I can’ t keep this bottled up any longer: I am in fact JK Rowling ! I decided a month ago to challenge myself with new writing styles. That is why I started this blog where I’ve been presenting prose under a different mask everyday. It definitely has been a challenge writing stories from the point of view of a bat with photophosphorescent acne, from the frenzied mind of Tom Cruise and also most challenging of all from the point of view of a realtor but I’ve done it. I’ve grown as a writer here before your very eyes. A kind of real world magic.
   Today I’d like to introduce the world to a new character that I’ve been working on recently. Certainly this is only a morsel but it should give you a taste of the direction my writing is going in.
   (Oh and I’d also like to add, for the record, that the following characters from my wildly successful Harry Potter series are gay: Bathsheba Babbling, Baruffio, Harry’s first wand, Charis Black, page 15 of the second book, Sirius Black, Caractacus Burke, Magenta Comstock, Edgar Clogg, all of book three, Harold Dingle (of course), Colonel Fubster, Glynnis Griffiths, Duncan Inglebeea and the entire McClivert clan.)


                                                Susan the Clairvoyant Kid



  It began with a tickle of a premonition first thing in the morning. Susan walked down the steep stairs into the kitchen where her mother was frying up breakfast. Susan’s father was hidden behind the dour pages of the morning paper. Usually, Susan would go to the fridge to take a gulp of juice directly from the bottle and then her mother would scold her and her father would ruffle the pages of the paper. On this morning, however, Susan decided to check the temperature outside. She turned a sharp left, trotted through the living room and opened the front door.
   “Please dear, don’t drink from the bottle,” her mother shouted automatically. Her father ruffled his morning paper as if he were shaking it to free of crumbs, dirt and all other detritus of the world.
   “A hundred apologies,” Susan shouted her rote response. It was cold outside and she’d definitely need her thick blue sweater. No, maybe she should wear the white one she received at Christmas. Oh bother, she thought to herself, perhaps she would merely fling them all on the bed, throw a pencil in the air and wear whichever one the pencil landed on. 
    Susan was about to shut the door when she noticed a plastic bag floating in the wind towards her. To all appearances, it seemed to be an ordinary rubbish bag but when Susan looked a little closer she noted something sublime in its undulations. It landed at her feet and suddenly she found herself thinking about their pet dog Franz who had passed two years ago. 
    This somewhat ordinary looking plastic bag is the reincarnation of Franz, an inner voice said to Susan. 
    Susan picked the plastic bag up and closed the front door.
    “A hundred apologies,” her mother was muttering to herself, please dear, don’t be so sarcastic.” 
    “I shall endeavor to do my utmost to never be sarcastic again,” Susan said as she took a swig of juice from the bottle.  This was also something that she said every morning; her mother, however, was one line ahead in their morning script.
    “Please dear, don’t put your feet up on the table.”  
     Susan hurried over towards the table, sat down and put her feet up next to her empty plate. “But these feet are an offering to the family. In dire times we shall perhaps be forced to feast upon them. I know its morbid to think of now but in the cold harshness of the future, they may be a welcomed sight. I’m simply trying to help us become accustomed to the cruel possibilities of the future.”
    “Please dear, don’t be weird,” her mother said as she portioned out the fry up onto Susan’s plate.
    Out of an old habit buried like a bone in the back of her mind, Susan took some of the bacon and dropped it into the plastic bag who was once after all her dog.
   “What on earth are you doing with that plastic bag ?” her mother shouted. “Susan Girvan, how much pleading does it take to get you to maintain a modicum of normality?”
   And that’s when Susan told them about the plastic bags previous life.
   And that’s when her father put down his paper and told her that enough was enough,  and that straightaway after breakfast she was going to be sent to the insane asylum  
   And he was as good as his word.
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