Forum Thread

this is a retelling of a very old story i wrote for myself. that's all. its merely for fun. i will not correct the spelling and grammar mistakes in this. or well. at least not make too big a deal about it.

[LEMVIG, DENMARK - 2012]
Storm watches by the window. Resting his head on his sole hand, he could really not care less of what was actually outside. A resting position without any rest. Readying yourself to jump up and fight at any time. Not like there was any need to fight, anyways. Life is relatively tame.
Counting the cars coming by with half the commitment to keep the tally, Storm feels himself drifting into what looks more like a rest. Quickly grabbing a pillow from the couch, placing it under him on the windowsill, and hastily planting himself on top of it, he shut his eyes. Rest did he, with his body position a bit weird, his body not comfortable at all, and with all the added noise from the kitchen.

Although with all heroes, the rest did not laugh for more than 10 minutes at the least. Why else should a man willfully travel on a dangerous mission if not for exhaustion?

Feeling a hand on his back, Storm jolts, instantly turning his head around. He lays a hand around his neck. Shouldn't have been so hasty. He meets a woman's eyes. Big eyes, he notes. Filled with a bit of every color on the Earth, with a big black dot in the middle. It was his mom, so he kinda knows how she looked already, but he still takes the time to look around her face. Blonde hair slowly turning to complete white. Ears so well-hidden, that even a moron could tell she wasn't an elf. It was her, alright.

"Hello," Storm greets. He does a shy wave from under where he's sitting. Admittedly, it is a bit hard to wave from there, but he makes a great effort.
When she doesn't immediately respond, he adds to his greeting, "Mother." Despite no person in Lemvig using 'mother' as a serious word outside of church and Danish class.

This, she reacts to, however. As if a warm breeze hit her face, the memory of a summer day in Mallorca reappearing in her mind, she fronts a small smile. It's infectious, too. Storm can't help but send the smile back.
She reaches her hand out and ruffles his hair. Other boys in the class always share how annoying their mothers are, but Storm doesn't see it at all. He melts into the touch like a content cat.

She removes her hand and finds a chair over to the windowsill, sitting opposite to the boy. She folds her hands and puts on her serious mom voice. Storm listens intensely.
"Do you remember 'Uncle Ole'?"
He nods.
"It's his last week on the job before taking his pension leave, so the guys at the clinic are thinking of going to Holstebro for some days to celebrate the man," she unfolds her hands, now playing with her thumb. "From Monday to Wednesday. Do you think you could watch the house?"

Monday to Wednesday. Storm lays a finger to his chin. That is a whole... many days. Without mom. Wow. If this was Lucas talking, he would talk on and on about how it was no challenge to him. Storm isn't Lucas, though.
He folds his hands, mimicking his mom.
"Then you have to be home early on Wednesday!"

She smiles, a big heartfelt smile.
"Aye aye, big man. Get to bed now, will you? There's still some days till Monday."

[LEMVIG BAGER, DENMARK - 2012]

SATURDAY Storm stands by as Agnes looks at all the different pastries. Big and small, monochrome and full of color - they truly have it all. He instinctively puts a hand on his own stomach, just to get a bigger understanding of his hunger. He nods decisively. He can most definitely take a small pastry down.

"Do you have any favorites?" Agnes asks politely but decides to answer her own question nothing short but a second later. "I really like kajkager. They taste very green."

Storm sends her a look of utter confusion but changes to a more understanding one when it looks like she's about to open her mouth again. It's not as if Storm is a rude person, he just doesn't favor a case of long Agnes explanations inside of Mesterbageren at its most populated hour.

"I like hindbærsnitter," he tries to combat. "They remind me of walks in the forest with my mom."

Agnes is nice in that aspect that she will never, ever call Storm out on his fondness to his mother. She likes her family a lot more than him, so she really shouldn't even be judging. But she isn't. So whatever. Storm kind of lost the thread in this thought bubble, so let's just move on.

Finally, it's their turn to talk to the poor bakery worker. Storm finds him a little scary, so Agnes takes one for the team and orders their favorite pastries. Walking out of the bakery with a satisfied smile on their lips and a little jam on the cheek, the two friends find a bench to sit down and stretch their legs.
Agnes begins unfolding her one braid nonchalantly. Storm watches as the blonde hair hits her shoulders, a quick question on his mind. Pondering to ask or not, he finally chooses to just get it out of his system.

"Why not just keep the hair up?"

Agnes spares him a look - a smiley one at that - and replies just as carefree as if still inside the bakery, "I just like it better like this!"