Sometimes They Do Not Make It

The school year was 75% complete. Young Steven and his brother Davie, two years older than him, were helping their mother unpack boxes after school. The three of them moved into their new apartment, recently, due to an explosion Davie accidentally caused in their old apartment. The boys and their mom were lucky to live through the experience unharmed.

“You guys are driving me crazy,” said their mother. “How?” asked Davie, “We are just doing what you told us.” “Well, for now, you guys can go outside and play. Be back before dark, and I’ll have dinner ready.” The boys did not attest to this and immediately made it to the door, closing it behind them politely, to hike three stories down.

“We don’t have a front yard; we have a sidewalk with a street,” observed Steven. “Let’s check out what’s behind back,” said Davie, “We may have the time to do some exploring.” Davie was in the 9th grade, Steven in the 7th. They ran around to behind the apartment building. It was a massive structure with twenty-one apartments. Each with four rooms, 2.5-baths, and made with light pink bricks. There was a small field and a wooded area nearby, also.

The boys marched right into the woods, the thin shade trees, sparse. After some time they found some railway tracks and stopped to rest. “I found an old rusty spike!” said Steven. “Just leave it alone,” said Davie, “There are probably a ton of them around here.” The two boys sat on a big square concrete block about twelve yards away from the tracks, wondering how often the train comes.

There was a small creek, just wide enough to scale, on the other side of the tracks. The creek ran parallel to the tracks. More woods and an overgrown field could be seen off to the left. Time slipped away gently. The boys talked about girls and school, tossing small pebbles into the creek across from the tracks. One small tossed pebble could make ‘circle ripples,’ which reflected overhung trees in an amazing way.

Little Davie was a child prodigy, just as Steven. Davie still had the ‘brains;’ however, and Steven was always aware of his older brother’s natural instincts. “It is going to get dark any minute,” said Davie, “We should go back.” As the two boys stood, they heard the distant sounds of a train coming. “A train!” exclaimed Steven, and as they looked down the tracks, they saw a large train was really on its way.

They waited until the engine passed them and watched its cars whiz by, one by one. “How fast do you think the train is going?” yelled Steven. “Probably about 30 mph,” replied Davie, “Let’s go.” They left the roaring train to make it back home before dark. The woods appeared simple enough, so their chances of getting lost were slim. It did not take them to long – they did not get lost. The two smelly lads cleaned up for dinner; ate Spaghetti; spoke politely with their mother; and bathed and went off to bed.

Saturday finally came around and the boys woke up before dawn to watch cartoons. Their mother woke up early and cooked a nice breakfast including pancakes, sausage, and milk. “I am going to the craft store today for some fabric and things,” said their mother, “I want you guys to be on your best behavior, and you cannot leave this apartment until your chores are done.” “We did extra chores yesterday,” said Davie, quietly, hoping they did not forget any common responsibilities. Steven looked to the ground, for this could mean more chores and less cartoons. Or worse. “Can we go to the craft store with you?” asked Davie. “You two had better not embarrass me,” said their mother. Excited, the two brothers got ready to go to the craft store.

Curiosity flowed through the two boys like seasonal joy. This part of town was an intriguing new world to them, even though the craft store, much larger than most average sized hardware stores, was only six blocks away. Once in the store, the brothers did what they could to stay out of trouble. Walking down every aisle, nothing seemed to be too much of a surprise. The artist’s aisle was super awesome, and Davie saw many things he did not know much about. Then, however, the boys found the model car aisle.

As amazing as it was, the model car boxes did not even compare to what they found toward the end of the aisle. The hobby-rocket section. Amazed, the two boys inspected every rocket, about forty in number. The largest rockets were huge, five-foot tall models that took “D” cell engines. Stickers on rockets requiring a “C” engine or larger stated, “Must be 18 or Older to Purchase.”

Davie noticed an interesting rocket, while Steven proceeded to pretend-launch a small rocket by hand into the air. He decided not throw it; however, and put it back quickly, as an older woman looked over her glasses from over forty feet away.

“This one comes with a deploying parachute,” said Davie. “Wow,” said Steven, “What is the remote control for?” Davie read the package and said, “This rocket has ‘Track Finder’ technology. The remote helps you find the small plastic astronaut and his parachute, once he explodes into the air far above ground level. The small figurine has a locator chip with a watch battery.” “Wow,” said Steven, “We’ll have to ask mom for it.”

They went and found their mother, who was making her fabric purchase before checking out a few other items. She went with the boys to see the hobby-rocket section. “I could not get you one of these today if I wanted to,” she said, “Unless you want this small one.” “We want the one with the track finder,” said Steven. “‘C’ cell engine,” said Davie, “It must be smaller than the ‘D’ cells.” “It’s marked 25% off,” said Steven, “$29.99 instead of the normal price of forty dollars.” “That’s another 25% off if the two of you can come up with $20,” said their mother. “Is that a promise?” asked Davie. “Sure,” she said. “Is that a double promise?” asked Steven, and asked, “How can we get the money?” “That is a double promise,” said their mother, “Maybe you can do some cleaning for the neighbors or a few things for allowance money.”

They made their way to the front of the store. Their mother finished making her purchases, and the boys did not mind not getting no thing whatsoever – they had goals, now. The following week the boys went out to the tracks to see if the train passed by everyday just before dark. It did.

“How are we going to come up with the money for that rocket?” asked Steven. “I don’t know,” said Davie, “All I have is the dime in my pocket. I’ll have to think of something.” “I wonder if the train would flatten the dime into a smooth silver streak on the rail?” asked Steven. “No,” said Davie, “The train will flatten the coin into an oval like a potato chip. I saw it in a Western.” “Can we try it?” asked Steven. “It’s no way to save money for a rocket,” said Davie, but he handed Steven the dime as they could see the train coming. Steven placed the dime heads up on the railroad track – the vibrations knocked it off twice. “Hurry,” said Davie, “The train is coming fast.

Steven placed the dime on the track one last time and it seemed to stay centered, tales up. He backed away in plenty of time to see the engine and 20 some-odd cars pass by – the boys even saw the caboose this time. They ran back up to the tracks, and the dime was gone. “Sheeze,” said Steven. He and Davie looked around for the dime; Davie found it a ways up the tracks. “Wow,” said Steven, “It does look like a potato chip!” “You can keep it,” said Davie. “Are you sure?” asked Steven. “Yeah,” said Davie, “You’re my little bro. Let’s go. It’s already getting dark.”

The two jogged back home, ate, bathed, said their prayers with their mother, and went off to bed. The next day Steven was in the lunch line, inspecting his amazing coin. “What’s that?” asked one of his student friends. “It’s a potato-chip dime,” said Steven. “What’s it worth?” asked another boy. “I don’t know,” said Steven, “Its my lucky potato chip coin.” “Can I see it?” said a girl. “Sure,” said Steven, and politely handed it to her. Amazed, the children studied the coin. “I’ll give you my lunch money for it,” said one of the boys, “Two dollars.” Steven would never take the offer, as the coin meant something to him, but he thought about the rocket. “Deal,” said Steven, and the boy handed him the two dollars for the potato chip dime. The girl took one last look at the coin and handed it to its purchaser.

Steven was now four dollars up and still about forty students back in the line from the cafeteria workers. As his new sidekick went to sit and inspect the coin incognito with some people already eating, Steven followed behind. “I’ll keep this four dollars,” thought Steven, “And I’ll get some more dimes.”

The idea was a fantastic one, indeed. Steven and his brother took the four dollars down the street that afternoon to the gas station. The teller would not change out their money for forty dimes, because they would need to make a purchase, first. “What if we let you keep two of the dimes?” asked Davie, and Steven laughed a little. He just could not guess the outcome of this proposition. “I’ll take it as a transaction,” said the old woman, playing along, “For these two dark green jawbreakers.” The boys were happy with the transaction and made it back home before dark, green tongued.

Their mother asked about their green tongues, and Davie said they got them from the gas station’s jawbreakers. With no further questions, the boys were in the clear. The three ate, cleaned, and went off to bed.

The following day the boys finished their homework. It was time for external activities. Both carrying a pocket full of dimes, they jogged all the way to the tracks to beat the train. The boys lined up all thirty eight dimes about two feet apart, eighteen on each rail. The train finally came along, and the boys gathered all but one of the dimes. It was getting dark, fast, and thirty-seven would have to do. On a mission, they returned home in an efficient manner.

Over the next few weeks, both of the boys sold the potato chip dimes to other students, making sure they (the other students) would keep it a secret so that the lunch money went unmentioned. Combined, they sold twenty-nine coins in ten days, and both brothers decided to keep four of the valuable potato-chip dimes. “How much does that add up to?” asked Steven, knowing Davie had already done the math. “$58,” said Davie, “Now all we have to do is give mom a story about how we got the money.” “That old man who sits by the gas station in front of the small convenience store, what if he bought us the rocket?” “Works for me,” said Davie, “We can split the change and speak with the old man when we see him.” They made it back as darkness settled in.

