In one sentence is the spark of a story. Ignite.
Mission: Write a story, a description, a poem, a metaphor, a commentary, or a memory about this sentence. Write something about this sentence.
Be sure to tag writeworld in your block!
“Your spelling is crap,” she swore at Henry.
He rolled his eyes. “As if it matters; it’s magic.”
“Of course it matters. You cannot read a spell if it is written incorrectly!”
“Evelyn, I get so tired of your shit.”
“And I of yours, Henry. You need to know the difference between your shit and you’re shit.”
He didn’t understand. “What?”
“Weather and whether or wether. Do you want a storm, a problem or a ram with its balls cut off?”
“Are you speaking English?”
She just rolled her eyes. “Give me that damn spell.”
She lunged across the table to try and grab it, but he yanked it out of her grasp. And then when she went to chase him around the huge wooden table in the study room, he ran ahead of her.
He started to recite the badly spelt spell as he did it.
“No!” she shouted at him.
He kept going, laughing as he went.
She gave up chasing him as he triumphantly finished with the final invocation.
There was a pregnant silence and then a purple cloud coalesced with a whump noise.
For a second she was terrified that he had made weather, but then a confused looking ram appeared; right in the centre of the table. It bleated and they both looked at each other.
“Whoa. You were right.”
“I often am, you know.”
Maybe it was annoyed about having its balls removed but the ram saw Henry, lowered it’s head and charged at him. “EEEK! Make it stop.”
Evelyn leapt up onto the table when the ram leapt off it and watched Henry do some more running around the room.
She laughed so hard her sides hurt.
They still ached when they both got hauled onto the carpet in front of the school principal.