Not So Easy

The author's comments: I do not own Harry Potter at all. The wonderful J.K. Rowling owns it. One Shot If only it where so easy to talk about the war with his children. They always asked about it, asked about his scars. But he never told them the truth. It was to hard to think about let alone tell his children of the crap he went through. Ginny always told him that he would have to tell them one day. Its not as if they didn’t know he, Harry, had killed Voldemort. No it was not as if they didn’t know most of it. But yet, he didn’t what to relive it. He didn’t what to think about telling his children about war. About hard ship when they had it so easy. No it wasn’t that easy. One day, when Lily was fourteen and James seventeen and Al sixteen, Harry knew he would tell his children the story of his life. “Ok you lot, get down here.” He called, trying to sound at ease, but his insides were in knots from just thinking about the past. “James did it we!” Lily yelled as she came down the stairs, her long red hair in a pony tail. “I haven’t done a thing dad!” James said. He had brownish red hair. Albus was next to come down, looking just like his dad but without the scar. “James, what about trying to turn Lily’s hair pink?” Albus said. James turned on the stairs to glare at his brother. “Well at least I’m not a slimy snake!” James almost yelled at his brother. Harry chuckled to himself. How he loved his children, even when they would fight over the dumbest things. “You tried to turn my hair pink! You prat!” Lily yelled. James smirked. “Mum stopped me. I just wanted you to look more like your crush, Teddy Lupin.” he said the name with a fake dreamy look. Before Lily could hurt her elder brother, Harry said, “You lot need to calm down. Now would you please go and sit in the sitting room.” Harry asked. They teenagers nodded and walked to the sitting room. Harry followed and sighed. “I know you all know most of my story, but I want to tell you the real stuff. How I felt.” Harry said looking into their eyes. They said nothing, their faces shocked. They knew their father hated talking about the war or life before it. Unless it was a good thing. Harry began from the beginning. When Voldemort tried to kill him. He told them al about it. How he felt and everything. After four hours of so, he ended and looked at all three shocked faces. No one said anything for five minutes. Then, all of the suddun, Lily got up and hugged her father. Harry hugged her back. Then both boys hugged him too. Harry cried as he held his children. Ginny came in and hugged him from behind. They stayed like that for lord only knows how long. When they all pulled apart, Harry said with red eyes, “I love you all.” The End.


Where is he? Take a happy memory, old, rarely visited. Imagine it as a painting, oil on canvas. See the subjects, how they laugh, smile, dance. One does not. Follow that gaze to the dark corners. Someone casts a long shadow, out of view. There he is. The Shadow Man.


“Pa! They’re here.” “Who?” “The crows.” “Jeez, Ma, give it a rest.” “They’re watching.” “What?” “The garden, just waiting for the plants to grow, ripen.” “Ma!” “Then they’ll do their dirty work.” “Yer crazy, cut it out!” “Pa! One landed!” “Wait, Ma, no! Come back. Heck! Crow for dinner again.” Robin writes in the odd … Continue reading ROBIN D ANDERSON: Watching →

ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: See How Much It Weighs (My Father in the Rain, pt. 3)

When someone can’t show up, my uncle asks me to be a pall bearer. I carry Grandpa to the ground with five men I don’t know. Grandpa who used to snatch my nose with his thick mechanic fingers. Grandpa whose skin is like rubber. I carry him to the ground. Robert Hoekman Jr thinks you … Continue reading ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: See How Much It Weighs (My Father in the Rain, pt. 3) →


Rough and sharp, her voice is filled with demons. She hides beneath her tongue, a monster dancing before you. Angry and alert, her life is emergency. She rails and hurls insults – of course it’s all your fault. You hold on tight and pray you’ll make it through her teenage years. Eliza Mimski, a retired … Continue reading ELIZA MIMSKI: Holding On →


We woke under a perilous sun: too red, too hot, too close. How did we come here and how would we ever get back? We meant only to watch, to observe the Arcane Plane. But one cannot observe without becoming part. The mirror showed us more than our own darkness. Casey Laine comes from a … Continue reading CASEY LAINE: Affinity →