The next day, they finished their homework and went to the craft store and bought the rocket. Davie remembered the age requirement and kept quite; the teller was probably in high school; and she said nothing of the restriction label. The total was $32.24, so the boys had $25.76, or $12.88 a piece for piggy-bank savings. Davie let Steven carry the rocket home in a large sack. Their mother, astonished.

“And just how did you two manage that?” she asked. Davie said, “The old man by the store heard us talking about how we wanted the rocket so bad, and we could not figure out how to come up with the money. He did not have anyone in mind we could do chores for, but he bought it for us saying he would keep us in mind.” Their mother’s eyes immediately met with Steven‘s, whose face went pale. “That’s true,” he said. “Well that sure was nice of that man,” said their mom. They ate, cleaned, and went off to bed.

The next day was a Friday, so the boys would have to wait until the following day to try out the rocket. This did not stop Davie’s eagerness to read and learn, though. Upon finishing their homework, Davie and Steven opened the rocket box, keeping it intact, and Davie read the instructions. Steven, while playing with the little astronaut man, landed him on Davie‘s shoulder saying, “I have discovered the moon and have not a flag.” Davie grinned and continued to read.

The two eventually checked the contents of the box and even assembled most of the rocket. It was 2.5 feet tall and a little over an inch in diameter. It came with a firing fuse connected to a twelve-foot long wire. The wire connected to a push-button box. The rocket also came with its own stand and, of course, the remote control device. The device showed distance in tenths and hundredths of a mile and had a radar screen. Davie was concerned that batteries were not included. They were, yet they appeared to be some cheap ones.

The boys ate, cleaned, and went off to bed, as always, reading some before bedtime. Davie liked C. S. S. Lewis and Isaac Asimov; Steven liked monster stories; and their mother, Danielle Steel. Steven asked his mother why she preferred Danielle Steel as opposed to Nora Roberts one time, and he received no response. “Probably the writing style or plot development,” said Davie, “The two authors really are different in comparison.”

It was Saturday morning, and the boys were up with their rocket before dawn. “Where are we going to launch it?” asked Steven, “A football field?” “No,” said Davie, “We’ll take it to the tracks. With any luck, the wind will be blowing towards the field on the other side of the creek, left of the ‘Other-Side Woods.'” “Those woods are creepy,” said Steven. “They are more dense,” said Davie, “That is why. Those shadows are darker because the trees block out most of the sunlight, especially as dusk nears. We’ll have to take the rocket in sections to the tracks in the box, and reassemble it once we are in the field with the stand.”

“Not yet you won’t,” their mother said, as she walked into the kitchen, “I want these dishes done and the carpet vacuumed before you two go anywhere today, and I’ll make us some breakfast.” Their mother did well. She was a secretary for a law firm downtown. The two boys did their chores and cleaned their rooms in order to leave. She fed them a bologna sandwich and a coke, and they assembled most of the rocket by its instructions. Then, after making sure they could go outside, they began a journey to the tracks.

They made it there early in the afternoon. “The wind just so happens to be blowing in opposite direction of the Other-Side Woods,” said Davie, “We are in luck. Not a cloud in the sky.” The boys crossed the tracks, skillfully scaled the stream, and walked for a while through the field. They found a decent clearing in the wild grass and stopped. They got the rocket together as well as its stand, and Davie handed Steven the ignition button. Stupefied, Steven asked, “I just push the button?” “No,” said Davie, securing the rocket’s fuse wire in its engine before backing up a few steps, “I’ll count down from five to monitor the atmosphere. When I say ‘One, go,‘ then press the button.” “Okay,” said Steven, and he held his right index finger over the button watching the amazing rocket with a great deal of attention.

Davie licked his finger; held it in the air; and said, “Five,” as he felt the small breeze. Steven admired the silver flame decals on the rocket along with its shining gloss-black cover paint. The rocket also had four small fins glued to its mid-section, and four larger fins glued perfectly to its lower end. “Four,” said Davie, cautiously awaiting the breeze to die a little, seeing nothing much about the peaceful field but a bird or two flying around chasing gnats, a ways away. Steven beheld the magnificent rocket, just waiting to press the button. “Three. Two.” There was no reason to wait. “One…” said Davie, “Go!”

Steven pressed the button and the fuse in the engine of the rocket ignited. The engine’s powder began to combust, immediately, and the rocket burned an orange and purple flame to the ground, shooting up into the air, while leaving a white, streaming cloud of smoke beneath its path of travel. “Wow!” exclaimed Steven, backing up a few steps to see it decrease in size, as it climbed in altitude. “Will we see it explode the parachute?” asked Steven. “I think so,” said Davie, all eyes on the rocket, and so it did.

The children saw the rocket burst far above them, yet they could not see the parachuting astronaut figurine for a moment. Then, they thought they could see it for a second, floating away. His (the figurine’s) locator chip activated and working properly, Davie‘s remote locator with radar display functioned properly, too. The two children walked further into the field to find the rocket. They saw it fall about eighty yards away from where they launched it.

They made it to the vicinity of the fallen rocket and Steven found it. “How far away is the astronaut?” asked Steven. Davie held his radar box in his right hand and pointed off to the left with his left hand, in about a 280˚ angle. “By the looks of this radar, he is 2.5 miles in that direction and may still be falling or in a tree,” said Davie. As he pointed into the far distance, they could see far down the tracks. The train was coming. “Let’s go back,” said Davie, “We’ll have to go find the astronaut tomorrow.” Steven handed Davie the rocket; they jogged back to the stand and got it; and ran to the tracks and crossed back over, safely. The train was still coming, so they put the rocket back in the box as they awaited its passing.

“Cannot we watch the train pass by?” asked Steven, “I want to count the cars.” It was starting to get dark, yet Davie said, “Okay.” The train blew its deep-sounding horn, and the boys counted exactly twenty-two cars, including the enormous front engine, twenty boxcars, and its caboose, from over twelve feet from the tracks. The cabooses were always highly similar, yet not the same caboose every time. Steven volunteered to carry the box, and they made their way back.

Upon entering the woods, the sun had nearly fallen completely. Though remnants of sunlight were still aglow, nighttime shadows were among the trees. “Let’s pick it up,” said Davie, and the boys steadied their jog. Halfway through the woods, the two boys were making good time. So long as it was not pitch black outside, their mother would not be too disappointed.

Suddenly, Davie grabbed Steven bringing them both to a near halt. He instinctively put his hand over Steven’s mouth and pointed to about thirty yards in front of them, in about a 25˚ angle. Steven could not see him at first, then flushed pale. “Is that a ghost?” whispered Steven. “I am not sure,” said Davie, “We could just jog by him; however, I think he’s watching us.” “We are in the middle of the woods,” said Steven. “We’ll just walk by him and leave him be,” said Davie, thinking it was about the best they could do.

“No need to walk by me,” said the figure, standing right before them, suddenly. The man’s presence nearly scared Davie, totally, yet he kept his bravery to protect his brother. “Who are you?” asked Steven, courageously, sensing the figure may not be of harm to them. “I am Death,” said the tall, handsome man. The man gleamed in the shadows of dusk. A pastel and purple and white gleam, much like an angel. “We must be getting back, kind sir,” said Davie. “Oh sure,” said Death, “I know your mother is waiting. There is something you may want to know, though.” “Which is?” asked Steven. “There is a homeless man down by the tracks, about twenty feet from the other side of where you guys crossed over before shooting off your awesome rocket. He has only moments to live. That is why I am here.” “What can we do?” asked Davie. “If you manage to get a glass of water to him before he passes, he may be able to make it.”

The three ran to the apartment complex and Death waited outside. Steven brought the box to his room, and Davie hurried to get a glass of water while their mother was taking a bath. The two left and met up with Death. They jogged all the way back to the tracks by moonlight and found the dying man as he lay a ways away from the tracks on his back. Davie checked his pulse while Steven tried to get the man to drink some water. The man had a pulse, yet Steven had to open his mouth gently to pour in some water.

The plan did not go so well. The man’s eyes closed; he breathed a slight breath; though the man swallowed no water. Steven gently closed the man’s mouth. The man died. Davie and Steven backed away from the corpse as the old man’s flesh flushed pale. The man’s spirit rose from his body, eyes still closed, and he as he slightly opened his eyes, beheld the presence of Death. At first his draw began to drop; however, the old man figured out upon whom he was gazing. Death held out his hand, and the homeless man took his hand.

The boys watched as Death and the ghost of a homeless man walked hand in hand down the railroad tracks, towards a fully-waxed, pale, lime-white moon. Steven wondered why they were not able to save the old man and wished the man had swallowed the water. Death turned and spoke over his shoulder, “At least you tried, Steven,” and the two men carried on. There appeared to be a form of a doorway a long ways down the tracks. “Let’s go,” said Davie. “What about the body?” asked Steven. “We’ll tell mom he’s here,” said Davie, and the two made their way back into the dark woods.

