Mango (the one with tusks)

Mango. A wonderful listener. She’s often mistaken as unsociable, but really she’s just quiet. Until she grabs a clarinet. Or saxophone. She truly is the spirit of jazz. She’s great at music and archery – Mango is good at running, rounders, hockey.
The next girl was more quiet, her “tusks” swaying slightly in the gentle breeze. that’s how I first described her in My Friends and I. With her big brown eyes her hair matches perfectly; a lightish brown colour, mostly straight/wavy. With tusks.
Mango has the habit of tucking to pieces of her hair behind her ears. The curve around giving her, what all of her friends call, “tusks”.
Mangoes great to hang around, and, though she can be pessimistic, she can easily lift the mood. She’s the metaphorical knife cutting right through the tension.

My Friends And I

In the Eyes Of A Past Acquaintance: My Friends and I

I heard the gaggle of girls, before I saw them. After all, you become highly aware of new sounds when walking through the tranquil dell, where the soundtrack consists of only the chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves, the crashes of rampaging river and your own cautious footsteps.
Their laughter and giggles resonated strongly throughout the calm dell, as the six girls walked steadily down the footpath.
Th first of the six, a blonde girl with short, straight hair, was running as though she hadn’t in months, her Superdry shoes pounding against the soft soil of this well walked footpath.
The next well – too well for hiking through the mud on this dull, spring afternoon. Her half-blonde ponytail stayed in its immaculate condition as she threw back her head to laugh, at what was probably a dirty joke.
The next girl was more quiet, her “tusks” swaying slightly in the gentle breeze. She was wearing more appropriate attire; black sketchers and comfortable, well-worn jeans. She smiled happily as she looked down at her watch, then when seeing the time she beckoned for the next two girls to pick up the pace.
They did as they were told, both stepping into a puddle drenching their Doc Martins. At that they looked at each over, then simultaneously they shook their ginger heads in self pity at their own clumsiness, while at the same time messing up their hair completely.
The taller ones headphone fell out of her ear when she shook her head, and though I was stood several meters away I could hear ‘Little Maggots’ from where I was stood. The shorter one must have heard this as well because she smiled widely, showing her dimples. Around her mouth there was traces of jam and sugar – surely the remains of a donut.
Then the last girl walked up from behind them, pointing out her ginger friends dimples, laughing as the girl with the dimple quickly put her hand over her mouth as to hide the dimples. I could only see the back of her but I noticed her long, scruffy hair. When she finally turned to face me my eyes were instantly drawn to her filthy glasses, but when I looked closely, through the smudges of dirt I could see a hint of green shining through her horrific excuse for spectacles.
She soon became aware of staring at her and a hint of recognition flew, briefly, across her face before she extravagantly winked at me, opening her mouth wide and moving her head. I threw a wink back at her, along with my signature grin, and as her friends stood gawping at us in confusion we both laughed at them in pity of their unknowingness and carried on walking.

This is dedicated to my current friends and acquaintances, all the people I used to know and the people I will meet