Locked

keyshttp://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2013/02/24/__picture-it-write-53/

One day, a girl set out to college. She did her major in Procrastination and a minor in Introspection. She found what she was good at and where she had to struggle. She searched for the reins controlling her life and stumbled across things like “post-modernism” and “existentialism”. There were others in the same hunt, torn by the same questions, doubting every step.

All the while she was handed skills that were supposedly the key to success. She focused on sharpening the ones she found fun, and the ones she thought she might need to survive.

Then one day she pondered the meaning of success. What was it? Why was it so important to get it? What would the key open?

The homework piled up until it was sticking out of her bedroom door and she sat defeated, head in hand, waiting for the rain to wash away her stress. Questions and doubts about everything popped into her head.

A few deadlines and nights of high speed typing later, she still doesn’t have too many answers. But she knows she’s never going to know what the key is until it opens something.

Signed,

Me

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Fireworks

fireworkshttp://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2012/12/30/__picture-it-write-49/

After three hours of trekking, Kassie reached the Stepping Stone. She had not used any of her magic to travel, saving it for an impending moment that might all but deplete her source. Looking at her watch, she saw that it was any minute now. Somewhere, in a cloaked tower, the Synchroniser was looking at her and around four thousand other witches and wizards who had been chosen from those who volunteered. She drew her wand and stepped onto the tiny platform now pulsating with the energy that she would need to channel the spell.

Lifting her arm and spirit skywards, she whispered, “Yadot espylacopa on”. An amber stream of light erupted from her wand. She could sense an opposing force almost immediately and struggled as she fought against it, holding on to the knowledge that there were others who were fighting the same fight. The tide was beginning to turn in their favour, though, and she could barely contain her exhilaration as the stream of light suddenly burst forth unrestrained, sending intermittent sparks of red, green and violet into the evening air.

The unknowing human population went about business as usual, many saying “I never expected anything to happen, anyway”, while the fanatics found other reasons to explain the lack of the apocalypse.

The magical volunteers didn’t need a thank you. They had saved themselves and their close ones as much as the rest of the living souls on the planet, and that was more than enough. Even if all that the others had caught a glimpse of were fireworks.

 

Signed,

The Record Keeper