Bittersweetness
Posted: December 20th, 2023, 11:31:56 pm
This is my entry for Kestrad's raffle. This story has been fueled by my feelings of nostalgia and melancholy of these past few days. I am in the progress of writing more, and this chapter is really starting to look more like a prologue in comparison by now. Past tense might work better for this story, but turns out converting to it was more difficult for me than I thought, so it shall stay like it currently is. Hope you enjoy!
(Apologies for any spelling mistakes, improper grammar and such; English is not my first language and I have difficulty reading and writing in general. I reread my writings several times beforehand, though there is alwas a chance something slips through; I hope it won’t be too distracting if so. Critique and comments are welcome, I’m not really that experienced of a writer so advice how to improve would be helpful!)
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The fate of many things that I wanted to keep hold of, but didn’t explicitly need, were to end up stashed in my increasingly disorganized bookshelf and to be swiftly forgotten about. In the middle of my attempt to bring some form of order to it, I pull out a mysterious journal from underneath all the others that had a dozen notes sticking out of it, when from among them a stray piece of paper floats to the floor. I kneel to pick it up, feeling a twinge of pain in my knee. I look at the note and squint, then pull out a chair to sit on as I try to decipher what the haphazard doodle was supposed to represent. Is it a rabbit? Or a cat? Perhaps it could be a duck after all? I tried to remember when I scribbled this, but my mind drew a blank.
Opening the notebook from which it fell from, I find countless sketches and notes that I made back when I was still at the beginning of my journey to become a magi. Charts of species crossbreeding, marked down birthdays, name ideas with a dozen crossed out- all of them sounding familiar. On the edges of the pages I had doodled various critters, and I could tell what my mood had been at the time depending on the style of the drawings: for pleasant matters, there were pictures of jackalopes surrounded by flowers and mischievous winged cats adorning the edges, and if the subject had been more troublesome, my feelings of frustration were clear with all of the snarling direwolves ready to take a bite out of you and the furious dragons breathing fire all over the paper. Seeing the drawings brings forth old memories and resurfaces feelings of joy from long past, how simple things were back then.
I don’t know how much time had passed as I sat there, having become stuck on the chair reminiscing. I thought I had thrown out all of these remains ages ago, but looks like this one book managed to survive. Picking up the stray doodle again and placing it back where I thought it fell from, I close the book and glance toward my dresser, remembering something else that had remained. Rummaging through the drawer, I come upon it, just where I left it all those years ago: hidden underneath all of the clutter was a key, covered in flecks of rust all over. This is where I had put it to keep it safe, so I could return some day if I so desired. Today was going to be that day.
Closing the little cottage’s door behind me, walking stick in tow, I set on my journey. It doesn’t all that long for me to be able to see the towers of the castle already peek from behind the hills.
(Apologies for any spelling mistakes, improper grammar and such; English is not my first language and I have difficulty reading and writing in general. I reread my writings several times beforehand, though there is alwas a chance something slips through; I hope it won’t be too distracting if so. Critique and comments are welcome, I’m not really that experienced of a writer so advice how to improve would be helpful!)
---
The fate of many things that I wanted to keep hold of, but didn’t explicitly need, were to end up stashed in my increasingly disorganized bookshelf and to be swiftly forgotten about. In the middle of my attempt to bring some form of order to it, I pull out a mysterious journal from underneath all the others that had a dozen notes sticking out of it, when from among them a stray piece of paper floats to the floor. I kneel to pick it up, feeling a twinge of pain in my knee. I look at the note and squint, then pull out a chair to sit on as I try to decipher what the haphazard doodle was supposed to represent. Is it a rabbit? Or a cat? Perhaps it could be a duck after all? I tried to remember when I scribbled this, but my mind drew a blank.
Opening the notebook from which it fell from, I find countless sketches and notes that I made back when I was still at the beginning of my journey to become a magi. Charts of species crossbreeding, marked down birthdays, name ideas with a dozen crossed out- all of them sounding familiar. On the edges of the pages I had doodled various critters, and I could tell what my mood had been at the time depending on the style of the drawings: for pleasant matters, there were pictures of jackalopes surrounded by flowers and mischievous winged cats adorning the edges, and if the subject had been more troublesome, my feelings of frustration were clear with all of the snarling direwolves ready to take a bite out of you and the furious dragons breathing fire all over the paper. Seeing the drawings brings forth old memories and resurfaces feelings of joy from long past, how simple things were back then.
I don’t know how much time had passed as I sat there, having become stuck on the chair reminiscing. I thought I had thrown out all of these remains ages ago, but looks like this one book managed to survive. Picking up the stray doodle again and placing it back where I thought it fell from, I close the book and glance toward my dresser, remembering something else that had remained. Rummaging through the drawer, I come upon it, just where I left it all those years ago: hidden underneath all of the clutter was a key, covered in flecks of rust all over. This is where I had put it to keep it safe, so I could return some day if I so desired. Today was going to be that day.
Closing the little cottage’s door behind me, walking stick in tow, I set on my journey. It doesn’t all that long for me to be able to see the towers of the castle already peek from behind the hills.