Trent Zellan
Jun 10th, 2003, 12:02:13 PM
Centuries of tradition seemed to float in the halls of the Jedi living quarters. How many stories would there have been if the walls could talk! It was a place of rest, somewhere where it was easy to meditate…quiet. But all these attributes were lost on four year old Trent Zellan. Completely lost.
“Tsew! Tsew!”
The child was alternately running and walking through the vast halls, a model ship in his hands. He waved the toy up and down, obviously imitating flying maneuvers, and every once in a while would jerk the ship and emit his version of shooting noises. It was quite the satisfying game.
Trent seemed unusually apt for finding mischief. It wasn’t intentional by any means. He was just overly curious all of the time. Part of the reason was that his mother never bothered to take the time to play with him, or talk to him, or even look to closely at him for that matter. She was always preoccupied with other things. More important things. And so the boy was forced to amuse himself every moment of his waking day.
It seemed fate that there would be a ventilator to his left, at exactly the moment when his ship needed to find escape from the pirates that were chasing it. He was short, still a toddler really, and so Trent had to stand on his tip-toes to reach one of the slits in the vent. He didn’t really mean to push his ship so far. And he didn’t mean for it to fall in. But it did.
Ka-CLUNKA! Ka-CLUNKA! CHING! CLANK!
The horrific noise startled Trent and he jerked back, shocked. Had he broken something? He hadn’t meant to!
“Oh no!”
He scanned either end of the hallway and took little relief in the fact that no one had been around to see his little ‘mistake’. But the clinking from within the vent fan was getting ominously louder.
“Oops.”
“Tsew! Tsew!”
The child was alternately running and walking through the vast halls, a model ship in his hands. He waved the toy up and down, obviously imitating flying maneuvers, and every once in a while would jerk the ship and emit his version of shooting noises. It was quite the satisfying game.
Trent seemed unusually apt for finding mischief. It wasn’t intentional by any means. He was just overly curious all of the time. Part of the reason was that his mother never bothered to take the time to play with him, or talk to him, or even look to closely at him for that matter. She was always preoccupied with other things. More important things. And so the boy was forced to amuse himself every moment of his waking day.
It seemed fate that there would be a ventilator to his left, at exactly the moment when his ship needed to find escape from the pirates that were chasing it. He was short, still a toddler really, and so Trent had to stand on his tip-toes to reach one of the slits in the vent. He didn’t really mean to push his ship so far. And he didn’t mean for it to fall in. But it did.
Ka-CLUNKA! Ka-CLUNKA! CHING! CLANK!
The horrific noise startled Trent and he jerked back, shocked. Had he broken something? He hadn’t meant to!
“Oh no!”
He scanned either end of the hallway and took little relief in the fact that no one had been around to see his little ‘mistake’. But the clinking from within the vent fan was getting ominously louder.
“Oops.”