Upon entering the apartment their mother was in the kitchen organizing things. Steven looked to Davie who indicated approval of speech. “Mom,” said Steven, before she could ask them anything, “We found a dead man down by the train tracks.” Their mother called the authorities. The authorities found the man and asked the children a few questions, which Davie answered with grace. The man received a proper burial, was in the obituaries of the town paper.

The boys waited about a week before they went back to the tracks to find their astronaut figurine. It took them some time and hiking to get to it; however, with a deal of effort and a smidgen of luck, Davie was able to locate the little man and his parachute in a tree. They climbed up into the tree, acquired the figurine; and brought it back home, all before dark. The, though somber, still, ate, cleaned, and read for a while before turning in.

Brief Afterward

The story above was inspired from the first part of Stephen King’s book, “On Writing”. If he reads this story, I hope he enjoys it, as I could not resist writing out this idea. I finished reading his book and gave it a review, which can be found on jcm3blog I found his book to be a suitable collection of prose. I would have waited to write this story upon my completion of the book, however the story came to me and I just did not want to put it off or forget it, lest it were to never exist. We all know of those thousands of ideas we have that may never make it to paper; I usually write the best ones of my mind as outlines in a notebook. Learn more about Stephen King on stephenking.com (which the diamond above links to) or by clicking on the double-diamonds below for his page on wikipedia. I enjoyed this story and hope all who read it do, too. Indeed, “Long live the King.” 🙂

Her Majesty’s Dragons

Young Lilia held well her mother’s hand as they briskly walked down a sidewalk. The streets of the city were commonly busy with late afternoon traffic; her mother was in a hurry to get to the corner to call a cab, about half a block away. Lilia could keep up with her mother’s stride, yet it certainly took effort for even an energetic seven-year-old.

Looking to her left, Lilia noticed a small pet store with an adorable chocolate lab puppy in the window. Said Lilia, “Mommy!”

“Yes, dear?”

“I want that puppy.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I will explain in a minute.”

They were both short on breath due to their hurry and made it to the corner moments before four pm, where a few taxi cabs showed up before the turn of the hour, usually. As expected, four yellow taxis pulled up to the curb. Lilia and her mother, Maybell, easily waved to the first one and were able to get into the vehicle.

“Why cannot I have a puppy dog?” asked Lilia, a prodigy. Maybell knew full well of, well mostly of, Lilia’s level of intelligence. The caring mother took a deep breath and exhaled and mentioned to the driver, calmly, their address. Lilia and her father and mother lived about halfway across town in a nice townhouse, stacked in a row with seven more, like a mixture of apartments and houses. Their backyard, which resembled a nice park with ponds and sidewalks, was their neighbors’, too, and their front yard consisted of a wide sidewalk and the street.

“Your father is helping pay bills as a janitor for the university, while he continues his studies. Even though I graduated with my college degree last year, I have only been able to substitute teach during this time while I look for a fulltime teaching position, as you know. The rules where we live require a pet fee for any pet, which amounts to a seventh of what your father and I are barely able to come up with every four weeks, for now. A pet is a large responsibility, even if I think of you as responsible for your age. The money is the main factor; I won’t mind if you discuss this issue with your father. Your birthday is in about six months, we may reconsider, then.”

“I have twelve dollars in allowance money; he cost four.”

“His food would cost; there is the pet fee. It was not easy for me to tell you ‘No’ on this one; it is the best decision, for now.”

The taxi driver was attentive. He listened, stayed silent. About four turns of eight had passed – he was an excellent, caring driver. Lilia was deep in thought, for two turns. A very small part of her mother feared her. Though tiny, it was there. After thinking of how adorable the little puppy was, Lilia broke the silence with a surprising statement.

“I want a pet dragon.”

At this, the driver politely chuckled.

“Dragons, other than the small biological lizards on television, are not real, dear. What even gave you that idea?”

“One of dad’s books that says ‘Tor Books’ on it.”

“You read one of your father’s books?”

“I should have asked, my apologies. I have only been reading about ten pages a night, and I always put it back.”

“You should be more honest.”

“I promise I will. I read one of his grammar books, cover to cover.”

“You better not let your reading interfere with your homework.”

“It doesn’t.”

The taxi pulled up into the front of the nice townhouse, and Maybell paid the fare and included an appropriate tip, saying thank you. Said Lilia, “Thank you, sir.” The driver said, “No problem, thank you,” and he almost winked to Lilia, yet somehow resisted.

Lilia and her mom made it inside safely with their groceries and purchases and tidied up before Lilia’s dad, Lucas, came home from the university. He came in and they settled down for a hamburger steak with brown gravy, a salad, and a side of scalloped potatoes with garlic butter and cheddar cheese. Conversation over dinner involved parental occupations and Lilia’s pet question and her reading.

“Of course, I do not mind your reading through my books,” said Lucas, “And we all know your schoolwork comes first.” “They won’t even let me into the accelerated class.” “Do well and things may change for you,” said Lucas, “First grade is a long way away from high school and college, and we do not intend to over pressure your chances, career wise. You have a chance to be anything you put your mind to.” “Thank you, daddy.”

They said their prayers and turned in as usual. Lilia was afforded the benefit of keeping whatever book she was reading in her room, so long as she asked. During her prayers that night, Lilia asked the Lord to bless all those she knew, thanked Him for all the blessings she could consider, including her loving parents, and asked Him to, at least, consider her having a magical pet dragon. She thought He heard her, which is why she always prayed with unquestioned faith and honesty. Lilia slept soundly.

The next morning dawned a Friday, and the school day flew by for Lilia. She thought all day about dragons and magical fantastic lands and made sure to keep her mind on her schoolwork, mostly. Towards the end of the day, she decided to attempt a visit to the hobby store a few blocks away from home.

That evening, before dusk, Lilia asked her mom if they could go to the hobby store in the morning, promising to perform extra chores void of allowance payment. Maybell said they could go in the afternoon, contingent upon Lilia’s completion of said ideas. Lilia had them done by noon and her mother gave her a bologna-lettuce-tomato-and-cheese sandwich with a sprite for jobs well done. Lucas was at the university completing a week’s worth of study, and the two relaxed, showered and changed, and made their way to the hobby store.

Said Lilia upon entering, “Hello, Mr. Pumpernickel.” “Well, hello, Lilia and Maybell,” said the wise man with a cautious grin, “What a pleasure it is to see you, today. Are you here for something specific?” “Just browsing,” said Lilia. “Well feel free to take a look around, just ask me if you have any questions.” “Thank you, kind sir,” said Maybell, and she shopped around as Lilia darted to the shadows of the back of the store.

Lilia knew just about everything, item-wise, in the store; she had been there a few times with Lucas to scope out small model kits for classic wooden car models. Going isle to isle, Lilia considered everything she could. She made it to the front door and thought about all she had seen. Then Lilia returned to a near central part of the store. Gazing upon the clay-making section, she considered the various items.

“Surely I am not intruding,” said Mr. Pumpernickel, as he towered behind the young girl. “Oh no, sir,” said Lilia, “Not at all. I am just having a bit of a trouble adding up the total cost of what I think I want for a project.”

“Which is?”

“Three of these clay blocks, three of the glazes, and the number five carving tool.”

“That totals eleven dollars before tax.”

“Which is my problem, I only have twelve and I also need three pairs of those tiny opal marbles from the other isle, as well as some of the silver glaze.”

“Hmm,” thought Mr. Pumpernickel, as Maybell approached them. 

“How much is the silver glaze?” asked Maybell, “This kind of clay can be baked in a normal oven?” “Yes, and it comes out looking like ceramic,” said Mr. Pumpernickel, “The silver glaze is two dollars, and I can throw in the small marbles as complementary.” “You will agree to a few extra chores and to be safe with the oven and clean it before and after you use it?” she asked Lilia. “No problem,” said Lilia, “I will even be safe with the cleaner.” “We’ll take it, and for your kindness I will happily afford one of your ‘Pumpernickel’s Hobby Store’ xxl sweatshirts.” “Done deal,” said Mr. Pumpernickel with a joyful smile, and made his way to the cash register. Lilia selected the items she mentioned, as Maybell removed a sweatshirt from its stand. Then, they made their way to the register, too.

“I am happy, again, to see you guys,” said Mr. Pumpernickel, as he accepted their money and packaged their purchases.

“Did you ever make any dolls with the sewing kit?” he asked Maybell. “No, sir,” she said; “I still have the material and tools, though, and plan on sewing together some small poppets on a rainy day.”

“You will let me see these items when you to have them complete?”

“Without question,” they both said.

