By Cameron Bloomfield
The class laughed at my fire elemental, their cruel glee booming around the lecture hall like the thunderous bellows of a storm atronach.
“It’s so small,” cackled the professor.
It was no bigger than a teardrop of flame; I received a D-minus.
As the period ended, or perhaps a little beyond, the fey my classmates had summoned burnt out in wisps of smoke, crumbled to dust or evaporated into droplets of nothing. But my fire elemental remained, hovering atop my shoulder, unable to do little more than keep my left ear warm. I called it: Spark. My friend for many years.
Nicely done. Friends are more important than grades anyway!
Cut to the chase. In as few words as possible, you introduced me to your Guardian Angel. Bravo!