****On Hiatus****
Have you ever imaged what it was like to live in a world where magic is real? Not fairy magic. No, magic that gives your spirit a friend. Some would call them companions or spirit animals. I call them Warriors and their human, Tatt...
In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.
-Robert Frost
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Kira
I walked through my house sighing. This year, my parents were literally forcing me to go back to school.
It's not that I don't like school, I just hate being around all the people who have their Warrior animal already. They think they are better than everyone else and it makes me want to slap someone.
I mean don't go flaunting around that you have an animal when you and your animal pretty much hate each other.
There were quite a few incidents last year where somebody would be fighting with their Warrior in the hallway.
It wasn't pretty.
Anyways, back to my sucky morning. I walked into the kitchen, smelling the yummy waffles. They are my life. I can not survive without waffles. And if you hate waffles, kept it in your butt.
"Hi Mom." I said startling her. She jumped and whipped around, the spatula in the middle of flipping a waffle. I watched as the poor waffle flopped to the ground.
Splat.
"No! My baby!" I ran over to the fallen waffle and carefully picked it up and cradled it to my chest. I looked up and glared at my mother. "This is an endangered species mother! You can't just throw it on the floor."
My mom giggled at me. "There are plenty more of your species at the store." I glared at her all the same.
"Every one counts mother. We must not waste a single waffle life." I patted the waffle, before standing up and heading to the trash. Giving my poor waffle one last look, I tossed it into the trash.
"Alright you moping child, I have the last one prepared if you want it?" I whipped my head around and donned a bright smile. The last waffle sat lonely on a plate, syrup dripping into the delicious squares in the middle of the waffle.
Walking up to the plate I reached out to grab it, but instantly got my hand smacked away by my mother.
A wounded expression covered my face and I whimpered a small, "Why?".
My mother frowned at me before chastising me. "I am not your maid missy, so if you want to eat the food I make you must say please and thank you. It is respectful to the one caring for you."