The three said their tentative goodbyes, and the two departed. The walk home was only a few blocks, and Maybell and Lilia held hands until they were safely inside, discussing occupations and school. That evening they ate well with Lucas and the three said their prayers and went off to bed.

The next day was Sunday, and, of course, the family of three attended a Sunday morning service. That afternoon, after a large lunch, Lilia’s parents were exhausted from a stressful week and took a lengthy nap, and Lilia completed most of her studies for the coming week that were possible. Always good to stay ahead, she thought.

That Sunday evening Lilia cleaned and showered and went to bed around six pm after saying her prayers. Her parents watched the evening news and turned in, too. Lilia awoke around eleven pm and noticed she had forgotten to bring one of her father’s books back to his study. Not a big deal, yet she would have to wait until morning to return it.

She read a few pages and enjoyed every sentence; it was about dragons within a magical kingdom full of many people and governed by a monarchical structure, titled, “A Kingdom and its Dragons”, by Tor Publishing and a pair of accomplished fantasy fiction authors. Her plan was to carve out three small dragons from her clay and bake them with the tiny marbles and their glazes.

She understood her parents’ thoughts on owning a pet; it was not good timing, for one. Yet she could have her dragons, thank heavens, and she planned to bless them with prayer. She made a few sketches of dragons, said a few prayers, and turned in a second time. In the morning, she awoke and remembered to bring the paperback tome back to the study, first thing. Then, she remembered that it was no longer necessary to return the book, for now.

It was early on a Monday, and Lucas happened to see Lilia going to the study. “I just wanted to see a few of the titles, even though I am sure it will take me weeks to read the book in my room,” said Lilia. “No problem, sweetheart,” said Lucas, “Again, you can keep it until you are done, so long as you do not compromise your ongoing straight ‘A’ record.” “Thank you,” she said, “I always do what I can to keep my ‘A’s,” smiling. Lucas smiled proudly upon his daughter and got ready to leave for the university.

Lilia did well in school that week, limiting herself to seven pages of her borrowed dragon book an evening and keeping up with her schoolwork. She was patient and carved a few shavings off her three blocks of clay, every night. The small family always said their prayers before slumber.

About three weeks later, Lilia’s teacher asked to speak with her after class. Thought her, this could mean trouble. “Lilia,” said Ms. Paladin, “I’ve noticed you usually finish your math quizzes before the rest of the class, and you usually add a few extra ‘made up’ problems and solutions on the side to prove your work.” Thinking, Lilia said, “It isn’t algebra, I just like to re-hash the simple problems, sometimes.” “That’s okay,” said Ms. Paladin. She was a wise woman, in her retired years, yet still looked young and strikingly cool (even ‘robust’ according to select third graders, even with silver-white hair).

“With your permission, I think it may be a good idea to spend your math hour with the second graders, maybe even third or fourth. The simplest addition-subtraction-multiplication-division we even touch on must be boring you.”

“Only sometimes. I think the more complicated stuff would be interesting. So long as I can come back to the basics if I am ‘overwhelmed.’”

“We’ll have a meeting with your parents and the principal and a few teachers on Friday afternoon?”

The word “principal” felt like a shadowed cold shower to her, even if it was okay that she loved math almost as much as English and dragons. No use in being lackadaisical, she thought, I will become a wise leader, one day.

Said Lilia “Thank you for this opportunity and I look forward to it.”

“Me too,” said Ms. Paladin with a grin, hiding some unknown fear behind what she deemed her best good intentions to be.

The meeting took place and Lucas and Maybell were proud of their daughter. She did well in her math studies that year and planned to take fifth grade math in the second grade. She also retained her other straight A’s, yet most of our story happens within her first-grade year. Before she turned eight.

During the Saturday afternoon after the Friday afternoon meeting with ‘authoritative faculty,’ Lilia completed the carving of her three dragons. Her dad had some fine grit sandpaper and she asked and received, and she was able to sand them, carefully, smooth. She was impressed with her work, so far.

The three dragons resembled each other, closely. They had wings, arms, and legs. Evident teeth and even curled claws. Even gentle grins and ears and each a long singular-like dominant horn with a small, more cute and curved, frontal miniature horn. Two horns a piece, and small scales, too. Lilia mixed the glazes very carefully to keep her original intentions in mind.

The first was near-white and she planned to name him Pearl. She had white, burgundy, and near-dark sea-blue glazes, along with a smaller amount of the silver glaze. She mixed the glazes to coat the dragons before baking them. All three purple, Pearl was of near white, yet pastel and pale in hue, and still glimmered with a faint, velvety glow of lavender. She named the second and third dragon Blizmas and Azul, their being purple. Blizmas was a near burgundy and still purple, and Azul was mostly a deep, shining blue with dark purple ‘tones.’

Lilia let the ceramic-like glaze dry, mostly, and installed their eyes and painted their claws and horns with silver – even the top points of their wings. She let the silver glaze dry for a while, too, whilst reading of enchanting dragons attempting to solve the confusion of a village of people during a winter rainstorm.

Then, she napped.

Upon waking, Lilia asked Lucas and Maybell for permission to utilize the oven. “I promise to give it a good preliminary cleaning and to clean it again when I am done,” she explained, and her parents decided to take a nap after giving her the okay. A surprise to her it was, even if they trusted her skills and often enjoyed her perfectly baked biscuits.

Lilia took extra care with the oven. She cleaned it well and let it pre-heat to 250˚f. She oiled some foil with vegetable oil and cautiously ‘re-perused’ the baking instructions for the clay. Following the instructions, she let the glazed clay bake for forty minutes, turned off the heat, and let her items cool in the oven, with the door ajar, for thirty minutes. Maybell and Lucas awoke as she was removing the three newly crafted dragons from the oven, and the three were impressed, indeed.

Lilia’s dragons glowed with a magical glossy hue within the shadows of their small half-kitchen, and their glossy finish reflected light when in a brighter environment. She carefully placed them on her windowsill, peacefully got on her knees, and prayed for them – that if they were to magically find life, that they would be intelligent, caring, discerning.

She read a few pages of her book and turned in, looking forward to seeing friends and loved ones in the morning.

Lilia continued to do well in school, never taking her studies for granted. She said her prayers before bedtime, continued to enjoy her book on dragons, and was surprised that she had read 250 pages of 750, already. She kept a small microfiber cloth for polishing her dragons; Mr. Pumpernickel was right, they really looked like ceramic, like expensive dining plates, especially to her.

One evening, she was dreaming, deep into the middle of a Wednesday night. She was walking along a path in an enchanted forest during the afternoon and realized, she was dreaming. She felt as though something was near her. Nothing dangerous, just ‘existing.’ She realized she was dreaming and twitched her body just enough to awake from her dream. Looking up to her windowsill, she saw Pearl, Blizmas, and Azul.

Her pets, she gazed upon them with caution.

I must still be dreaming.

She breathed deeply and exhaled and thought for a moment.

She noticed they appeared to be standing in attention, like baby soldiers trying to remain still.

Are you guys alive?

Azul, Pearl, and Blizmas slowly nodded in affirmation, and she was amazed. She would learn quickly that the three of them were magical, each with differing personalities and traits. Azul welded the most magical ability, accounting for about eighty percent of their collective powers and abilities. Pearl was the decision maker, efficient the most with problem solving and speech, and Blizmas was the most creative, with a sense of humor and the ability to analyze situations with abstract thought. A patient kind of possession of his, he was commonly cautious with his advice and analysis.

‘We’ve been awake for about an hour,’ thought Pearl. Lilia could understand them plain as day, and they, her. She looked up to the wall opposite of them to see they were focused on her ‘wallclock.’ It faintly glowed for most of the night, was nearly dim by six am, and began to re-charge its numbers and hands with the morning sun, each dawn.

We have information for you. (Pearl)

You guys can relax, you know. I am amazed that you are alive.

Lilia was impressed, indeed, and wondered of the ‘entailations’ of their newly born friendship. The three dragons relaxed and walked a few steps toward Lilia’s pillow and sat on the sill.

Can you fly?

I am game! (Blizmas)

And he got to his feet, bent is knees, jumped considered the area of the room, and lept. He had to flap vigorously to keep from hitting the floor yet was able to work his way into a kind of hummingbird glide about a foot from disaster. He flew around Lilia’s bedroom carefully avoiding various shelves and dolls and, the ceiling fan. He triumphantly made it back to the windowsill and perched in adrenaline filled exhaustion and excitement. Pearl and Azul were impressed, and Lilia was amazed. She carefully and politely and discretely and gently pinched her left forearm to make sure she was not dreaming, and Lilia gleamed at her companions in humble astonishment.

That was some flight.

Beginner’s luck. (Blizmas) You guys going to give it a try?

I am safest, here, for now. (Pearl)

Mind if I show off? (Azul)

He was analyzing the top of the wallclock.

