| rdfs:comment
| - This story was originally written for Telos's English class, and he decided to copy it here. It's quite unlike his usual action-y stories. “In a tiny galaxy not so far away, there was once a very intelligent alien,” Grandpa began in his husky guttural voice. Stanley was sitting on his lap, beaming up eagerly. The warm comforting fire that blazed in the brick fireplace enveloped the room in a soft orange glow which gently heated up Stanley’s face, causing his cheeks to turn a rosy red. Every Friday night, Grandpa would tell Stanley a story - Stanley’s favourites always involved aliens or time travel. “His name was Borris and he wanted to travel all the way across the galaxy...” continued Grandpa to an enraptured Stanley. The smell of smoke wafted into Stanley’s nose and he breathed deeply,
|
| abstract
| - This story was originally written for Telos's English class, and he decided to copy it here. It's quite unlike his usual action-y stories. “In a tiny galaxy not so far away, there was once a very intelligent alien,” Grandpa began in his husky guttural voice. Stanley was sitting on his lap, beaming up eagerly. The warm comforting fire that blazed in the brick fireplace enveloped the room in a soft orange glow which gently heated up Stanley’s face, causing his cheeks to turn a rosy red. Every Friday night, Grandpa would tell Stanley a story - Stanley’s favourites always involved aliens or time travel. “His name was Borris and he wanted to travel all the way across the galaxy...” continued Grandpa to an enraptured Stanley. The smell of smoke wafted into Stanley’s nose and he breathed deeply, inhaling the woody burnt scent. Stanley listened intently to Grandpa’s tale and desperately tried to keep his sleepy eyes from drooping. In the flickering half-light of the fire, Grandpa’s numerous wrinkles looked like a thick black spider web covering his face. His stubbly salt-and-pepper beard rubbed against Stanley’s bright red cheek like a piece of living sandpaper. Slowly, the steady crackling of the open fire died down to an occasional snap. “I’ll be right back m’boy, I’m just stoking up the fire,” Grandpa told Stanley as he stood up. Stanley took Grandpa’s place in the padded seat, still struggling to remain awake. He curled up and gave into the temptation to close his eyes - just a quick rest, he assured himself. When Grandpa had finished putting more wood on the fire, he returned to find Stanley fast asleep. His mouth was slightly ajar and his chest rose and fell with his breathing. For a moment Grandpa simply surveyed the scene, before gently lifting Stanley up and slinging him over his shoulder. Stanley barely opened his eyes as he was picked up, quickly succumbing (once again) to the lure of sleep. Grandpa strode down the corridor and lowered Stanley onto his bed. Because he’d already put on his striped pyjamas and brushed his teeth, he was ready to go straight to sleep. Stanley awoke briefly, quickly murmured ‘Thanks Grandpa, good night,” then pulled the blankets up to his chin and was out in an instant. Grandpa smiled and replied ‘Good night, m’boy,” even though he knew Stanley could no longer hear him. Grandpa made his way back down the corridor into the TV room and fetched the remote of the table. He flicked through the channels, looking for something good. ‘The old Spider-Man TV series?! Yes!’ he exclaimed. Grandpa settled onto the sofa, stretched and gleefully watched Spider-Man, grinning from ear to ear like a child again.
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)