A Magical Mixture

Tags

alchemy, Fantasy, magic, magic is real, potion, short story

The old man passed the stone bowl to me. I stared at its contents, studying the rock powder within. A pink radiance started to shimmer from the fragments, a faint light that intensified as I pondered his remarks. Was this light a sign of magic, or was it a deception designed to make me believe. I thought about all of the stories I read over the years involving knights and wizards. I always felt like I belonged in their world more than my own. Perhaps I was destined to set off on this adventure.

I shook my head, clearing my mind of that nonsense. I was running the risk of being a modern day Don Quixote. This old man was clearly delusional and now he was sucking me into his fantasy. I looked up from the bowl, ready to refuse his offer, but the look in his gray eyes told me he wasn’t making this up. As crazy as it was, I knew in that moment that I was going to answer the call of the magic.

“Very good,” he said as he took the bowl from me. Could he read my thoughts. He tossed some dried leaves in the bowl and poured in a few drops of a thick liquid, stirring them together with the powder. Turquoise vapors rose from concoction as he mixed the ingredients. I watched with anticipation, stricken with wonder at my first glimpse of magic.

When the smoke ceased he grabbed a wooden spoon and scooped up a glob from the bowl. He consumed half before passing it over to me. He nodded as I stared at the spoon. I closed my eyes and shoved it in my mouth, forcing my mind to ignore the bitter taste.

I opened my eyes, expecting something to be different, but nothing had changed. I was still in his rickety old hut. He motioned toward the window, and what stood outside erased any doubt lingering in my mind. I had witnessed magic.

*     *     *

Today’s post is a response to this week’s Trifecta prompt. We were to use the third definition of the word Wonder. This is a continuation from a post that came a few weeks ago, The Call of Magic. Be sure to check that out and stay tuned for another installment in this story.

WONDER (noun)

1

a : a cause of astonishment or admiration : marvel <it’s a wonder you weren’t killed> <the pyramid is a wonder to behold>

b : miracle

2

: the quality of exciting amazed admiration

3

a : rapt attention or astonishment at something awesomely mysterious or new to one’s experience

b : a feeling of doubt or uncertainty

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The Call of Magic

Tags

A Dark Matter, adventure, crush, magic, Master Class, revelation, Trifecta, writing prompt

The great revelations of my adult life began with the shouts of a lost soul in my neighborhood breakfast joint. At first I wrote off his proclamations as the ravings of a deranged lunatic, just like everyone else. But as time went on I couldn’t get his words out of my mind. As crazy as it was, I was starting to believe him.

When I showed up at his house a week later he showed no signs of surprise. Instead he urged me up the creaky stairs and into his rustic home. Odd artifacts cluttered shelves and covered patches of the floor, many of them looking like they belonged in the Middle Ages. Meticulously drawn maps were stacked upon a lopsided table. He gestured to a small stool in the center of the room and sat down on an antique chair that resembled a throne. I looked around without success for a free spot to set down my bag and then sat down with it in my lap.

“You want to know more, I presume,” he said after I situated myself on the hard stool. His face had a hint of a smile that erased years from his appearance.

“I didn’t believe you,” I said.

“No one ever does at first,” he replied.

“But I couldn’t drive the idea from my mind.”

He sat in silence, his gray eyes studying me. He ran a wrinkled hand through his disheveled beard and began to nod his head. “Yes, there is always one that it calls to. Wait here.” He stood up and disappeared into another room. When he returned he held a stone bowl and a pestle in his hands. He grabbed a pouch from a shelf and sat down across from me. He dumped the contents of the pouch into the bowl and began to crush the stones into a fine powder.

“Magic is real, lad. So are elves and other folk. The real question is if you’re brave enough for an adventure.”

—————————-

This marks the beginning of a story, fulfilling the writing prompt for both Trifecta and Master Class. This one has strong potential to be continued beyond this, and we’ll see if I can juggle this one in with the Monster Hunter series. I’ve already got some grand ideas for what happens next.

For the Master Class we were to use the first line from Peter Straubs’ A Dark Matter as the beginning of our post. The line was “The great revelations of my adult life began with the shouts of a lost soul in my neighborhood breakfast joint.”

For Trifecta we were to use the third definition of the word CRUSH in a post that is 33-333 words long.

CRUSH (transitive verb)

1a : to squeeze or force by pressure so as to alter or destroy structure <crush grapes>
b : to squeeze together into a mass
2   : hug, embrace
3   : to reduce to particles by pounding or grinding <crush rock>

 

Team Nine: Whispatory and Scholarly Scribe – Part 2

Tags

apprentice, magic, master, partner, short story, Trifecta, Whispatory, writing prompt

Tonight I’ll begin with an announcement: I have entered Ogre Hunt into the America’s Next Author contest. So go there and grab a copy, read it, review it, and vote for it!

This week Trifecta is having their anniversary challenge, randomly pairing us with a partner for the prompt. My partner is Jennifer from Whispatory, who completed the first portion of the challenge earlier this week. Today I will pick up where she left off and finish the story in my allotted 33-100 words.

The bold paragraph was the initial start to the story given to her. The italics are what Jennifer added to it, and then we’ll transition into the conclusion that I’m adding.

Charts and optimal dates and preferential temperatures. One line or two. As if she could summon whatever it is that makes up the human soul as easily as she could a cab on a busy New York avenue.

She can’t but her mentor can. Her lips press into a grim line, sweat pops on her forehead as she pumps harder straining her quads and calves, weaving in and out of traffic. It’s dangerous she knows, a door could open any second and send her slamming down on asphalt only to be crushed under relentless rubber wheels. But she is far less afraid of that fate than not retrieving the package her mentor sent her to collect in time.

She skids to a halt, teetering on her toes, just in time to avoid being cut off by a red convertible. She sprints down the street, worried that she might be late. She hurdles a door that opens in front of her, thinking that this would be easier if he taught her to fly.

Twelve years as his apprentice and she was still learning basics.

She rounds a corner and cuts into an alley, taking the fire escape into an abandoned apartment. She enters into the room through a broken window.

“Congratulations,” her master says, “today you become a master.”