By all means. (Blizmas, Pearl, and Lilia)

Azul lifted his left wing, then his right, and then quickly swung his right wing in front of him whilst pulling his left wing close to his body, spinning 180˚, quickly, only to seemingly vanish, and he reappeared on top of the wallclock within the same instant. Unsure of his balance or weight, he leisurely took a step into the air, glided down into the middle of the room, and in an instant re-appeared in a crouched position on the sill.

Amazing. (Lilia)

Impressive. (Blizmas)

I think I will stay here, for now. (Pearl)

I am happy to meet you and will love you always. You said you have information? (Lilia)

(Pearl) We do. Many things are up to you; there are many possibilities; and they come with only a few cautions. We can be alive between two and six, upon your discretion, and find it best to remain ‘ceramic’ for all other parts of the day, even if we can partially awake during other times. Only partially. We know a great many things of magic and many realms, and we know you brought us to life. We are yours, gladly, and we hope the best for you.


Lilia remained speechless, wondering if they needed food or water.

(Pearl) No. We can eat in other worlds yet are magic in those realms and don’t get hungry or sleepy. We exist in ceramic form, here, and breathe, and can exhale blue flames.

[The three each tilted their head up a little and breathed small blue flames from their nostrils – Lilia giggled a little, nearly afraid of her newfound responsibility.]

(Pearl) There is a special realm we can bring you to. It is your realm. A Kingdom. Anything you can think of can happen or exist there, from terrain to entities; its basic structure begins with a large mountain and surrounding areas. On the North side of the mountain there is a large plateau. We can go there if you like, and we understand if you choose to be patient with your decisions. For, you are the powerful creator of your kingdom, and it is for you. Time there passes with a sun and two moons, currently; there are four seasons, yet the summer is never too hot, and the winter may bring due ‘frozenness,’ yet is never too harsh to endure, like peaceful snow in the forties. When we return here, the time will be what it was when we left, even if it is ill-advised to stay gone too long.

(Lilia) Ill-advised?

Pearl glanced over to Blizmas.

(Blizmas) We can foresee no danger to you; too long from here and a permanent stay would result in damage to our conscience. You probably wouldn’t want to be there for over a few weeks, at most; it would take years on end to be any danger. We simply wanted to let these notions be known, though.

(Lilia) Wow. I have time to think about it?

(Azul) As much as you want.

Lilia decided to turn in, and her dragons took their positions on the windowsill and peacefully went to sleep, too, cautiously remembering their original positions.

A few weeks went by. Lilia kept her A’s, helped other students learn, and made it to page 400 of the ‘Tor book.’ During this time, she got to know her dragons, and they her. They took to waking during some times after dusk, so that Lilia wouldn’t have to wake in the middle of the night. One night she went to bed early, before six pm, and awoke around 2:30 in the morning.

I think I would like to go see our kingdom.

The three dragons were practicing juggling four balls of

magic and nearly did not notice Lilia’s being awake. The balls disappeared when Azul saw her.

(Blizmas) You are awake?

Sure. Is it a real, magical place?

(Pearl) Without question, and only one of a great many we can, as the four of us, go to. You’ve thought about it?

For days. A small part of me wanted to be sure that I would not want a permanent stay. I decided that I have goals.

(Azul) Just remember, real life is important, and magical fantasy realms are only real while we are there. Nothing is more important than your life/world, here; even if it would be hard to explain, for now.

(Blizmas) Indeed.

(Pearl) With that, I think we should go.

How?

(Azul) Notice the time. It is now 2:47 am – that is when we will return.

I am going to do some stretches.

Lilia got out of bed, did some stretches, and changed into a comfortable outfit. She wore a loose, long-sleeved, hunter-green wrinkle shirt, one she hand-sewed with her mom, and tan drawstring pants. It would be a perfect outfit for keeping up with the five am yoga program, sometime. Those favorites, along with semi-thick socks and her ‘thunderstorm-colored’ slip-on, soft-sole shoes.

(Azul) Are you forgetting your silver tierra?

I have no such item.

(Blizmas) Right, and you did not win it in a secret sparring competition with twelve-yearolds.

Trying not to laugh, Lilia carefully and very quietly and slowly opened the bottom drawer of her chest of drawers. Beneath her sleeping fabrics, she removed a small, silk-lined box. The box resembled a common block of wood, yet she opened the lid to reveal both her tierra and the eight hidden magnets that held the box’s lid to in a clandestine manner. In its center was an oval-shaped emerald, a large, dark-green stone set with a thin silver ring.

She fitted the tierra on her head, looking to her dragons, with a ‘partial’ expression of hoping they were satisfied.

(Blizmas) Our maker here owns a kind of crown, after all.

The four laughed a little and looked to the clock to see it display five ‘till three.

How do we leave?

(Azul) Hold us close, then raise your hands, then close your eyes.

Lilia did not know how to pick them up off the sill, yet as she held her hands to them, Pearl and Blizmas climbed onto her left and right palms, and Azul floated between them, naturally. As she raised her hands in the air, her three dragons raised their wings, suspended in front of her. The four were looking at the clock; and Lilia smiled; and Lilia closed her eyes.

In an instant, the four were on a large plateau. One moon was fading from site towards the lower left of all that Lilia could see, and another moon, pale blue yet near white in glowing hue, showed a full circle on the opposite end of a peaceful and clear night sky. There was a calm breeze. There were scattered stars in the night sky, distant yet brilliant, and as Lilia took in the rest of what she could see, she noticed a vast forest of trees and shadows which extended a far distance until it met the horizon. The forest started a distance from what she could see of the area in front of the bottom of what must have been a ‘gargantuan’ mountain.

Her majesty’s three dragons flapped their wings slowly while they were suspended, just to stay in motion.

Wow. It is beyond what I could have expected. I would not be able to put this scene into words.

(Azul) It ‘is’ amazing.

Even with their knowledge of so many places and realms, the dragons were impressed, indeed.

(Blizmas) I know you are tempted to test it.

Without question. I am resisting the temptation to fly. I can sense my own magical abilities here. Again, I do not think I could have imagined such power, or even the ease of control of it, on my own. Just one test?

(Azul) It’s all up to you. We should be able to caution your decision if it is ever of question.

Lilia held out her right hand and directed a magical ‘moon beam’ in a strange angle to see pretty light, then let it go. The dragons did not comment, yet they were grateful that their maker did not surprise them and change into something nonpositive or terrible. She could obviously understand her powers, here, and she was quite the minimalist with her must-have experiment.

I think I will wait for another time to materialize any people or to make any grand changes. I like it this way. I think it would be fun to fly.

The dragons agreed, and without Lilia being surprised, they enlarged from about three inches in height to about seven feet tall, each. She climbed onto the back of Blizmas, and they were off.

They flew from the plateau on the mountain down to its lower vicinities and soared to far above the treetops of the forest. They flew away from the mountain over the forest for a while, and Pearl and Blizmas and Azul with Lilia on Blizmas’s back circled around to fly back to the large mountain. The tops of the trees below them passed them by hurriedly as they approached the mountain.

When they were closer to the mountain, yet still a good distance from it, they circled the ‘monster.’ It was a large piece of elevated terrain, indeed. As they circled the mountain, Lilia and her dragons saw vast lands in the moonlight. As the plateau faced the north, the west, south and east sides of the mountain faced various terrains. Due west and east seemed to be part of the huge forest yet consisted of hills and plains scattered with small forests and trees and various shrubberies.

Due south presented a seemingly endless prairie consisting, what looked like in its entirety, of three-foot-tall grain, glowing in a translucent mauve hue in the moonlight.

The moon was descending as dawn was beginning to glow before the sun was sure to rise. The dragons and Lilia made it back to the plateau, and she said the lands were amazing. The dragons agreed, and all four held hands to watch the sun rise. From the plateau, the sun peeped up over the horizon to their right, causing the sky to morph into colors of purple and orange and yellow and pink and a pinch of sky blue.

We should return. I see ‘how’ fantastic our realm is here – I am exhausted.

The dragons agreed, and in an instant, while holding hands, they disappeared and reappeared in Lilia’s bedroom, the time on her clock saying five ‘till three. The dragons were perched on the sill, and Lilia changed clothes back into her pajamas and properly replaced her special tierra. They went off to sleep and enjoyed a healthy rest.

For the next ten days or so, Lilia continued to do well in school and read about dragons before slumber. Maybell had been considering various schools for employment for months. There were three main school districts, and she wanted to teach mostly eleventh graders and seniors with thoughts of helping teenagers prepare for their careers and their consideration of higher education.

Two of the school districts were ‘above par’ yet one of them was known for its astounding excellence in education and could proudly mention its realm of adults that traveled from out of state to join in an impressive faculty. It was not a private high school, yet it was proud to pursue its continued scholastic achievements. Called North Brook, Maybell was nearly in tears as she answered the phone to accept an interview for a fulltime teaching position.

