Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Chapter 10

I waited in the line at the diner for about two and a half hours last night. When I got to the counter, I asked for chocolate cake. The waitress rolled her eyes. She handed me a slice of apple pie.

I walked mindlessly to the next spot open at the counter and sat down. I sat perfectly still and stared at the pie for an hour. I kept hearing a deep voice and a light laugh in my head. They kicked me out at midnight.

It was a cold night to walk home. I heard sirens and shouting around Watershed Heights so I walked to the play ground and sat on the only working swing. There was a single gunshot and all of the sirens and yelling stopped. I was scared so I picked up a stick. I think it was the handle broken off of an old broom. There were splinters and cracks throughout the whole four feet of cheep, stained, wood. I don't know why I picked it up. It just felt right.

The wind picked up and I began to talk back to Watershed Heights, dragging the stick behind me. I began to thing about everything. My parents, no friends, and my so called "magic" all raced through my head. I felt disconnected from the world around me. I walked, floated rather, across the street and up to the dry fountain. I stepped up onto the edge and walked around the lip. Even though the lip was cracked, uneven, and covered with slime, I had no trouble balancing. My mind didn't tell my feet where to go. They found footholds on their own and my arms swung out automatically to keep my body upright. I circled the fountain again and again, faster and faster.

As my body circled the fountain, my mind was racing through my entire life. I remembered every conversation and every day of work and every pot of chicken I cooked at that terrible Vietnamese restaurant. My right hand felt wet and I looked over my shoulder. Droplets of water were coming out the cracks in the old broom handle. Everything slowed back down to its normal speed. I suddenly was back in control of my body. My left foot slipped and I fell into the fountain. There was a splash and I knew what had happened.

Monday, May 2, 2011

Chapter 9

The power went out in the city today. Normally, I would have tried summoning light fairies to light the city. Instead, my staff is still collecting dust.

Now that I am like most other people, I went to the diner. People lined the street waiting for food. It was pitch black. Everyone was bumping into one another and tripping over their own feet. As I stood in line, I smelled a whiff of apple, cinnamon, and dough. I remember my parents laughing at the after supper while the three of us ate apple pie. I have not touched it sense.

The man in front of me turned around. He asked me why was I crying. My shock was even greater than his. I am used to people staring at me and sneaking pictures with their cell phones. I can not remember the last time a stranger was interested in me.

I explained my memories of apple pie and my parent's death to the stranger. He shrugged and said "Wow, that's rough."

The stranger began to turn away, but I blurted out, "I tried to honor their memory by practicing magic, but I have not done it lately." The stranger took a step back. He said he didn't know there were "warlocks" around Watershed Heights. I could tell he regretted saying this. I couldn't stop myself from correcting him. The general public should know that warlocks are not human. Men can be wizards and women can be witches. That is it.

He seemed to be apologising when he told me that his mother died too. I wasn't too sure. We talked about more things but I wasn't listening. I was smelling the apple pie and thinking about my staff.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Chapter 8

I got a job today. I now work in the Vietnamese restaurant across from Watershed Heights. I am in the back. I make the Mu-Shu Chicken and sometimes the beef. My manager gives me a box of half thawed chicken bits and a bottle of sauce. He comes by every couple of minutes to scoop some into a pan to serve. I am continually adding chicken and sauce to the pot from three thirty in the afternoon till closing at ten. I don't even think Mu-Shu Chicken is Vietnamese.

At least I can pay my rent now. I am not spending any money on ground Russian black rabbits. I have not gone into the city to look at cloaks or cauldrons or staffs. I have even begun to make some friends at work. Martha works beside me cooking rice and George washes dishes. We all listen the baseball games on the radio when we close each night.

Sometimes I can even see an old man through the doorway to the main room. He waved at me once when I ate a piece of chicken from the pot. I ate another one and he started to giggle and in a minute he was laughing on the floor. The manager had to through him out.

When I come home each night, I look at my staff in its case. My cloaks are all hanging in the closet. The pot where I was brewing a sleeping potion lays still and cold. Everything is just where I left it on the night of the ATM robbery. I have not had the urge to practice all week. I keep telling myself that I should go to the park to practice a spell or two, but then my watch alarm beeps telling me to go to work.

I like my work. I can cook the chicken fairly well. Most pieces come out of the pot with a brown singe and a sweet taste. The manager doesn't mind if a few are not well done. Mu-Shu Chicken is easy. Nothing has ever been easy for me.

I did not even try to wear a cloak to work.

Monday, April 25, 2011

Chapter 7

I witnessed a crime yesterday. I was trying to conjure a wind fairy in the cemetery beside the Synagoge. Two men stole the ATM machine with a hand cart. I knew that it was my time to shine. I tried every spell in the book. I started with a stunning hex and then a fainting spell. I tried everything.

I was not alone in watching the two men. A couple watched from a fourth story window in Watershed Heights. A man was walking his dog and stopped long enough to pull out his phone in order to post a new facebook status about the robbery. Another, Ceili Thompson I think, sat on a bench and dialed a number on her phone again and again.

I should have stopped this. I could have. I don't know why I couldn't do anything. I've heard stories about wizards discovering their power in times of danger. These wizards had no training at all. I have been practicing for years . Preparing my mind, body, and spirit. I've spent every last penny on wands, staffs, robes, and anything that could help. I have sacrificed friends, jobs, everything.

I just can not figure it out why I could do nothing.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Chapter 6

The streets were empty today. Everyone is at the carnival except for a few oddballs. There was a clown on a unicycle. The clown kept trying to put the woman on his shoulders and ride the unicycle but they kept falling down. They didn't seem to mind too. They just laughed and tried again.

It seems to me that I am always trying to get on the unicycle. All my life I have fallen down before I can even start. Falling down is all I have ever done with magic. My potions didn't work. My spells and hexes and charms have never done anything. I have never gotten a spark out of any of my staffs. And yet, I cannot stop trying. This is all I have ever done and all I ever care to do.

The art of Magic is not easily mastered. Only a very select few have the gift and even less have been able to truly control it. I know I can do this. It is only a matter of time before I can cast charms and spells at will.

Friday, March 11, 2011

Chapter 5

A carnival came to town today. It wasn't a very good one. Every booth seemed to be ancient and it seemed like every worker was about to get off their shift. I went there Thursday night with my usual staff and my Griffin skin robe. It's dark red and has a hood with feathers on the arms. I can go unnoticed whenever I wear it.

As I walked through the carnival, people began to talk to me. I told a man and his daughter about Morticary chants and their healing powers. Three women asked me about my "wand". I told them it was a staff and its Granite core and Ash rod. Many people don't know how well Granite can store magical energy.

I talked to people for about four and a half hours until the manager showed up. He introduced himself as Mr. Gilbert and asked me why he hadn't seen at any staff meetings. He told me I was doing a great job and I should go to in front of the Bumper Cars to entertain people when the cars break down. He was gone before I could tell him I didn't work for the carnival.