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Prodigy (standard:Flash, 1216 words) | |||
Author: Reid Laurence | Added: May 19 2006 | Views/Reads: 3844/2298 | Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes) |
A child prodigy creates the surprise of a lifetime! | |||
Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story the first place, I remember thinking to myself simply... This, I gotta see. Walking back to the kitchen while she was still getting her tools ready, I brought out a loaf of wheat bread and the bologna we'd talked about, and set them on the dining room table accompanied by a glass of apple juice she'd been fond of drinking ever since she was a baby. “Have yerself a time, girl,” I said, never dreaming that she might actually come through and create a shape even remotely similar to what she'd spoken of, but two hours later, after I'd finished writing out my report, I decided to have a look at what little Ellie had been so diligently working on and low and behold, I swear for the life of me, I couldn't believe what my eyes were telling me. There on the table in marvelous three-dimensional space sat the Great Stellated Truncated Dodecahedron in all it's mathematical glory, carved completely out of wheat bread and bologna! “Ellie!” I exclaimed, “You're a mathematical genius! The formulas for the side relationships for that thing are tough enough, but you've actually gone and built that monster. I can't believe it. I just can't believe it.” “It's just a pattern dad,” she replied. “Once you get into it, it becomes repetitious.” “Sure it's a pattern,” I answered. “But an enormously difficult one. Too difficult, in fact, for most adults, and you've knocked this thing out as a kid, Ellie. That's remarkable.” “So what now dad?” she asked, feeling the slight depression kick in of an artist who realizes that after the project is completed, the needs for self expression and the challenge to create something out of nothing become replaced by feelings of emptiness and loss. “I'm not sure,” I replied. “What you've done is just fantastic, but I know one thing. If the newspapers get wind of this, people will never leave you alone. Reporters and newscasters will be bugging us constantly. The phone will be ringing off the hook, and your friends will treat you like your too different to hang around with. You won't be one of the crowd anymore, that's for sure.” “So whadda we do?” asked Ellie. “Near as I can see, the only thing we can do. We eat the evidence.” And so, sadly, we began tearing off sections of the perfectly shaped, tasty Dodecahedron until - along with a big bag of potato chips and a bottle of cola - we'd consumed the entire work of genius. By the time my wife had come home, there was nothing left of it but crumbs and the powerful memory and imprint on my mind of what my small, innocent child was capable of. “How was your day today?” asked Mary, as she took a hanger from the closet and hung up her coat. “Anything different happen, or did you two just bore yourselves?” “Nuth'in much Mary,” I answered, still chewing on the last bits of wheat bread and bologna in my mouth. “Same old humdrum day. There is one thing though,” I said, looking at Ellie and then back again at my wife. “Oh, and what could that be?” asked Mary, on her way to the kitchen. “Those educational shows on t.v.... they're a lot more worthwhile then I ever realized.” “How so?” asked my wife, on her way to the bedroom. “Let's just say, they give you a lot of food for thought. Which reminds me... what's for dinner?” Tweet
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