Well-rounded in most subjects, she would be teaching in a specific area of study. She interviewed and was able to discuss three openings: art, history, or math. Math was not her strongest subject, yet after conversation she ascertained the school needing a math teacher more than the other two options. It would be the hardest choice; Maybell was a responsible, hard-working person.

She accepted the position, keeping in mind that it would be sure to prove the most challenging. She prepared her mind for extensive study in geometry, trigonometry, algebra, and other branches of mathematics. With discussion, the panel of her interviewers also saw it a beneficial notion to include Maybell with the school’s career advisory board. Her pay would be 110% of what she would have guessed, and all was well.

Lilia and Lucas were very happy for her mom. Maybell was very happy and thankful, too. Said Lilia, “I will help you polish up on your math, so long as you let me check out your teaching books.” Maybell smiled and said, “No problem.”

During the same year, Lucas received a bachelor’s diploma in English and minored in marketing. He was accepted into the university’s graduate program and continued his studies to one day become an English professor. The day Maybell received her new teaching job, she went with Lilia to the grocery store. That night they celebrated with a large meal consisting of many things, most of which were prepared on more rare occasion, due to their expense. After the small celebratory feast, the three waddled off to bed and slept better than over-fed cows.

One Friday night, about a week later, Lilia awoke to speak with her dragons. They were fast asleep, at three.

It’s Friday night.

The dragons stretched and Blizmas volunteered to look to the wallclock. Lilia changed into her ‘flying outfit’ and adorned her secret tierra. Her parents were sleeping soundly after a long week.

The dragons came to, as Blizmas said the time was two ‘till three.

Aren’t you guys excited? I have been thinking for days of what we can go do.

The dragons did some stretches, trying to, at least partially, mock the stretches Lilia had learned from watching her five am yoga show. Two or three exercises; they did not attempt those yet cautiously wondered if other people could do those things. Happy and ready to depart, the three held hands and looked to the clock. The time was three ‘o seven am, and with a look to Azul from Lilia, the four disappeared. Instantaneously.

They appeared on the familiar plateau one hour before high noon. A warm breeze blew as the four took in a breath of clean air. There were no birds; there was no structure.

We need a big table, to think.

Oh, sure. (Azul)

It will have a room for it? (Blizmas)

In a magical land like this, I bet I can imagine a bamboo igloo structure.

Pearl laughed a little, and Lilia clapped her hands. Before their very eyes, a large hardwood table of deep mahogany hue stood before them, and they were housed in an open-like structure with a back wall. The new ‘thought hut’ consisted of five walls, three large viewing windows, a large, open front entrance, three doors wide, and a slanted roof which was tallest in the front. Its two front walls had wide horizontal open windows, and the hut had a rear window, sized accordingly.

The three dragons sat on the front of the table, looking out of the entrance, and Lilia sat beside them.

I am amazed. (Azul)

I like it. (Pearl)

If I ever am a Japanese person and decide to reside in Alaska, I think I may consider this option. (Blizmas)

I think we should start with birds.

You’re the queen; what kind? (Azul)

Lots of different kinds of sparrows, various colorful finches, many others, and exotic tropical birds.

Well said. (Pearl)

There were then many birds in the forest. There were many small birds in the west and east lands, and there were blackbirds in the prairies, with abalone blue and purple markings in the central areas of their wings. Larger black crows existed within the realms of the forest. Her majesty’s kingdom now certainly contained many birds.

The four sat and thought for a little while, and Lilia was deciding on animals and people.

The kingdom needs a queen, a castle, livestock, and various other animals and people.

Lilia got off the table and stretched a little, looking out to the vast forest. Her three dragons (currently three inches tall) flew to perch on her shoulders, and they walked around the hut, giving it a kind of appreciation inspection. It impressed them, and as they looked out to the forest, they could see an occasional bird at random fly above the treetops and dive back into the forest.

There should be various insects and beetles and butterflies, for the birds, and there should be a species of goldengreen scarabs within these notions.

As Lilia willed these things, her kingdom was complete, short a castle and people and animals. There would also need to be a couple of villages, maybe three, yet she was missing home. They decided to take at least one flight. The dragons enlarged to their ‘flight height,’ and Lilia flew with Pearl, this time. They flew to the edge of the forest and circled the mountain to view its southern side more closely, and descended to the plateau, in front of their bamboo igloo hut.

Let’s go back.

The four held hands and disappeared. They reappeared in Lilia’s room at three ‘o seven, and she changed. Then, they went off to bed.

During the next couple of weeks Maybell started her teaching job and studied math books. She was always early for work and did very well. The faculty loved her and was happy to have a new personality to assist in their ongoing efforts of excellence in education. As if there could exist nothing other than a perfect world, there was one problem.

A man with lustful eyes.

During a teacher’s meeting, one of the other math teachers looked upon Maybell. She did not return the look yet could sense it, and she did not like it, either. She spoke with the man who gave her a job, the school’s superintendent, the following morning.

The superintendent, Mr. Elmwoods, confirmed that the teacher had been accused of flirting with seniors and other faculty, before. “I can terminate him,” he said. And Maybell considered the dangers of ‘political’ thought.

“What if we recommend him for a position in another school district along with counseling.”

“Good idea. As soon as he is brought to my attention, once more, I will see to said notions.”

Maybell felt reassured; drastic measures lose to a better compromise, on occasion. Two days later, the head cheerleader went to the superintendent’s office after school and said that the math teacher asked her if she would like to go out to eat the coming Saturday night, in front of three other students. She said she did not tell her boyfriend, who may have been upset with the question. Her boyfriend was an intelligible yet strong athlete preparing for a college scholarship to join a baseball team. Because of these occurrences, there was proof of the male teacher’s perversion, and he was released to a job in another district contingent upon ongoing counseling.

Maybell mentioned these things over dinner one night, and Lucas was thankful for his loving wife and daughter. “Are you still reading the same book before bedtime?” Lucas asked Lilia.

“I am on page 598, where the dragons and people of the village have decided that the big black dragon is a terrible, evil monster.”

“The ending is an impressive denouement; I won’t ruin it for you.”

“Okay.”

“So, this guy was a good looker?” asked Lilia, cautiously.

“No,” said Maybell, “Hopefully, he learned and will better his life.”

“I see some of the most attractive females all the time at the university,” said Lucas, “And I will always ‘love’ only you.” He and Maybell gazed into each other’s eyes, and Lilia said, “I’m going to my bedroom.” She went to her bedroom and completed her schoolwork and read a few pages of her dragon book and showered and went off to bed.

Lilia and her dragons travelled to their kingdom during the night every three days, or so. After they had flown around inspecting its fantastic lands and made their hut and table and conjured the birds and bugs, they waited a while to consider the rest of the kingdom. Surely, there was more to it than a forest, two areas, and the large southern prairie, Lilia thought. She wondered if it was a kind of planet.

The next time they went there, they flew directly over the ‘North Forest’ and kept flying. For some time, all they could see was forest. Eventually, the trees were smaller, and the forest faded to a grassland, then a beach. Then, there was a vast ocean. It took them even longer, yet they flew over the ocean until they finally saw another beach. During this flight, both moons reflected light off the waves of the ocean, like silvery purple and pink and blue rainbows- small icebergs of light, as far as they could see.

The second beach faded into grasslands that faded into the southernmost part of the huge meadow. As the sun rose to their right, they flew over the entire meadow with its golden and purple grain swaying in the gentle breeze until, finally, the huge mountain came into view. Lilia had flown with Azul, this time. They flew around to their hut and rested with their table and returned home.

That was some flight. (Azul)

I had wondered if it was a planet; the ocean seems to take up fifty percent of its exterior. It is a very realistic place for an imaginary realm.

While we are there, it is a good notion to remember to remain on the good side of things. For there, it is real. (Blizmas)

I try to keep that in mind; just because it is magical doesn’t mean that we should not. (Pearl)

The four were tired and went off to bed. Lilia made all A’s in school during her first-grade year. A few days after they found the ocean she awoke during the depths of the night and looked up to her clock.

It’s three ‘till three.

We’ve been up for about half an hour. (Pearl)

What happens if my parents wake whilst our absence?

They would either see you doing your stretches or changing upon our return. We return when we leave, same instance. (Blizmas)

Lilia changed and stretched and put on her tierra.

Big plans? (Azul)

We still have those villages and the castle and the people and animals to make. It should be an exciting journey.

The dragons did their stretches, and the four touched each other by connecting with fingers ‘extra-terrestrial’ style, looking to the clock which read three ten. Then, they appeared in front of their kingdom’s table, a few feet from the hut’s doorway, about an hour after high noon.

So, we have the castle, the animals, a village due east and one due west and another in the center of the forest and the people, including a queen that is not me.

You do not want a prairie village in the south? (Blizmas)

No, West and East Village will farm wheat from the prairie. Deep Forrest Village will have to construct itself, while the East and West villages will already consist of a small town square a piece and various houses and small shops.

