School – Of Glass & Paper

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.

It’s all that we have learnt, and forgotten. It’s all that we remember, suddenly, as we walk through the woods, and see the castle, across the lake, which reminds us of beauty and the beast, of treasure island, of snow-white and her friends the dwarves… It’s all that may reappear, in our dreams, in the soft ripples of desires and memories. It may even be about a lost ring?

We follow the lane, our steps made silent by the thick cover of dead leaves. We cannot be sure who lived here, did they write symphonies, or wrote novels? Or did they study the dark heart of time? Were they wizards, or evil magicians? Did they come from the underworld, or from an island, far away, across an immense ocean? Are they still alive?

Behind those trees, we see the old school, the coal fire burning, the ancient wooden floor. It is what will remain when we are ready to embark, on our last voyage…

The School

Young Samurai The long corridors were dark and threatening, and he was so small: the tall windows did not let any light in, the ancient floors creaked menacingly.

He clinched his fists, thought of his mother, of the sweetness of being close to her, and, now, of the pain of being so far away – for how long?

In the courtyard he was at first frightened by the other boys, so noisy, looking so much older than him, then he realised they were looking at him, respectfully.

He was one of the smaller boys, but also so fast, and then, his fists: he had to fight once, and then there was peace, although he was punished, for four Sundays, sweeping the floors, doing the chores, but left alone.

He was not lost there, he’d fight his way, the way of the Samurai. Alone.

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