Monday, October 20, 2008
A Young Death Eater's Ruminations on a Snitch
Small, round, golden, with wings faster than a hummingbird’s. Arabesques and whimsical swirls adorned its surface. It fit on his palm, cool from speeding through the air, warm from him clutching it close and studying it as he did now. He wondered what it would be like, to be as free as this little toy, to fly and fly and never be caught but by the best. He wondered what it would be like, to be free of the Mark burned into his left arm. He wondered what it would be like, if, just once, he’d caught the snitch first.
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1 comment:
I like you choice of descriptive words, they invoke the feeling and the place. It is like I am under the invisibility cloak and watching him, able to hear his thoughts. Very well done, though I did have trouble telling who it was. But then again I have not read HP in a while.
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