An ordinary tale of extraordinarY people
A Melancholy Celebration
This is the story of a boy, a boy named Philip. Philip the Warrior.
Philip was an average boy. He had no strange habits, no special powers. He didn’t have exotic purple hair or feathery wings.
No, Philip was just ordinary.
Now, you may be thinking: what’s so special about the story of a boy so ordinary?
And you have every right to think that. A boy so ordinary must lead a fairly ordinary life, right?
Well, if that’s what you think, then you might as well stop reading this right now.
Go on. Switch tabs. Shut down the computer. Close the lid.
It’s alright. I won’t stop you.
You probably have other priorities to attend to, anyways.
Still here? Well, then settle into your seat. Make yourself really comfortable. Because the story that I am about to tell you is anything but ordinary.
I first met Philip on the morning of my ninth birthday. I was busy preparing for my party: setting the table, frosting the cake, excitingly going about, making sure everything was just perfect.
The majority of the party was to take place outside, so I helped my mom set up an empty table by the side of the house, a place for my guests to place the presents they brought.
I was wearing my brand new, bright pink dress. I had sparkly flats to match, and in my hair were two pink barrettes, one on each side, holding back my bangs.I had red hair originally. My entire family on my dad’s side was all gingers as far as I could remember. But the more I stood out in the sun, the lighter and lighter my hair became. By the time I turned six, I had almost a light brunette hair color.
However, even though my red hair began to fade, my freckles were still there, and more prominent than ever. My dad used to tease me about them all the time. “Des,” he’d nag, “what’s it like to have the entire night sky sprawled out across your face?”
I’d laugh and roll my eyes. “They’re just freckles, dad.”
“Just freckles?” he’d exclaim. “Well, do you ever draw constellations on those ‘just freckles?’”
I’d giggle and shake my head no. Mom would have a cow if I ever drew on my face.
The party was almost ready now. The guests would begin to arrive at any moment. I peeked through the screen door and glanced at the clock on the stove. ‘2:55’ it read.
The party was supposed to start at three. But I assumed a few people would show up late, so I didn’t plan on doing anything big until around 3:30. That would give my guests and I time to just hang around, talk, and play.
It was 2:58 when the first guest arrived. It was Antoinette, a foster child from Russia. She and I went to the same school.
I first began going to school when I was five years old. My parents thought a boarding school was the best decision for me, since that’s how they were both raised.
Each year, on September 2, I would pack up everything at home and head thirty miles east, where my only girl boarding school was located. I would then stay there for the entire school year. On June 10 of each year, I would repack all my belongings and head back home for the summer.
Luckily my birthday was in July, which was right in the middle of summer break. So I got to spend it with my family.
Antoinette ran over to me and gave a tight hug. I directed her over to the present table and she set her gift down. It was a dark pink bag with blue stripes. It was about the size of my pillow upstairs in my bedroom, and I couldn’t wait to open it.
Grace was the next to arrive.
Grace was one of the first friends I made at school. She had greeted me the second I walked in the door.
“Hi!” she said, enthusiastically. We were both five at the time. “My name is Grace, and you’re going to hate it here.”
No one arrived for a while after that. Grace, Antoinette and I played a round of tic-tac-toe in the sand box while we waited.
It was then that I heard a rustling noise in the bushes by the fence. Naturally, being almost nine, I was extremely curious. I figured it was just a squirrel or mole or something to that extent, but until I knew just what made that noise, my imagination wouldn’t leave me alone.
I exused myself from Grace and Antoinette and headed quickly over to the bushes. I poked my hands through the leaves and pulled back the branches.
And it was there that I saw a small boy.
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