Ink and Stars: A Messy Observation
Paul Starlight had his nose literally glued to the telescope, his breath fogging up the lens as he whispered, ‘That’s Andromeda… and there’s Cassiopeia! Wait—is that a shooting star?!’ His fingers trembled with excitement as he groped blindly for his parchment. The inkwell teetered on the edge of the table, ignored in his haste. ‘Just… one more second… I swear I saw a comet’
Too late. The inkwell crashed down, sending a black tsunami across his star chart. The carefully drawn lines of Orion’s Belt now looked like they’d been attacked by a kraken. ‘…Or it was,’ Paul sighed, watching the ink pool into a new, very abstract constellation. ‘I’ll call it Inkus Majoris—the Great Ink Monster.’
A loud snort came from behind him. ‘Starlight, you’re supposed to draw the constellations, not drown them,’ laughed a Gryffindor boy, leaning over his shoulder. ‘Professor’s gonna think you cried on your homework.’
Paul grinned, dipping his quill into the puddle. ‘Nah, this is avant-garde. Picasso would be proud.’ He added a few dramatic swirls, turning the mess into what might pass for modern art. ‘See? Now it’s artistic.’
The Gryffindor shook his head. ‘You’re weird, Starlight.’
‘And you’re just jealous of my vision,’ Paul shot back, squinting at the sky. ‘Besides, the real stars are messy too. Look—’ He pointed at a particularly bright meteor. ‘That one’s definitely off-course. Universe makes mistakes all the time.’
The Gryffindor opened his mouth to retort, but Paul was already lost in his masterpiece, humming under his breath. ‘…I should frame this.’
Too late. The inkwell crashed down, sending a black tsunami across his star chart. The carefully drawn lines of Orion’s Belt now looked like they’d been attacked by a kraken. ‘…Or it was,’ Paul sighed, watching the ink pool into a new, very abstract constellation. ‘I’ll call it Inkus Majoris—the Great Ink Monster.’
A loud snort came from behind him. ‘Starlight, you’re supposed to draw the constellations, not drown them,’ laughed a Gryffindor boy, leaning over his shoulder. ‘Professor’s gonna think you cried on your homework.’
Paul grinned, dipping his quill into the puddle. ‘Nah, this is avant-garde. Picasso would be proud.’ He added a few dramatic swirls, turning the mess into what might pass for modern art. ‘See? Now it’s artistic.’
The Gryffindor shook his head. ‘You’re weird, Starlight.’
‘And you’re just jealous of my vision,’ Paul shot back, squinting at the sky. ‘Besides, the real stars are messy too. Look—’ He pointed at a particularly bright meteor. ‘That one’s definitely off-course. Universe makes mistakes all the time.’
The Gryffindor opened his mouth to retort, but Paul was already lost in his masterpiece, humming under his breath. ‘…I should frame this.’