Post by Felix I. Genero on Feb 21, 2008 16:45:48 GMT -5
Felix nose itched.
As the young thirteen-year-old Gryffie wondered around the school, he decided to take a trip down to the dungeons. He hadn’t visited them recently and he needed a break from all his thinking. Some said everything that when on inside his thickhead was dangerous for his health, that it might explode or wear out. Felix had no intention on breaking his brain any time soon seeing that he was quite attached to it. He could not imagine what in the world he would do without his precious organ inside his skull atop his head that kept him running. Some would probably wish I would stop though, seeing that he had either made them feel like a worthless slug, told them off, got them in trouble, or even if by his words they were driven crazy by the not-stoppingness of it. All of the above items were on his regular list of things he had done.
In the hot end of summer and fall the dank dungeon was always a much colder drop in temperature then the rest of the castle and most definitely a frigate compared to the wide-open vast outdoors with the sun beating down on you. But now, the dead of winter, much to Felix’s and most definitely other first year students at Firefox University surprise, it was warm. The outside was cold and bitter with winds that could steal your very soul with a lone arctic-like breeze. Even inside the castles thick majestic stonewalls, a magical poltergeists breeze snuck in some secret crack and send a shiver down some unsuspecting student. Now, as the earth was warmer then the air around you, it’s radiant heat, how little that it may be, warmed up the dungeons to a highly favored temperature.
As Felix walked down the cold steps, which still were always at least a couple degrees colder then, well, anything, the soles of his sneakers send an echo worth sound down the long way down to the lowest levels of the University. His nose still itched and he had noted for the past hour or so. He tried scratching it yet it didn’t work. It didn’t seem to matter what he did it still would tingle just as before as if a bug was crawling up his nostril. No spell that he could every think of was a cure to such a minute problem, no spell had he ever read cured itchiness. It was like no wizard ever though to solve it. Felix was thinking of just that as he found himself soon on the bottom step.
Looking down the long gray hall Felix saw, heard and even smelt nothing. It was like these deserted corridors were meant to be a Crypt or something. Like ancient chambers of secrets for no one to find their true meaning. But Felix would figure out. His ears were quicker then most. His mouth was too but that is a different story. The secret they hold would soon be found and he was determined to do just that. After walking a short while, Felix slumped down against a wall and stared up at the stones that lined the ceiling. They were not even, and not in a evenly ordered pattern. Looking at each tile, Felix walked, looking up at them, looking for a repeat of style. None came. It was like it was a story with each chapter different. Felix walked back to where he started and repeated his task, walking strait, looking up, but this time he memorized their pattern. He would have to decode it later, it was implanted in his photographic memory for later use. He would ‘develop’ it in the morning.
His nose still itched.
As the young thirteen-year-old Gryffie wondered around the school, he decided to take a trip down to the dungeons. He hadn’t visited them recently and he needed a break from all his thinking. Some said everything that when on inside his thickhead was dangerous for his health, that it might explode or wear out. Felix had no intention on breaking his brain any time soon seeing that he was quite attached to it. He could not imagine what in the world he would do without his precious organ inside his skull atop his head that kept him running. Some would probably wish I would stop though, seeing that he had either made them feel like a worthless slug, told them off, got them in trouble, or even if by his words they were driven crazy by the not-stoppingness of it. All of the above items were on his regular list of things he had done.
In the hot end of summer and fall the dank dungeon was always a much colder drop in temperature then the rest of the castle and most definitely a frigate compared to the wide-open vast outdoors with the sun beating down on you. But now, the dead of winter, much to Felix’s and most definitely other first year students at Firefox University surprise, it was warm. The outside was cold and bitter with winds that could steal your very soul with a lone arctic-like breeze. Even inside the castles thick majestic stonewalls, a magical poltergeists breeze snuck in some secret crack and send a shiver down some unsuspecting student. Now, as the earth was warmer then the air around you, it’s radiant heat, how little that it may be, warmed up the dungeons to a highly favored temperature.
As Felix walked down the cold steps, which still were always at least a couple degrees colder then, well, anything, the soles of his sneakers send an echo worth sound down the long way down to the lowest levels of the University. His nose still itched and he had noted for the past hour or so. He tried scratching it yet it didn’t work. It didn’t seem to matter what he did it still would tingle just as before as if a bug was crawling up his nostril. No spell that he could every think of was a cure to such a minute problem, no spell had he ever read cured itchiness. It was like no wizard ever though to solve it. Felix was thinking of just that as he found himself soon on the bottom step.
Looking down the long gray hall Felix saw, heard and even smelt nothing. It was like these deserted corridors were meant to be a Crypt or something. Like ancient chambers of secrets for no one to find their true meaning. But Felix would figure out. His ears were quicker then most. His mouth was too but that is a different story. The secret they hold would soon be found and he was determined to do just that. After walking a short while, Felix slumped down against a wall and stared up at the stones that lined the ceiling. They were not even, and not in a evenly ordered pattern. Looking at each tile, Felix walked, looking up at them, looking for a repeat of style. None came. It was like it was a story with each chapter different. Felix walked back to where he started and repeated his task, walking strait, looking up, but this time he memorized their pattern. He would have to decode it later, it was implanted in his photographic memory for later use. He would ‘develop’ it in the morning.
His nose still itched.