A Morning Run

[Maria Sanchez]

ooc;; open

Yet again, Maria Sanchez found herself unable to sleep. Tossing and turning had accompanied her restless night as well as the many aches and pains that came with any bed but the one situated in the master bedroom of her home--the one she shared with her beloved husband. When she sat up and gazed out the window and realized that the sun hadn’t even awoken yet, she let out a groan and fell back against her pillow with a heavy sigh. It was not that she hated mornings, because she loved them, but she was tired of not being able to sleep and then having to go all day on one or two cups of coffee and whatever bit of sleep she had, which tended to be not a lot most of the time. The worst part about it all was that Maria was not exactly a young woman anymore, and she was most definitely not a teenager that could stand only a minimal amount of hours of sleep and be fresh for day ahead of her; no, she was a fifty-year-old woman who enjoyed her sleep very much and could sometimes be cranky without it.

After several moments of just lying there on her back and staring up at the ceiling, Maria let out a heavy sigh and rolled over and out of bed. She almost had to force herself to get up because her body was telling her to sleep even though her eyes and mind would not let her. She was awake now, more so than she wished to be, and figured that she would start her day a bit earlier than she usually would on a Sunday morning such as that one, especially since there was absolutely no one else up at the moment, or so she assumed. So, with a heavy sigh, she dug through her dresser drawers and pulled out a set of clothing that she would wear for her morning run. She didn’t usually run but since her arrival at Hogwarts, she figured that it may be best if she did. Besides, if she was able to lose that little bit of extra weight she had, though it wasn’t much, maybe she would be able to feel young again.

After having pulled on her clothes, the woman pulled a brush through the many unruly curls of hair top her head. She winced at the pain as the brush pulled through the many tangles and yanked at her hair. This was her least favorite part about the morning. Her hair was extremely thick, especially after it was washed, and it was really frizzy and really curly. Pulling a brush through it just made it worse; once a brush was pulled through it, she looked like an over-washed poodle whose owner gave no care when brushing her. For that very reason, Maria Sanchez parted her hair in the middle and made two individual braids, one at each side, to keep her hair tame. Once her braids were finished, she reached into her underwear-bra-and-sock drawer and pulled out a vibrant, green bandana and wrapped it around her head, tying it at the back. She had decided to wear a bandana so that the top of her hair would not frizz like it had already started to do.

Once she was ready and dressed to go outside, the professor made a quick trip down to the staff lounge. There she grabbed herself a quick cup of coffee to help wake her up and then made sure to get a bottle of water. The last time she had gone running, which was the previous week, she had made the mistake of not drinking anything beforehand and not bringing anything with her to prevent dehydration. This time she was going to be prepared. This time she was going to warm up before she ran. This time she was not going to jump into something she knew very well she wasn’t ready for. This time she would be smart, not stupid, and not do what she did last time.

***

The woman had been running for about fifteen minutes. She knew that she was running on the grounds, but she had no idea where her slender legs were carrying her. She was just letting them move and carry her as they pleased and where they pleased. Just as long as they did not run her into the lake or into the creepy forest, she was quite alright. And, thus far, they seemed to be doing a great job at avoiding both places as well as the abusive tree located near the castle. Her legs were, however, carrying her to a place where she could not recall having ever been. However, upon seeing the place and examining it thoroughly, she realized that it was probably the Quidditch Pitch. There was a large stadium accompanied by tall poles with rings atop them through with the woman assumed was thrown a ball. Then there were seats surrounding the entire place; she assumed the students and professors--the spectators--sat there for the games. If she remembered correctly, she remembered Emily having mentioned this place to her before.

Emily, now a second year student, had begged her mother to buy her a broom that summer. Maria had never been one to allow her children something so dangerous as that, but dear Emily had wanted to play Quidditch so badly. Maria had tried and tried to tell her that she would not play Quidditch because of its dangers, but the young girl was stubborn and persistent, just like her mother, and stopped at nothing. So, Maria eventually gave it--only because she was tired of hearing the twelve-year-old girl’s whining. So, when try-outs started, Emily would be there at the Hufflepuff practices and such to try out for a position on the team. Deep down, being the overprotective mother that she was, Maria Sanchez hoped dearly that her daughter was not given a position on the team. As much as she loved seeing her children happy, she really did not want to see Emily on the team. She was Maria’s little girl, and the possibility of her getting hurt scared Maria to no end. The world was a bad enough place as it was, and people got hurt and killed everyday. Maria did not want to allow her daughter to chance her life as a child. That was the last thing she needed--to lose a child. But then again… Nayib was an auror at the Ministry of Magic and put his life on the line. But then again…he was an adult, too, and could make most of his own decisions.

The professor slowed her job to a walk and eventually stopped in the midst of her steps. She exhaled deeply and bent over some, putting her hands on her knees. She let out a slight cough and cleared her throat, shaking her head as she stood there to regain her breath. She placed a hand on her heart and felt it racing inside her chest. She felt that rush from running and grinned, glad that she could feel her heart beating and hear her breaths breathing for air; it just reminded her just how alive she was. She straightened her back and stood up and looked around. She blinked a few times and let out a heavy sigh and allowed her eyes to take in the entire area of the Quidditch Pitch. Then, no longer able to resist the slight pain in her legs, she plopped down on the dewy grass beneath her and just sat there.

