For Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments)
Myths and Legends #9
This lesson should hopefully be quite fun! I would like you to use the Hieroglyphic Typewriter (website will be listed), and tap in your name. It will show you your name in Hieroglyphs!
Now, I would like you to use those Hieroglyphs as prompts for your story.
B- foot/shoe/feet
U- baby bird/chicken/small
T- loaf/bread
T- loaf/bread
E- plant(s)/grass
R- mouth/lips
Ever since she was a young girl, Hermione loved going to farms. The creatures were so fascinating; cows had four stomachs, and pigs lacked sweat glands. The best memory she probably had though was of when she was eight, and her father brought chickens home.
Hermione immediately loved them. They were so interesting, she just couldn't get enough. Chickens were, after all, the closest living relative to the T-Rex.
This one time, one of the females pooped on her foot. Immediately disgusted, she rushed to wipe it off with a leaf from a plant she found nearby, but found that pointless when the substance suddenly disappeared.
The young girl soon learnt that a chicken's favourite thing to eat was bread. They would not leave it alone. It was as if they had an addiction to the carbohydrate.
The inquisitive adolescence was the first to notice the eggs. "They would be good on a loaf," her father had joked, but a dark glare from his only child shut him up.
For weeks, they watched as the eggs were incubated. Hermione's small hands touched them, inspecting them. Gently, as if not to hurt them.
For a whole week, she wasn't allowed in the coop. At first, she wondered why, until she noticed the chicks had been born and her parents didn't want her to accidentally step on them.
Two weeks later, she sat in her grass, her feet covered in the green curls. Her shoes sat beside her, a baby bird in one. She held another, pressing his head to her lips. Her parents watched, wary, worried of the germs the bird carried would transfer into her mouth and plague her teeth.
One night, a fox crept into the coop and killed all of them. She cried for weeks, and that was where the habit of worrying her bottom lip came from, to try and stop the tears pouring out of her eyes.
They never got any more chickens.
Word Count: 333 words
They're all so short I'm sorry
~Buttercat