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Sketch Contest Honorable
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Walker | Age: 17 | Nebraska Character: Will Ashton |
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Will found that as usual, several hours had passed without
notice, slipping away into the blur of the day, before they
could be more than glanced at. The library was empty, the
red light of the setting sun glowed on lines of books, all
seeming to whisper: come read us, come discover our secrets.
Will shook his head to dispel the murmurs of distant lands
and stretched. The book that had been lying open in his lap
fell to the floor and he gently picked it up, brushed it off,
and set it back on the shelf. The chair beneath him was sagging
and the soft blue velvet was worn in spots. He didn't notice,
any more than he had noticed yesterday, or the day before.
The chair was simply there, never changing, like the library
itself. Will stood and blinked as the sun slipped easily under
the horizon, like an egg slipping from its broken shell. The
coming night crept into the library, gently laying dark fingers
over the books. Will turned and found Ja'far lying on the
rug. The wolf was snoring slightly, his huge pale paws twitching
with the excitement of a dream-chase. Will dug his toe lightly
into the wolf's ribs, through the luxuriant gray fur. Ja'far
rolled onto his belly and yawned, revealing wicked teeth and
a ridiculously long tongue. Will moved past the shelves to
the door, where Marti, the Librarian, nodded to him as he
passed her desk. Will nodded back to the slim grey-haired
lady, though she was already bent back over her pile of books
and papers, her lips pursed in concentration. Ja'far padded
behind him, claws clicking on the hardwood floor, well marked
from generations of previous claws. Once out in the refreshing
night air, Will turned to Ja'far. "Race you." Without
waiting for an answer he was off, running across the grass,
feeling the wind in his hair, clearing his mind. He lifted
his face and closed his eyes, spreading his arms to the rush
of air. It would be so easy to fly, he thought. He could just
pick up his feet and soar away. He tripped on a stone and
tumbled back down to earth with a bruising thud. Winded, he
lay on his back, spread-eagled in the grass, and Ja'far trotted
up and stood beside him, his long tongue dripping warm drool
into Will's face. Finally Will sat up and reached into his
pocket, drawing out his panpipes. He placed them against his
lips and softly played a simple lullaby, then changed to a
love song. When the song was done he simply played whatever
came to him, mimicking a birdsong, then the sound of the rain
on the library roof, then the whisper of the pages in a brand
new book. Ja'far joined in, howling up at the moon. Then they
fell silent, just sitting together in the night. It was a
perfect ending to a perfect day, Will thought, as his eyes
slipped closed.
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