Of Books and Butterflies
Disclaimer: Familiar? Don't own it. Written for HPFC One Character Competition. Uses prompts book, butterfly, yellow, pillow, explore, pretend, try, counting, pretty, glitter, simple and lie. It's 221 words long.
The weather was beautiful, the sun was shining, and the turquoise sky beckoned children to play beneath it. All of the neighborhood children were.
Except for eight-year-old Hermione.
Hermione had always been different than other kids her age. While some would prefer explore the woods behind the neighborhood or to chase butterflies outside, Hermione preferred to curl up on the giant yellow pillow in her parents' sitting room and read a good book. When reading, she could pretend to be whoever she wanted from the comfort and safety of her own home. It suited her.
Hermione's mother walked into the room to see her daughter curled up with yet another book. At first, she'd tried to keep track of her daughter's list of books she'd read but after a year she'd given up counting.
"Hermione, dear?" Mrs. Granger said.
The girl looked up with her big brown eyes. "Yes, Mummy?"
"Have you gone outside today?" her mother asked.
"Yes, Mummy." The girl lied.
Mrs. Granger sighed and left the room. It was no use persuading her daughter to do anything girlish. She wasn't into glittery jewels, pretty butterflies, or anything of the sort. No, Hermione preferred simple things. But simple was the opposite of what Hermione was.
After all, the girl's simple appearance and tastes disguised her complex and vivid imagination.
