Random Flash Fiction #07
A LESSON IN WRITING
Lang coiled into a fetal position, hands on his stomach. He grunted and grinded his teeth, heaving and sweating profusely. The pages of his book planted on the dirt, no longer any different with its leather covers. He coughed and struggled.
"Oh come on, don't be such a wuss" Stepen stepped in Lang's sight, blocking the bloated orange ball in the sky from his view. The handsome young man stretched his hand towards him and read a word from the book he held in his hand.
A circle completed underneath Lang and immediately he began to feel anew, albeit still with a throbbing stomach. He pushed himself to a sit. "You could at least try NOT to kill me" he said and brushed himself as he got up, grunting. A wind from the west caught the little green blades beneath them, bending them to outrageous angles. The mountains around them faint in front of the large blue canvas, like a giant miasma.
"It is partly your fault, look at your writing" Stepen said. He pluck Lang's book from the earth and points the pages to Lang's face. Lines of unreadable sketches provoked even its owner's own eyes. "You should learn to write clearly, the book does not recognize ugly scribbling" the book closed with a puff of dark brown cloud and jumped out of Stepen's hand.
"Fine" Lang pulled the book from the air and slipped it back into its leather strap. He slung the book on his back and faced the west. The wind refreshed his body, keeping his thoughts away from the throbbing of his stomach. "You think the academy will accept us?" his brows met when grazed by the wind. "It's already spring and soon it will be our time to enroll"
Stepen closed his book and re-strapped it like Lang. "Even if they don't, they can't simply turn away two evil geniuses" he said with a laugh. The smell of fresh grass and of the distant mountains filled the gap.
"But first, you need to learn writing. That is terrible" Stepen said.
And they both laughed.