Post by U n k n o w n ; on Mar 23, 2008 19:21:01 GMT 7
The winds blew, rustling some of the dead leaves away from the ground, and new leaves up sprouting from tree branches. It was early spring. Warm, but cold enough to make you wear a jacket outside. It was a nice weather, or so he thinks.
It's pretty old fashioned of him, but he had no means of contacting apart form going straight to him, or through the room phones. His cell phone-- he had one, but he never even gave out the number. He wasn't meant to give them out anyway. It was personal. Besides, he had no objectives but to, well, do his job and graduate from this academy.
That is all.
He was bored, and nothing seemed to amuse him nowadays. He took one of them books-- the ones that had the thirty-two rose compass embedded on the front of cover. On the spine it read: '1527~1579'. He had a lot of them at hand for a long time. Nearly all his life, really. A few blanks, most written on. But no one, apart from him is meant to read it.
He sighed as he slipped on his shoes, and walked outside of his room. He kept walking his own way until he broke into a halt. A small rural piece of land, it was the west woods. It wasn't as big as the north woods and all, but it was still great.
He brushed away a few sticks and dead leaves away from the roots of a tree, and sat down underneath it. Shading him from the radiating sun. He opened his book to the page he had last read, book marked with an ace of spades, and stared to read. The boredom was realy getting into him, enough to make him read self-written history books.
It's pretty old fashioned of him, but he had no means of contacting apart form going straight to him, or through the room phones. His cell phone-- he had one, but he never even gave out the number. He wasn't meant to give them out anyway. It was personal. Besides, he had no objectives but to, well, do his job and graduate from this academy.
That is all.
He was bored, and nothing seemed to amuse him nowadays. He took one of them books-- the ones that had the thirty-two rose compass embedded on the front of cover. On the spine it read: '1527~1579'. He had a lot of them at hand for a long time. Nearly all his life, really. A few blanks, most written on. But no one, apart from him is meant to read it.
He sighed as he slipped on his shoes, and walked outside of his room. He kept walking his own way until he broke into a halt. A small rural piece of land, it was the west woods. It wasn't as big as the north woods and all, but it was still great.
He brushed away a few sticks and dead leaves away from the roots of a tree, and sat down underneath it. Shading him from the radiating sun. He opened his book to the page he had last read, book marked with an ace of spades, and stared to read. The boredom was realy getting into him, enough to make him read self-written history books.
