The Life of a Broken Stone

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There he was, just walking away from me like nothing had happened. Something had happened though, despite what he was doing. Daybreak had just hit and I was on the floor, my left arm bleeding out. I didn’t get what had just happened to me, I didn’t get what he was. All I saw this thing charging towards, scrapping my arm and then it changed. Changed back into something else, it was like the stories well sort of.
Little Red Riding Hood and the big bad wolf the only difference being I didn’t get some wild handsome to save me. No instead I got myself, I had myself to save me. I picked up my little black book and pen seeing the bunch of butterflies fly around me as I clutched my bleeding arm.

I didn’t know what to do, I was panicking. I tried to stay calm, but I knew I was dying. But I had to get back home, so I started to. Making my way through the tree’s and broken pathways. My blood shedding as I walked my very own trail of breadcrumbs. A sadistic trail of breadcrumbs but still my very own way back to my old safe spot.
So what did you do when you lost your secretly blanket? Sure my blanket was a small spot down by a lake in the middle of the woods that no one knew about except me, but I guess part of the word secretly is secret. And that’s what it was a secret my secret. If what just happened to me made me whatever he was, I had a new secret to keep.

When I got back/ home/ though, someone else was there. He was old, with a long silvery beard. He reminded me of my grandfather actually. “Hello,” was all he said.
“Hi,” I said shifting nervously; I was still clutching my arm hoping to stop the bleeding somehow.
“Nasty wound,” I think he was about to say something else or he was, but I didn’t hear it since I fell to the floor.
When I eventually woke up, I thought it was all a dream. Until I saw were I was. A hospital, specifically the bed part. The walls were painted eggshell and I’d found my way into one of those hospital gown thingys. Nothign was out of the ordinary here, except I still saw that man from my house at the foot of my bed. Guess it wasn’t a dream then.
“Who, who are you?” I stuttered out, my voice was weak and my mouth felt dry.
“My name is Albus Dumbledore,” the man said handing me a glass of water, which I didn’t hesitate to take and chug down. “I’m the head master of a school called Hogwarts it’s for special people like yourself.”
Special? “What do you mean by special?” I asked him.
“Magical,” he began. “It’s a school for witches and wizards like yourself.”
“A witch, what like from The Wizard of Oz?”
“No,” he said with a small laugh. “You won’t turn green or have a long nose with a wart. You’ll look the same, just have magically abilities.”
“Just to be clear, this is actually happening, I’m not dreaming or anything?”
“No,” he laughed again. “But there is another thing.”
“Another thing,” I said sitting up, hearing the monitors beep.
“That cut on your arm,” he pointed at my left arm. “Came from a werewolf.”
“Oh, so does that mean, I’m a werewolf?” I was afraid of the answer though I already knew it.
“Yes, but each month we have a place for you to go so you won’t hurt anybody,” he said as if to reassure me. It didn’t though, I had become a monster in a way. My favourite childrens book kept coming into my brain though. Little Red Riding Hood, it’s what my grandmother called me. I thought of how she was eaten by the wolf, I felt like I was in a similar situation except instead of being eaten. I had become the monster.
“When you’re healthy and up to strength again I’ll come back and take you to Diagon Alley it’s a shop for our kind you’ll get all you need for school there,” he patted me leg before standing up and heading to the door.
“Wait,” I called to him. “Why me? Why am I witch, why did I get chosen or whatever?”
He paused to think about it, “no one is sure how it happens, most get it from relitives but you being a muggle born. Muggle’s are non magic folk,” he said obviously seeing the confusion on my face. “No one is sure how or why it happens it just does.”
“Then what makes you so sure I’ll go to your school?”
“Because I can see it in your eyes, you’re curious. You like the idea magic, being something better than this. You want to get out of here,” and on that not he left. In some ways he was right, I did want out of this town. I wanted to be somewhere that had life.

A few weeks had gone by and Dumbledore made good on his promise he was back. He’d taken me to Diawhatever Alley. I’d gotten robes, books, potion supplies, more books, he even helped me buy this cute little black cat but what I was most excited about was my wand. A 12 and a half inch alder wood with a dragon heartstring, it was surprisingly swishy and this nice reddish brown colour. In two weeks I would board a train that would take me to a new life.

I should mention my name is Lorraine Stone, my grandmother had taken care of me since I could remember. She died last year, leaving me in an orphanage. I had dark red hair, which yes was natural despite what people believed. Green eyes but with a brown rim, I was eleven years old and a witch. I had a scar on my left arm, most likely the first of many since I was a werewolf. And this is the start how my life.

Yes I’m writing another one; yes I do have a problem. But honestly you’d be surprised what pop’s into my head when I feel faint. So the usual rate, comment, tell me of the most likely many spelling and grammar mistakes. Cheers