INTRODUCTION About Me Hiii everyone, I'm Etheray! I'm a teenage girl who loves writing more than anything in the entire ...
Wednesday, 21 June 2017
MICRO STORY #4: Long Lost
I hope none of you were hoping for some pirate treasure hunt, journey into the caves, or something! :PPP As stated before in my previous post, in writing, my favourite things to do are: one, digging out "Hey, I've never thought of it that way before" things and writing about it in a unique way; two, think of things people would consider normal, and writing the exact opposite; and three, observing nature carefully, taking a simple element and tweaking its meaning wildly and recklessly. I am using my third 'favourite thing' in this story, simply by picking one of those typical titles of mystery or adventure novels--- Long Lost, and I'm hoping to give everyone a surprise by writing something slightly different from what you would expect. Although I would say my fourth creation isn't different enough this time. I'll learn to write better, I promise :P P.S, I hope the first two sentences will make you laugh :P #4: Long Lost
Once upon a time, in
the mysterious valleys far, far away, a centuries-old, long lost item was
I twirled the piece of
precious treasure in my hands. It had multi-coloured, iridescent feathers.
Fairy dust glinted on its tips.
My standard six
classmates from primary school had planned something really amazing this hols.
We were to wear------or rather, find a way to squeeze into------our primary
school uniform, and come back to school for primary school lessons. We arranged
for our former retired primary school teachers to come back and teach us
primary school stuff. Our standard six class monitor in the year two thousand
two miraculously fished out his standard six lessons timetable, and invited our
subject teachers that taught us on Thursdays, eleven years ago, back to
The clique of three
girls that used to be the oil to the fire of my fear, anger and
humiliation, laughing exaggeratedly in a corner. Our teacher, chatting with a
few of my former classmates, her hair markedly grayed but her smile
significantly brightened with her well-earned rest of retirement. My very first
crush, twisting his green highlighter between his fingers, a habit and a choice
of colour never changed. It's funny how time can make us nostalgic for once
repulsive enemies and embarrassing crushes.
I grinned to myself
for the millionth time, still ecstatic about the fact that I'd actually
retrieved mom's long lost Precious Thing from behind the smelly classroom
cupboard. As my crazy excitedness wore off, I realized the rainbow-coloured
feathers had dulled, as it should have. I sneezed loudly. Scattered in the air
was real dust, not fairy dust, as it should be.
"Hey! Our magic
wand!" shouted Robert. He snatched the feather duster from my loose grip.
shouted, performing one of Harry Potter's unlocking charms. A group of boys and
girls looked over, some smirking, some giggling. Dancing in their eyes was the
same insane thrill I was feeling. "Open sesame! ......Open sesame, I say.
Cupboard, I demand you to open up now." He prodded the
cupboard with the poor feather duster. "Our wand isn't working. Duh."
He chuckled, handing the thing back to me. "It's been a long time since we
played like that," he remarked.
True," I smiled.
It was no surprise that they remembered our once daily plaything.
I drove to mom and
dad's apartment like an alcoholic drunk. I feverishly poured out the day's
excitement to my mom. But not before I eagerly brandished her long lost
Precious Thing before her.
Yes, dear. It's so
nice of you to come and visit---OH!" Mom stared at the clump
of dirty feathers in front of her face. "My duster!" She laughed.
"I can still recognize it after all those years. Let me keep it if you
think it's too yucky. Mom has clever hands; she can clean it up and it'll be
ready for dusting again in no time."
I laughed, too. I told
her I wouldn't mind keeping it. I'd just settled in my new home; gotta do some
cleaning up too.
Take good care of it,
dearie," she joked. "Wouldn't want it falling behind cupboards for
another fifteen years of hibernation."
Back home, I brushed
the feathers across the book rack just beside Leith's baby cot.
On the weathered
feather duster that reminisced of so many things, fairy dust glistened......