Ghost Fire

It was on fire.

Again.

In an instant, the smoke alarm was protesting. Yelling at me from above. Judging, like a tiny, angry, petty god. Screeching before I could fix my mistake. Refusing me a chance to right my wrong.

Waking my mentor.

Disheveled, he burst through the door—his bluish white hair all askew, and his beard half-smushed from sleep—his eyes going wide when he saw the scene before him. When he saw the flames, and smoke, and chagrined look on my face.

“Damnit Beatrice, I told you: no summoning fire-sprits! And definitely not in the house!”

“Yes sir,” I intoned, saddened as he grabbed the fire extinguisher.

And, with one blast of continuous white fog, he put the fire out.

Dispelling the spirit. Continue reading “Ghost Fire”

Speak Up

“Are you sure this is even Spanish Mrs. Rena? This doesn’t feel like normal Spanish,” I remarked, not for the first time.

Sometimes, it really sucks to be good at stuff.

Honestly, I had no idea what in the world I was saying, I was just saying it. Pronouncing it like I’d been taught, rolling my tongue and skipping over the English way of words. Hitting the letters differently as I spoke.

Again though:

I had no idea what I was saying.

I was only in Spanish I right now. Never taken up another language before in my life. All this was new to me, and hardly any of the words were recognizable. I knew almost none of them. And Mrs. Rena wouldn’t let me take my sheet home to practice, so there was no way I could look up the words. Instead, every day, I sat in the back of the class alone.

And practiced my pronunciation.

Because, apparently, it was pretty damn good.

Hence why I’d been chosen.

See? It does suck to be good at things. Continue reading “Speak Up”