Bottom of the Trunk

Bottom of the Trunk

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Bottom of the Trunk

Post by Reid Dixon on Wed Jan 08, 2014 4:21 pm

Music:



9th April 2023

Dear Barbara,

Springís here again. The tulips have started growing. Purple and orange and yellow. It looks like a river, down in the fields behind the school. Rivers of colours.

I donít know why Iím writing this to you. Itís pretty much pointless. It isnít like you can answer.

But I like keeping myself above the stupidities that normal people indulge in. Which includes lying to yourself. I know why Iím writing is because of Rikaís words- her first words to living people in six months. She said that in order to become stronger, you need some moments where you can allow yourself to be weak. Typical Rika. Spouting off philosophy that she dreams up somewhere inside that thick head, which actually makes sense.

Its been a year.


So Iíve picked this day. One among three hundred and sixty five. To be weak.

Today was my first day of classes, in Durmstrang. It starts in spring, instead of autumn like the English magical school, because winters are much colder here. It was.....different. A week back, the school authorities had tested the level of my magical power, since I missed a year, and am twelve unlike the other first years. They considered it acceptable, and allowed me to directly sit in second-year classes. Its stupid. How am I supposed to understand most of the theory if Iíve missed the introductory year? But I didnít complain.

The boys here, who far outnumber the number of girls, are strange. I suppose it would have been better if I had attended first year with them. That was not possible. They have already formed their groups, their little cliques, the people who they eat with, the people who they practice spells with. I ate alone today. Did my homework alone too, while wondering if I had been this bad at making friends back at Warwickís.

Thing was, I already had had my little clique the moment I stepped into primary school. The three of us were inseparable back then, werenít we? And whatever additional friends I had to make, you made them for me.

It was that way. Rika used to write all the English essays and weíd copy from her. I used to do the math and science. And you made sure we always passed in gym, and never ate alone at lunch. Whatever weaknesses one had, the others compensated. It was never like we were three different people.

The nights here are really cold. Iíve been living in the dorms for about a week, since I came a bit early. I used to shut all the windows and draw the blinds before the other boys came, but now they open all the windows the moment they rush in from classes, tossing their cloaks and rolls of parchment any place they can find, and talk and laugh among themselves till late night. I donít think Iím more susceptible to cold than they are. I just guess theyíre all warmed up bundled up in one of the great beds. They do that, always. Come in from dinner, pick a bed and make themselves comfortable on it, secure in their little circle. I donít mind, too much, even though they do look like theyíre having fun. Its better than the nights where all of them sneak out with their brooms, to snatch a few hours of forbidden flight. The dorms are even colder then, and really empty. I sneeze once, and it echoes around for ages.

Its late night now, and Iím wrapped up in one of those thin little blankets they give, writing under the moon light. The moonís really pretty here. It should seem the same, because different countries still share the same sky. But the moon here seems much brighter, and closer somehow- as compared to the English moon. (How Rika would mock at that sentence. Hit me on the head too, the violent girl- and proclaim I was racist enough to give the moon nationalities). I can see more stars here too. Leo literally hangs on my window sill. I wish I could take out my telescope now, but my toes are starting to get numbed. And I donít think I could find it.

Iím planning to visit the library tomorrow, to look up a spell to set something on fire. The fireplace in my dorm looks practically ancient, unused for centuries, but I think I can manage something.

Iím sleepy now. Good night.

Happy birthday.

Reid.

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Reid Dixon

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