Alex Hanevich

The Grand Thread and the Gray Magi

Archibald Scrimshaw sat down upon a craggy gray boulder along the dirt road to Trent. He tossed his school satchel to one side and hugged his knees, waiting. Slowly the sun rose until the cool morning air burnt off, and feeling warm he removed his blazer. With his patience thinning, he let his fingers dig into the rock's crevices and chip away pebbles which he tossed lazily into the road.