new wings.
Later that morning Fallon finally got out of the library by flying up to her window on the fifth floor.
She had just reached for her pajamas when her alarm clock went off. Groaning Fallon turned it off and headed for the shower. She stripped her shirt off and gasped.