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Thwarted Again
No, no I don't have anything better to do than drabble. Well, actually I do, and I feel very guilty about the fact that I'm not doing it. But inspiration keeps striking, and I really like drabbling. It's like...bonsai fiction.
Title: Thwarted Again
Word Count: 100
Characters: Remus, The Whomping Willow(?)
A/N: I have to thank my brother, who will never read this, for the phrase "impotent, arboreal rage", which I really like. Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hp100 challenge #95, "Root".
The Whomping Willow loves to hit things. Attack them, destroy them, hurt them. Branches flailing and lashing out in an endless stream of vegetative wrath, driving away all those that come near.
After the teachers put a stop to the game of running up to touch its trunk, the Willow didn't get to hit things very much anymore. Even the birds knew better than to try to nest in its branches.
This is why, every month, the Willow quivers with anticipation as the thin, sickly-looking boy approaches, and then shudders in impotent, arboreal rage as he slips beneath its roots.
Title: Thwarted Again
Word Count: 100
Characters: Remus, The Whomping Willow(?)
A/N: I have to thank my brother, who will never read this, for the phrase "impotent, arboreal rage", which I really like. Written for the
hp100 challenge #95, "Root".The Whomping Willow loves to hit things. Attack them, destroy them, hurt them. Branches flailing and lashing out in an endless stream of vegetative wrath, driving away all those that come near.
After the teachers put a stop to the game of running up to touch its trunk, the Willow didn't get to hit things very much anymore. Even the birds knew better than to try to nest in its branches.
This is why, every month, the Willow quivers with anticipation as the thin, sickly-looking boy approaches, and then shudders in impotent, arboreal rage as he slips beneath its roots.
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