We visited a small lake one afternoon after our daily castle visits. We had taken a steam engine. It was red, old, but it was fast, and it got us to our lake. A small lake. Most Americans would have refered to it as a big puddle, maybe a pond, but it was bigger than a pond. It was a small lake. I would not have been surprised if the Lady of the Lake had arisen from the middle, grasping Excalibur and looking for Merlin. It was very blue, but no Lady emerged. My parents began to wander on down the trail. I took a picture of them together. They looked like they had come out of a storybook. But it was only a picture.

I let them together and I continued off the trail, into some lightly wooded areas. The trees were showing hints of fall, a tint of gold plaguing their green liveliness, the call of death telling them that autumn was on its way. I sat down against a tree.

It was warm. Not hot, but warm, and I was comfortable. I thought I heard a noise behind me and I crawled around to look at the other side of the tree, and there was a little boy starring at me, his eyes wide and looking ashamed, like little boys do when they've been found in their hide-and-seek games. He had raven black hair and hazel eyes behind his round glasses.

Hello, I said.

He didn't say anything, but hugged himself closer to the tree.

What are you doing? I said. Did you lose your parents?

He shook his head.

I sat up straight and smiled comfortingly at him.

What's your name?

He paused for a moment and said in his small welsh accent, Harry Potter.

I laughed at this little boy and he hugged himself closer to the tree.

Well, Harry Potter. Have you run away from Hogwarts?

And he nodded, his smile only just visible as he pushed his nose up against the tree. When he looked at me again, he had dirt on his nose.

I have to go, he said in his tiny voice.

OK, I said, smiling. It was nice to meet you, Harry Potter.

He smiled and started running back up the hill where his parents must have been looking for him. As he was running, though, he tripped. I gave a short laugh, but when he didn't get back up, I walked over to him to see if he was OK. He didn't move, nor cry, and when I picked him up to put him back on his feet, I saw a red hole in his body, in his chest, and he was bleeding from it.

And then I woke up.


WTF is this? I don't even know. It was originally a homework assignment, but I thought some strange strange peopl may enjoy reading it on so I posted it, though I'm not too sure what it is...

I don't know who the little boy is, maybe it is Harry Potter... but then why does he die? Can anyone explain this to me? I think I need to lie down.