A spell and smiles
Posted: Sun Mar 19, 2006 4:54 pm
It was one of those dark days in Paragon; cloudy skies, weatherman on the radio kept saying about ‘possibility of rain’. Daniel sat at his desk in his quad, taking notes on ‘safe flying habits’ for Flying 101. He took a large swig from the metal flask on the table, tilted his head back and sighed deeply, blowing the steam of the evaporating alcohol from his mouth like a boiling teapot. Daniel was in his usual mood; not really wanting to talk to anyone, just wanting to be alone to work, think, and enjoy himself. He looked at his reflection in the flask’s surface, smiling lightly. “Drinking is not a good way to get rid of your problems! Get over her already!” he said in a high-pitched, mocking tone. “Jaygo, you do not know the half of what you are talking about.” He said as he screwed the cap back on the flask and put it in his shirt pocket.
Daniel stood up from his homework, stretched his back, and looked out the window. The rain was coming down hard, nearly making the window rattle in anger. He admired his horns in the reflection, and took another deep sigh. “Maybe now is a good time to go back.” He said to himself. Daniel thought again of the small room where it all began. He narrowed his eyes and nodded; he would go back.
Daniel finally arrived outside an old run-down apartment complex on the north side of Kings Row. “Fifth floor, room 513,” He mumbled to himself and gently swung the door open, being careful not to break the last working hinge on it. He walked up the stairs slowly, being sure not to put his foot through the floor. Rats squeaked and scrambled through the walls as he approached. Finally, he came to the door of room 513, with the numbers hanging on to their nails for dear life. Again, he gently pushed the door open, trying to extend the hinges’ lives a bit. The room was the same as he last saw it; dark, dirty, and burnt. The wallpaper curled off the walls, turning their charred faces towards the floor in mourning. There on the floor, was Daniel’s birthmark; the rune surrounded by candles which his mother had used to bring Daniel and Franklin into this world. He knelt down, examining its circular-square design. “You couldn’t have just adopted, could you?” he whispered, shaking his head. He got up, dusted off his knee, and continued into the bedroom.
Daniel’s heart stopped; the room was a wreck. The window was smashed to pieces, with glass teardrops scattered across the floor. The makeshift dresser had been battered into chair-sized splinters, its contents like corpses on a battlefield. The bookcase, which contained all of his mother’s spellbooks, was trashed. “What the hell…?!” Daniel whispered loudly, surveying the damage. He rushed to pick up all the books of the floor, dried them, and recounted them; one was missing. “Oh no,” He said as finished counting, “Please don’t let it be that one. Please, please, please!” He began flipping through the books; nearly ripping out the pages in fear and anger. As he scanned the last page of the last book, he broke into tears; the spell of magic birth was gone. “Dammit!” he screamed, pounding his fist on the floor.
Daniel leaned back against the wall, boiling teardrops dripping down his face, and glanced at broken window. A long piece of dark red fabric hung from a shard of glass, waving to Daniel in the wind. He walked over to the window and tore it off; a large white smile nearly a foot long stretched across the fabric, sneering back at him. Daniel could almost hear it laughing in the back of head. He scowled at the fabric and his tears evaporated. “Whatever you want with that spell, I will be sure you never use it.” said Daniel as shoved the fabric into his pocket. He collected several of the spellbooks, crammed them into his book bag, and shot out the window.
(To be continued)
(Post here or send me a PM of what you think or if you want to be in this plotline. Thank you.)
Daniel stood up from his homework, stretched his back, and looked out the window. The rain was coming down hard, nearly making the window rattle in anger. He admired his horns in the reflection, and took another deep sigh. “Maybe now is a good time to go back.” He said to himself. Daniel thought again of the small room where it all began. He narrowed his eyes and nodded; he would go back.
Daniel finally arrived outside an old run-down apartment complex on the north side of Kings Row. “Fifth floor, room 513,” He mumbled to himself and gently swung the door open, being careful not to break the last working hinge on it. He walked up the stairs slowly, being sure not to put his foot through the floor. Rats squeaked and scrambled through the walls as he approached. Finally, he came to the door of room 513, with the numbers hanging on to their nails for dear life. Again, he gently pushed the door open, trying to extend the hinges’ lives a bit. The room was the same as he last saw it; dark, dirty, and burnt. The wallpaper curled off the walls, turning their charred faces towards the floor in mourning. There on the floor, was Daniel’s birthmark; the rune surrounded by candles which his mother had used to bring Daniel and Franklin into this world. He knelt down, examining its circular-square design. “You couldn’t have just adopted, could you?” he whispered, shaking his head. He got up, dusted off his knee, and continued into the bedroom.
Daniel’s heart stopped; the room was a wreck. The window was smashed to pieces, with glass teardrops scattered across the floor. The makeshift dresser had been battered into chair-sized splinters, its contents like corpses on a battlefield. The bookcase, which contained all of his mother’s spellbooks, was trashed. “What the hell…?!” Daniel whispered loudly, surveying the damage. He rushed to pick up all the books of the floor, dried them, and recounted them; one was missing. “Oh no,” He said as finished counting, “Please don’t let it be that one. Please, please, please!” He began flipping through the books; nearly ripping out the pages in fear and anger. As he scanned the last page of the last book, he broke into tears; the spell of magic birth was gone. “Dammit!” he screamed, pounding his fist on the floor.
Daniel leaned back against the wall, boiling teardrops dripping down his face, and glanced at broken window. A long piece of dark red fabric hung from a shard of glass, waving to Daniel in the wind. He walked over to the window and tore it off; a large white smile nearly a foot long stretched across the fabric, sneering back at him. Daniel could almost hear it laughing in the back of head. He scowled at the fabric and his tears evaporated. “Whatever you want with that spell, I will be sure you never use it.” said Daniel as shoved the fabric into his pocket. He collected several of the spellbooks, crammed them into his book bag, and shot out the window.
(To be continued)
(Post here or send me a PM of what you think or if you want to be in this plotline. Thank you.)