Shops? (Azul)

There should be at least three blacksmiths. One for each village and one for the big castle. They can train others as needed. There will also be various tailors and skilled hunters.

What about dragons? (Azul)

For one, I have you guys. A big dragon in the book I am reading may be approaching his bane. I will have to think about that for a while; rest assured, I have many animals and people of many sorts in mind.

Alchemists? (Pearl)

Three main experts, like the blacksmiths.

Horses? (Blizmas)

Part of the animals. There will even be a ‘mule donkey,’ owned and maintained by the priest of the castle’s monk.

Wow. (Azul)

I will count to three, then we can raise our hands to the sky.

And you think these things will happen? (Azul)

As sure as you can fly me over the entire ocean.

The three laughed a little. The previous flight was a long one. They stood in front of the table, and for not much reason, the dragons grew to their seven-foot height. This would be the most magic worked within this realm; it was special.

The three took in a deep breath and closed their eyes and exhaled. Lilia counted to three, and the four of them simultaneously clapped one time and raised their hands into the air. Within moments, the kingdom’s various people and animals and villages with their structures came into existence, even the creatures of the large ocean. The four opened their eyes and

somehow knew that these things had taken place.

Where did we put the castle? (Azul)

Lower right. (Blizmas)

Unless I am wrong, you are accurate. The castle is a ways away from the bottom of the mountain, faced north, a long way away from East Village, with a moat that feeds from one of the mountain’s two rivers. (Pearl)

I did not really notice the two rivers. They come from all the snow that is melts on the summit during the summer?

I think so. The summit is very large and the top of the mountain, there, is another plateau, larger than this one, by far. As the snow melts, the water travels to the east and west, and the two rivers flow to the ocean as barriers for the North Forest and the lands to the left and right of us. (Pearl)

Impressive.

I would like to see the donkey. (Azul)

Next time?

Okay. (Azul)

We should be getting back. I imagine it will take weeks for the people in the forest to construct their village.

Probably so. (Blizmas)


The four looked around for a moment, raised their hands in the air, and disappeared. They reappeared in Lilia’s room, her clock reading ten after three. She changed and they turned in.

Days went by and all was going well. Lilia did find some of her new math to be of challenge, yet, as she tried and tried again, she was eventually able to understand even the most complicated problems she could come across. She found that, with enough repetition, multiplication and division became easy, facilitating an easier understanding of more complicated concepts.

Lilia and her dragons decided not to go to their kingdom for about three weeks or so, to let it settle and give the forest people time. Not that they needed it, yet Lilia enjoyed the time to think, and she was nearing the conclusion of her dragon book.

It was about ten after two am and Lilia was sleeping soundly.

We have to wake her up. (Blizmas)

Pearl looked to Azul.

There is no question on this one? (Pearl)

No. (Azul)

Lilia, you should wake up. (Pearl)

Lilia happily awoke from her sleep, looking up to her dragons. She could tell they were worried.

Is there a problem?

Someone is trying to break into the front. He already tried the door yet was unable to get in because of the deadbolt. He’s messing with the latch on the window. (Azul)

I think it is a math teacher. (Blizmas)

Stay here.

Lilia made sure her dragons were in place on the windowsill and quickly hurried to her parents’ bedroom. She woke them up to go and inspect one of the front windows of their townhouse. An odd thought occurred to her, that no one would be there. She could be in trouble, then, yet she felt it was best to see them before going to the window.

Lucas and Maybell awoke; said Lilia, “I think someone is trying to break into the front left window.” They got to their feet and Lucas grabbed his phone to call the authorities. They carefully made their way to view of the window and saw a shadowy figure messing with the latch on its bottom. Lucas made the call, and they watched the man as he was working with the latch. Maybell noticed he resembled the ‘relocated’ math teacher. In the shadows, after a moment, she saw that it was indeed him. The authorities would be there any minute. The man opened the latch and lifted the window. He raised the window and ducked his head in to swing one foot inside. In silence, Lucas put his arm in front of Lilia to keep her from running at him. The police were there within that moment, and Lucas turned on the lights and opened the front door. The math teacher was arrested for breaking and entering, and Maybell and Lilia went to the kitchen, remaining out of view of the criminal.

Lucas thanked the police as they took the man to their car. He answered their questions, and Maybell let them know that he (the criminal) was the math teacher that had been recently sent to another district for sexual misconduct. The officers included their statements in their report and said their goodbyes, and Lilia’s parents thanked them again.

Lucas figured he would find a way to change the latches on the windows and possibly request security bars for the lower windows on the townhouses. The three went back to bed, and Lilia thanked her dragons and they prayed before slumber.

Days passed and all was well. Lilia and her dragons flew to their kingdom, usually, on Friday nights. The forest people constructed their village, and Azul got to see the monk’s mule donkey. The alchemists performed their studies, and the villages farmed their wheat and hunted wild animals. Eventually, Lilia materialized three more dragons, all seven feet in height, one green, one orange, and one bronze. They remained in the kingdom.

She met the queen and explained everything, including the hut on the plateau (and its table). She helped the queen organize basic laws of the lands, and the hut was accepted as usually off limits for most, short poets and philosophers.

Eventually, Maybell fashioned two small poppets. A boy and a girl. She offered them to Lilia, who thought her mother would be happier with them. Lilia said Maybell should keep her poppets, and she (Maybell) did.

Together on a Saturday afternoon, Maybell and Lilia went, as promised, to see Mr. Pumpernickel. They showed him their five treasured items, and he was impressed. He resisted on commenting that they (all five) seemed to be alive – Azul winked to him upon their departure.

Lilia finished her dragon book, impressed with the notion that it was the largest book she had read, so far, cover to cover.

The ending was a little ‘strong’ for her, because one of the huge magical dragons was slayed. It had to happen due to his evil acts including swallowing a friar; she enjoyed the book, nevertheless.

Lilia read plenty of books on math and many subjects during the latter part of her first-grade year, and especially, during the summer before her second. Lucas was eventually awarded his master’s degree and a position as a professor of English for the university he had worked for and studied with for so long. He also took at least one course a semester, post bachelorette.

Lilia enjoyed writing stories in the fantasy and science fiction genres and completed a novel, with many colorful, magical dragons, before turning twelve. She was graduated from high school (her mom’s) a year early and went off to college on academic scholarships.

All was well.

Everyone lived happily ever after.

+

Happy New Year 2021!

The last year was full of disdain and need for hope, as well as a few reasons for joy. I have counted my blessings daily while praying for others and pursuing mental and physical health throughout 2020. I have not done as much with my writing, yet still plan to. I spent most of this year studying audio circuits and recording mp3 tracks with no lyrics. All experimental, they totaled about 124. Of those, about twelve of them are nearly presentable as actual songs. Two of them are on soundcloud.com/jcm3rockstar, and another track is there by doing a search for “chaos-555-daw-01.” The first two tracks were made with a drum machine and an midi keyboard. The chaos song was made with a small synth from synthrotek with three oscillators. I have another synth I soldered together with five oscillators, yet it, for some reason, has yet to be functional.

In regards to my writing, I have “A Collection of Tales” re-written and am reading it again to make sure it has no typos. I am also still working on a fantasy novel. Its outline is complete (as it was four years ago), and I am about 55% of the way finished typing out its ‘story chapters.’ Most of the reading I have done this year has been within electronics research. For the life of me I have not been able to refrain from re-reading the same material – at least I have learned how to assemble basic circuits with a breadboard and, whew, have I done some soldering. These notions involved the Bastl Kastl Synth, both the Sound Generator and the Sequencer from sparkfun.com, three other small synths, a few led circuits, and at least four other circuits that were experimental, such as a square wave generator that has a changeable duty cycle. I have read about and tried to more fully understand integrated circuits, such as the popular 555 IC, and I developed an idea including two of those called the “Trumpet.” I recently posted a video of the two-part circuit on youtube, here. I figured it out with a small 8-key organ circuit and the 555 lofi synth circuit from synthrotek, both of which were working circuits before I got them combined with breadboards and replacement components. There is a caption below the video about the “Trumpet.” Please, understand the video was to show a working circuit, not to present a song. The circuit works, and the high-pitched sounds will be decreased to lower tones upon its completion.

Covid has taken over 300,000 lives in the United States, alone; thank you for keeping those of us directly affected by the pandemic in your prayers.

