#BlogBattle Week 11 by Chloe H (12yo)
Willow frantically fluttered from oak to oak. I, Star (her BFF), a wolf cloaked in soft ebony fur, continued to gaze at the fairy’s nervous movements. For as long as I had dwelled in the realm of Magia, I had never fully understood the residents’ complex traditions. The fairies’ performance for the Spring Festival would resume in about fifteen minutes. For winter to pass, the fairies would execute a spiritual routine while chanting to the Magian goddess of life in the ancient Magian tongue. Their pleading chants were thought to awaken the goddess as well as ask her to grant the fairies sufficient magic to melt the winter into the refreshing season of spring.
Mainly because the “goddess of life” had never granted the fairies any magic to confirm this strange tradition, I had never believed in the Magian gods. And about that stupid spiritual routine — It’s soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo boring!!!!!!! In my realm we simply just waited for spring to arrive. Nature didn’t require a “spiritual boogie.”
As the fifteen minutes slowly melted away (like winter wasn’t going to do), Willow’s face almost turned green. For a fairy who’d taken five years of spiritual dance and magic training, she had no apparent reason to appear nervous.
“Wha-wha what was the third step again?” Willow stated with trepidation.
“Willow, It’s not like I’m going to know the entire routine just from watching you practice it at least five times a day,” I said with a sarcastic smile.
Willow crossed her arms and gave me a serious glare. Apparently she didn’t get the joke.
“Fine,” I sighed. “It was the u-turn, right?”
“What’s a u-turn?”
I held in a giggle but then understood that Willow’s knowledge of spiritual dance had been lost in her overpowering anxiety.
“A loop,” I said nonchalantly.
“Oh, right,” Willow stifled a laugh as well, realizing the stupidity of her question.
“Do you think I should just tell Mrs. Birch that I suddenly got a rare case of the measles?” The look on Willow’s face looked hopeful, as if she expected me to answer the question according to her pleasure.
“I don’t think your dance teacher would be very pleased with that news,” I tilted my head toward the sky, revealing the sun at a forty-five degree angle.
1:30 — showtime.
Besides the fact that the spiritual tradition had failed (again), it was exactly like last year, and one of the fairies (who shall remain nameless) appeared as sickly green as a toad, the routine wasn’t that bad (there’s that pesky sarcasm again). Since I expected the rest of the festival to be as non-sensible as Willow’s dance routine, this ebony-furred wolf remained absent for the rest of those silly spiritual traditions.
Copyright 2015 Chloe H. All Rights Reserved