6:00
My alarm clock just rang. Like everyday, I was so tired and rather sleep the rest of the day than go to school. Flare was already awake. "What's with you?" I asked him. "You're up early." I added. "What's with you? It looks like your hair just got... I don't know.. a tornado came through? No, that was bad. How bout..." "Flare. It's called hair. It's suppose to look like this in the morning. So. Why are you up early, huh?" I asked. "I don't know. Just, woke up I guess."
I got on the bus and it was loud like always. Flare got in and looked disgusted. "This place is loud. Very loud. Lucky Zoterae." "Who?" I whispered softly. Flare can hear anything I say no matter how soft. But he can't read my mind. "No one." He said.
Flare was just floating by the ceiling of the bus because it'd be kinda akward if he sat down. Mostly because all the seats were full already.
When we reached my school, Flare was happy that we finally got here and he was the first one the leave without the doors even opening.
No sign of anyone named Steven yet.
YOU ARE READING
Spirit
AcakTHIS IS MY CHILDHOOD FAIRY TALE THAT I WROTE WHEN I WAS 9 =D SO THIS IS WHAT "IF 9-YEAR OLD TYPH WROTE A STORY" LOOKS LIKE AND OF COURSE IT'S ABOUT DREAGONS BECAUSE WHAT ELSE AM I RIGHT. PLEASE ENJOY A HORRIBLE PLOT LINE AND TERRIBLE GRAMMAR. THANK...
