Street Photographer

It's Monday and the second prompt from Hornsby Shire Libraries has been posted as promised at Street Photographer, Roland Wakelin, 1939 on Fb.

Here's the picture of the stimulus followed by my painting in words.

Sun rays twinkled on the water drops that were desperately clinging on to the blades of grasses unwilling to evaporate to oblivion. Christine gazed through the mullioned windows wistfully at the glitter, her heart dancing away with the breeze over fields, off to the nearby hills. The English lesson on chapter analysis of 'Man in the Iron Mask' by Alexandre Dumas was falling on her deaf ears.

At the chime of ten on their clock tower the irascible Ms Speters commanded, 'Christine, Charlie, Rupert, follow me,' her nostrils flared, her thin chin up, and glasses sliding half way down her acquiline nose.

She could easily play Ms McGonagall, Christine thought in dismay, as she jerked back to her senses and stood up. The boys were still sitting at their desks, irresolute.

'Am I speaking Hebrew?'

At that the three filed out of the classroom, leaving the rest of the students introspecting in hushed voices.

They stole a glance secretly, gesturing what they were going to be hung, drawn, and quartered for.

Charlie mumbled indistinctly, 'we were quieter today, weren't we Christine?'

'I believe so,' she replied anxiously, and added, 'we even submitted our assignments on time.'

'Didn't we help her handing out the worksheets?' Rupert added, brows furrowed.

The three of them reflected in whispers; impish they were at class, but being separated for no evident reason put them on tenterhooks.

'Detention would be so unfair,' Christine mouthed squinting her eyes.

The three bosom buddies, also neighbours, stayed glued together, like always.

Ms Speters, surprisingly, led them to their most favourite classroom: a large room, walls covered with velvety navy blue drapes, light-weight chairs and tables that kept moving to make for suitable viewing of the drama stage; that room never felt gloomy even with the dark ambience, it always bustled with cheery children.

'Hullo there,' Mr Manly greeted them with a chortle, his eyes proud as if he achieved something great, 'I'll take it from here. Thanks Ms Speters for allowing them some time off your lessons; they'll be done soon I'm sure.'

'Pleasure,' she managed a smile and left.

The three of them instantly jumped and capered in joy.

Mr Manly was a person of amicable disposition, so the three of them pranced and pirouetted along with him blindly when he led them out to the grounds. But the moment they stepped out of the Georgian Gothic brownstone edifice they were taken aback. Lords and ladies in the finest milliner's hats were reconnoitering their school grounds; they looked quite outlandish, or rather they in their school uniform appeared out of plance among the intruders. The threesome recoiled and took a step back.

Mr Manly moved on to shake hands with the one in black attire and who was continuously clicking away at the little camera encased within his long slender fingers. They couldn't have known it was Canon EOS R6. The man thanked Mr Manly profusely for arranging everything - what that everything was the trio couldn't quite catch. But once Mr Manly wheeled round to move back, they were pushed to the centre stage. 

'Isn't it rude that the accompanying ladies are pointing at us?' Charlie hissed.

'What are they judging us for?' Rupert muttered in dismay through clenched teeth.

Christine could only get, she could be Rose, through their murmurs.

'Boy, aren't we ready,' the gangling man kneeled down and eased them out of their apprehension. Without much ado they transformed the green grounds with their castle-like-school to the magical world of Hogwarts, not with props or elaborate setups,  but with action. Together they impeccably enacted several scenes from the Philosopher’s Stone, each setting a new bar of performance for the next. The three of them conjured magic in the atmosphere effortlessly, the crew of wizardry professors matching up to their zest.

In the midst of the din they overheard the tall mam with camera saying, 'Impressive.'

'I knew,' Mr Manly's exuberance was palpable, 'they just aren't fans, they are HP fiends!'

'This could be their express-ticket to stardom, you know,' the man beamed.

Transpired, the crew had come down for a surprise audition, arranged mostly by Mr Manly, for the making of 'Cursed Child'. Whether Christine, Charlie, and Rupert were selected did not matter just then, for all they knew they had a magical day indeed!

Dona, Sydney, August 2021.

If you enjoyed the read, try the first prompt of the series: The Mirror on the Wall.