Day 4 – 30 Day Writing Challenge [Daisy]

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Imagine that your protagonist has just turned into a statue. Describe his or her thoughts.


Something interesting happened to me today. I know what you’re thinking – something along the lines of ‘everyone always thinks that…’ – but trust me, this one’s juicy. Me and Jake were taking a walk through the park – he started at the academy last week, and I wanted to see his dorm. We were just strolling along, chatting about his lecturers or whatever when suddenly: I can’t move. I don’t even think I noticed at first; there was no flash of light or pain. It wasn’t until Jake wandered away that I realised my legs weren’t working anymore; it was only once I’d tried to call after him that I felt my lips stubbornly refusing to move.

Needless to say, I was confused.

I was also pretty pissed that Jake managed to get at least twenty meters away before he realised I wasn’t with him. I’m definitely remembering that when his birthday rolls around, let me tell you. To his credit, though, when he finally thought to glance in what he thought was my direction, it only took a couple moments of standing there like a lemon for him to spot me. He closed the distance with a very relaxed jog, which didn’t surprise me – he was probably laughing to himself that I was distracted by something shiny. It was only after he’d got close enough for me to make out his face that he realised; if I didn’t know I was the object of all three emotions, it probably would’ve been funny to watch. His bemused smile dropped, and he squinted at me in confusion before suddenly stopping and staring, eyes wide with horror. As things were, not the greatest confidence booster.

He started yelling then – I couldn’t hear him, but he went full meerkat mode; popping up and spinning his head in quick little arcs looking for something. Clearly it was the right move, because a dark-haired boy came sprinting out of the academy gates towards us. He held his hands apologetically at Jake, before gesturing to me. Jake nodded, shoulders tight, and the boy approached. His lips moved. I got none of it. He disappeared from view. I thought he’d bailed at first, but a few seconds later I could feel a tingling in my fingers. It wasn’t just silence anymore, either, “Cara, can you move your hand for me?”

I stuck out my middle finger. Wouldn’t you?



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