Harry's Room: A Fictional Narrative

(This is too much information for one paragraph but it has been left like this to emphasise to you that whatever you choose to write about her physical appearance should all be together in one paragraph.)

“Would you like something to eat, Wulfric?” Rochelle asked and I heard the clatter of a metal pan. I rubbed my eyes and I sat against the large wood log.

You sat on the couch watching the latest reality TV show. Harry had gone out earlier this morning, so you had the apartment to yourself. "These people are so petty." You giggle out watching the girl fight with her mother. The sound of a car door shutting brought a smile to your face. Harry was home. You weren't clingy, but you did happen to miss being close to Harry once he was gone. "I'm home!" He shouts out. With an anxious giggle slipping past your lips you bounce over to the front door. Halt. What in the world had he done? He stood there looking like a puppy that knew he did something wrong. "You cut your hair?" He wanted to grow it out longer for charity, but with everything coming up you knew it was now or never. "Yeah, do you...do

She was a delightful, brave girl with brunette eyes and short hair. Her friends saw her as a fine, kind friend. Once, she had even made a cup of tea for a spotty deaf person. That's the sort of woman he was.

Freedom is a choice. A choice that can either set you flying up the sky, or will drag you to the ground. Harry Scott had everything he desired- the money, girls, but most importantly power. . Everyone assumes he is satisfied with his life. However, in reality he is sucked into a dark abyss and toxicated with betrayal and hurt. One woman destroyed him completely. Kate Henderson was once Harry's girlfriend and once his happiness. It's funny how one person brings the light out of you, but the same time brings the worst out of you. Harry did everything to ensure her happiness. Life was getting better for Harry. He finally gotten what he lusted for a long time: love.

Pete's eyes first landed on the shock of blonde hair, then moved to the girl's face, and his breathing momentarily ceased when she walked right past where he sat. It was Vivian, and she appeared even more attractive than in her DMV photo - then again, who didn't?,- however, he was unable to properly see her blue eyes. "Morning, Vivian." Pete whispered under his breath, folded the newspaper, and left it on the table along with a sizeable tip, which elicited a flirtatious smile from the waitress when she collected his empty mug and he bade her a pleasant

audience) that he will wait in a café until he finds her. The café he

The release of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child has ignited a flame that Potter fans can’t seem to extinguish. The success of Cursed Child, both in forms of a play and released on shelves, has started rumors that production studio Warner. Bros., whom produced the original Harry Potter franchise, is hoping to add onto the films. In an article written by Carly Ledbetter for Huffington Post, a source claims that the studio is “interested in a movie version of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child.” The source claims also Warner Bros. is working on getting the screenplay rights, while keeping in mind the only one who should portray Harry.

That was it. It was way too loud. Aiden slammed the mug onto the table to make his point. Steaming drops of cheap coffee erupted from the impact and flowed down onto the rotting wood. He was going to have to clean that up, and there wasn’t any Bounty left.

By the time his alarm clock chimes for the first time that morning, Ulric is already prepared to reach over and press the off button; he’s been up for hours, undoubtedly due to the sound of water, clinking, and mumbled curses coming from the kitchen downstairs. It’d started quietly enough – like a proper guest trying to stay quiet for the sake of their host – but now Benard seems to have no qualms about being as annoying as physically and emotionally possible this morning. Thank god Oakley hadn’t woken up yet, because the man of the house was definitely not going to tolerate being woken up at 5 A.M. on a Saturday. Hair tangled into messy loose curls, and gunmetal eyes shadowed by exhaustion, he slowly trudges down the hall and down the stairs, making sure to hold tightly onto the railing.

Thankfully, they have two more shows in the AAMI stadium so after-show crew work is barely there, meaning Harry can grab his personal shit from the bus and find a quiet spot to unplug for a bit. And he is absolutely flying down the halls as the promise of Fleetwood Mac and my journal and some peace and quiet for my abused eardrums takes up his entire stream of consciousness. He loves his job, even if this was only his sixth show, but he misses writing. And his free time.

I was shuffled into a white room with two stainless steel chairs facing each other across a table that was bolted to the floor. They told me to just sit down and wait. After a couple of minutes I watched as an Officer came in. He had a red folder in his hands. “What am I doing here?” I asked as he sat down. He didn’t say anything just sat down, opened the folder and took out what looked like pictures. “What are those?” I tried talking again.

“ Yeah, I just thought you would like me to make you a little breakfast,” Ally replied.

It was 1:45 am, she was in charge that night and had to close up soon. The only problem was that she didn't want to leave, the diner was the only place

“Just a cup of coffee and some pancakes, please.” She oinked with indifference and waddled to the kitchen to put in the order. He watched her pour coffee that probably originated from the same batch he ordered