Hogwarts School - Summer

Character Resources => Summer Workshops => Past Workshop Prompts => Topic started by: Conner Mason on 12/23/2019 at 08:06

Title: Prompt 2: An Introspective Review
Post by: Conner Mason on 12/23/2019 at 08:06
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times... At least, that was how Conner felt when he recieved an acceptance letter to Hogwarts - some magical school he hadn't ever heard of.

"I can't be a wizard," he had protested loudly, waving the offending scrap of paper in his mother's face. "There's just no way!"

With a small smile, she had just nodded. "Whatever you want to believe, dear. Just think about it; I'm sure you'll find that there were some peculiar instances."

Taking her advice to heart, Conner plopped down at the kitchen table and remembered.



Early 1952

The cookie jar sat just out of reach, perched solidly on the
marble countertop. Conner strained his entire body to get to it, his pudgy arms extended to their limit. Only one more inch - that was all he needed!

As he stretched and stretched, the tip of his little finger grazed the smooth, porcelain surface of the jar. That innocent touch was all it took.

With a loud bang, the container shattered, sending tiny shards of glass and cookie in every direction. The mess coated the walls, countertops, floor, and, of course, Conner himself. Glittering porcelain chunks trailing from his small form, he dashed from the room. "Momma!" he called. "Help, Momma!"



Christmas Day, 1955

Conner lay on the floor, mountains of crumpled wrapping paper surrounding him. A slight pout tugged at his lips. It wasn't that he hadn't been given enough gifts (no, there had been plenty of those). But the one thing he wanted more than anything else in the whole wide world - his very own portable radio transmitter - was nowhere to be found.

A myriad of emotions bubbled up in his chest, none of them pleasant. "I wanted a radio," he muttered, fists clenching at his sides. "I WANTED A RADIO."

It was then that everything went wrong. The paper all around him rippled with some unseen force of energy, matching the seething rage of the young boy. His anger grew, joined by some unhealthy indignation. The extra energy poured into the air, only to be absorbed by the discarded paper. Unable to handle the almost electric flow, it shredded itself into a gazillion sharp,  jagged, little bits.

Now completely littered with papercut potential, the sitting room floor took on a whole new level of intimidation. Conner gulped, his unhappiness forgotten. However was he going to clean this up?