[Saint Pitiful]

Brrrinnggg Eyes flying open, Saint looked over at the loud alarm clock as the little golden hammer hit madly on the small golden bells on the side. Giving out a heavy sigh, Saint put his hand on the back of the clock and flipped the off switch. It was early to be up, too early. The sun hadn't even poked its head for the world to see. Rolling back over on his side, Saint looked out at the window that was across the dorm. He hated how he had told himself he would wake so early. But he need a new idea for a painting, and most good times of day to get a fresh idea was early in the morning. Closing his eyes only for a second, he tried not to let himself go back to sleep. And closing his eyes didn't really work much.

Giving a sigh, Saint sat up and crawled out of the bed. Seeing that all of his dorm mates were still asleep in their beds, it made him feel stupid to be getting up so early. Walking over to his dresser, he pulled out a black shirt and a pair of jeans. Putting the clothes on, Saint walked into the bathroom, yawning. Looking at his face in the mirror, he pulled out a wash cloth from a new set of towels that the house elves had put their the night before. Wetting the cloth in the sink, Saint began to wash his face. Once that was done, he brushed his teeth and combed his black hair some.

Picking up a thin jacket, Saint put it on and grabbed a black leather bag that carried art supples in it. Walking back over to his bed he slipped on a pair of black and white checkered Vans and put a pack of cigarettes in the pocket on his jeans. Making his way down out of the dorm and down the stair case, he saw soon that in the common room no one was up.

Walking out of the school and thought the grass, he could see that it was wet from the dew that morning. He didn't know where he was walking to, but he knew that when he found what he was looking for he would stop. Going across the grounds he soon came to the Quidditch Pitch. Saint had never played the sport while he was in school and really never was into it. Sports had never been his thing, even as a child he would want to stay inside and draw then go play outside with the other kids. As he came more up on the field he could see someone sitting in the grass, on their head was a bright green bandanna. He didn't really know who it was at first, but she was up pretty early as well.

Soon Saint's eyes left the woman sitting in the grass as he saw how the rising sun made the world look. That was it! Something new. Something that he hadn't even thought of making before. Putting his hand in the leather bag, he pulled out a Muggle camera and took a picture of what he saw. Just in case he never got to finish what he was looking at and could work on it later. Looking back at the woman in the grass, Saint guessed it would be nice to be friendly and say hello than just stare at her. "Morning." He called to her, hopping she heard him.

[Maria Sanchez]

A gentle breeze blew across the grounds. As it brushed against the professor’s slightly rosy-colored cheeks, the woman allowed her dark eyes to close slowly and gently. It was so peaceful and quiet out that morning, and the professor was easily able to allow herself to get lost within it. Most people would probably think her odd for allowing herself to become engulfed in weather and the outdoors, but she felt that it was just a better way to get in touch with her inner self and God--perhaps even better than praying or meditating. She could not really vouch on which was best for her since she didn’t pray as often as she should have and since she didn’t meditate at all; but, of the two things that she did do, she felt that becoming lost in weather and nature was the best way to find out who she truly was. It was profound to her, and she like it when things were profound. It gave them more of a meaning.

For a moment she just concentrated on her breathing. She was still trying to catch her breath from when she was running only moments before. The concentration seemed to help, for her breaths eventually started to slow until they were at their normal rate again. She swallowed some and inhaled one last time, deeply, and allowed her nose to take in the scents of the early autumnal weather that was taking shape around them. Indeed, it was somewhat chilly out, but she had taken no notice of it since she had been running, which caused her to feel hotter than she actually was.

Yet another gentle breeze blew against her face. It carried within it the same feel as the other breeze she had felt, but this time also a nearby sound. It was the sound of a voice; she presumed that it was of a male. She could not tell his age or his appearance, but she assumed that he was young since the voice had sounded as if it had not yet reached the years of puberty--the years in which all changes occur in any person, male or female. She opened her eyes.

Standing some feet away from her was a young boy, a teenager she assumed, with a leather bag on his shoulder at his side. She blinked a few times and looked at him, tilting her head slightly to the side. He had greeted her with a simple ‘morning’, which made her smile. She opened her own mouth and spoke, returning the greet. “Good morning,” she paused momentarily, “you’re up early.”

[Saint Pitiful]

Taking in the cool touch of air as it gently kissed his face. Saint never minded the cold feel from the wind, but sometimes it wasn't a nice feel, as of a morning when you miss the feeling of your warm bed. But he did loved the way the sun looked as it touched the earth, making everything glittery and new like. It was like something you would see in a dream or a children book when you were young.

Walking more across the dewy grass, he started to get a better look at the woman he had spoken to. She looked like someone he had seen around the school before, but was a little unsure. He didn't know a lot of the staff at the school now, mostly with new teachers coming and going each year. Hearing her greet him back and tell him he was up early, he nodded. "Too early for a Sunday. But I had a job to do, if I didn't do it I was going to regret it later." Saint had done that before. Plan to do thing for an idea on a new word of art and never done it.

Seeing she was sitting in the grass, Saint didn't find it to be that bad of an idea. Taking his leather bag off his shoulder, he lied it down first before sitting himself. Looking back at the picture he had just took on the Muggle camera, Saint studied it for a moment. He hated when you would take a picture of something and when you would look back at it on a camera it would never looked the same as it had looked in real life. He sighed and sat the camera on his leg; opening the leather bag he pulled out a notepad and a pencil.