About the most I have to show for writing, this year, was the update of “Sometimes They do not Make it,” and I apologize for not having more time for writing and editing. I do plan to pursue writing more, this year; I still have many goals with music and audio circuit research, too. Along with learning more about integrated circuits, I plan to learn more about assembling a synth, eventually, and such a notion can take a lifetime. I cook and wash dishes to stay alive, for now; thank you for any support you can give me involving my creative efforts. 🙂

Mary Shelley, famous for “Frankenstein”, is known as the founder of the science fiction genre. For all these decades. A scientist built a monster who was the end of him (the scientist); the irony of the story gave it fame in Europe. The story has been read or seen by many since. On her birthday, bing presented a wallpaper of her castle. Here is a watercolor painting, a photo of one, inspired by the image of the castle. The background clouds were an attempt to utilize a gouche, brush, ‘cloud-making’ technique, of ‘perceived’ Asian origin. The flower in the clouds attempts to approach the semblance of an orchid. Thank you for viewing the photo; I hope you have the time to read a few of my stories, too. 🙂

photo of watercolor, "Shelley's Clouds"

Inspired from an image on bing dot com presented on Marry Shelley’s birthday, “Shelley’s Clouds” presents a slightly visible ‘orchid’ cloud attempted to be painted with ‘Japanese Gouche’ technique. She ‘founded’ the science fiction genre with “Frankenstein”, a story whose irony became its way to fame.

{  the diamond below links to a story i hope  brings harmless joy to many  🙂  }

Shelley’s Clouds

The Ornament Maker

There was once a common man who sought health and pleasure. He, Mark Grim, thought himself ‘common,’ anyway. A simple enough life and story he lived for his first twenty five years, as a college student, he decided to take a break and work for a while. With over three years of education, he had not slept well during those times and was classically ‘burned out.’ He worked a job and made ornaments, studied occult texts. The ornaments came to life, and occurrences ensued… (Sally solves a complicated mystery, Grim not the… ).

“Good morning, Mr. Grim,” said Sally Witherspoon. “Good Morning, Sally,” said he, “You are early?” “I knew I was cutting it close and did not want to take my chances.” “You make your own schedule to work here, and you worry for being on time?” “I like to be on time, to be here when you want, and I appreciate the flexibility.” “Your current art project?” “In the works. Coming along fine. Other students don’t seem to ‘get it,’ short one or two of twenty or so.” “Their sculptures may compete?” “Already do. We have separate work areas at the University, yet a few students have shown me their projects. One or two of them will surely promote some form of thought.” “And yours is of a kind of waterfall?” “The assignment is meant to convey some meaning; I went with a kind of ‘cycle of life, rolling stones travel mossless,’ kind of an idea.” “Well, I am sure it will work out. I am going to step out for a bite to eat; I should be back in a few hours.” “Okay.”

Mr. Grim left and Sally exhaled. An interesting man, she dared never to curiously seek his creative motivations. “Always for goodness,” he once said. “I am an artist,” thought Sally on more than one occasion, and during those thoughts she would look upon the various shelves of Christmas ornaments, some lifelike and some decorative or ‘geometric.’ She would think, “And as an artist, most things seem to present a notion of sorts, yet these things present some mysterious element of fear.”

And, of course, time then seemed to stop. She relaxed, took in the rest of her familiar surroundings and walked to behind the cash register to settle her belongings. Usually, business was slow enough for her to study some while the occasional pedestrian waltzing non-nonchalantly flittered through the doorway to inspect never-seen-before, or at least rare, curiosities. Sales were usually most promising with parents who enjoyed Christmas shopping.

Caught up with her studies, for then, anyhow, Sally gazed upon the hundreds of figurines, wondering if she simply did nothing at all time would continue to stand still. There for a short while, she was ‘nearly’ convinced that, so long as nothing moved, time must have stopped. A small part of her knew full well; however, that time moves as objects fall within the laws of physics, that nothing so peaceful lasts forever.

With minimal surprise, the front door to the small sales place opened in common fashion, and a seemingly intelligible man walked in, cautiously, wearing a full-brimmed hat that somehow nearly masked him. He stood in the doorway for a moment, as if, depending on his welcome, he could flee. “How may I help you?” asked Sally. “What, may I ask, sort of business is conducted here?” “We sell Christmas ornaments. They are made by hand and some deem them magical.” “Magic?” “‘Some.'” “I  see.” “How much are they?” Sally, feeling like she could have been more hospitable, carefully got up to better greet a person some part of her did fear, somehow.

“Well, let me show you,” she said, politely guiding the pedestrian from the light of the front window to the shadows of the ornament shelves. The man’s site returned from the change in light after a brief moment, and he was impressed with the ambient yet colorful and fading lighting, the ornaments, and the obvious attention to detail that must have gone into their making.

“These front shelves are for mostly anyone and display items that are less intricate and more affordable, for most. They are eighteen plus tax.” “Any of them?” “All eight of these shelves.” “I see their value; even of these that are ‘more affordable;’ mind if I take a look around?” “Nope. I will be behind the register if you need assistance.” The man noticed the small signs that said, “No touching, please,” and meandered throughout the small store.

Sally attempted to not keep an eye on him, yet he was seemingly intrigued with nearly each ornament. How, given the time he was there, was a seeming perplexity. “I see this one shelf is set aside, there, in a glass case, and a little harder to reach than the rest of the items.” “Sure. Those are special.” “Why?” “Supposed reasons. Those are the most intricate, made of the most costly materials, and possess the most meaning, magical force or depth or whatever.” “Interesting. There is no price on them; the most expensive shelf lists each item for eighty nine.” “Usually, if someone wants an ornament out of the glass shelf, they work a deal with my manager.” “I see. Is that by appointment?” “Sometimes.” “I may return to inquire further of one of those,” said the man, taking one last look at one of the ornaments in the case. It looked like the figurine of a Christmas ninja, and for one small instance, the customer wondered if the figurine was watching the front door.

The man walked to one of the shelves and asked about one of the more expensive ornaments, one he liked yet one that he chose nearly at random. Sally carefully packaged it for him; he paid in cash, left the change, and politely departed with such grace that Sally wondered if she had even seen him. She counted her drawer and it was accurate, and Mr. Grim returned a few moments later.

( 2 b continued, eventually 🙂 )

Song Page

Hello, beloved visitors and followers of my blog.

As an aspiring writer, I have also endured other forms of creative endeavor. Like music.

Here is a free presentation of two songs I did; they have no guitar or lyrics, but a beat and midi synth.

jungle and waltz

Thank you for listening.

If you would like to donate to me to help cover the costs of writing stories and creating inspirational music, send money via paypal to: jcm3@email.com

Thank you, also, for enjoying literary and music content as I pursue goals:)

A Post for The Drabble

“The Drabble” is a popular blog and many people take part in it. Recently, they liked one of my posts/stories as they have, before (“The Story of Mathias Wizandar”). The seemingly most important rule behind a Drabble is to write  a story in one hundred words or less. For us lovers of poetry and flash fiction, it is one of those exciting ways/places we can express ourselves efficiently as writers, and prove that it is not so difficult, after all, to write a story that meets literary qualifications in so few words.

I have never submitted a Drabble until now (send one here 🙂 ). I sent the last one-hundred word story I crafted to “Reader’s Digest”. It was not accepted for publication, yet I thought others might find it humorous. It was about a time when I accidentally felt the leg of a woman who I thought was my girlfriend; it was her sister. At any rate, here is a photo of a candle (please, pardon my amateur photography) and a kind of summary of “The Story of Mathias Wizandar” in the form of a semi-poetic Drabble.

To Light A Candle

As a Christian, Mathias endured thoughts of the use of magic for decades. Dedicated to his work, he stayed single yet happened upon a young woman in a bookstore while dreaming of fantastic, goldenly magical, shadowed forest glades. He read a spell book she sold to him and considered its prose, held his hands above a candle while speaking a spell to watch the heat of its light dissipate surrounding shadows.

The rhyming may have seemed cheesy, yet I think the summary was there, and it was fun to do something spur-of-the-whim. “Goldenly” was a quick neologism, I cannot imagine how many words may have been better, yet I sometimes dream of dark forests with trees that drip glowing gold from their leaves and attribute those ideas largely to H. P. Lovecraft, especially if there is a big tomb there with a man reading about fantastic worlds besides a casket.

I usually like to craft a good plot with an outline and re-think it to a more valuable idea, write out a draft and revise it, then polish it until I think an editor somewhere may want it. That all takes time, yet we, as writers, have our hopes and goals. Thank you for reading this post; I hope you enjoyed it. 🙂

The Story of Mathias Wizandar

His hands were shaking with sweat as he made his way in the darkness to the sink. An extraordinary man, Mathias’s previous notions had proven accurate. These next few lines mention his story.

His original name was Bob Smith, a horrifyingly common name. He did not mind his name much, enjoyed meeting other Bob Smiths into his early thirties. A Christian man, Bob had obtained an associate’s degree and left college to pursue the life of a paralegal, averaging between fourteen and twenty-four thousand a year. He lived alone, as most women he dated were either greedy for money, too overly controlling, or simply non-monogamous.

During Bob’s studies as an undergraduate, he studied various religions within one of his classes. Attending a Bible college, the more non-traditional belief systems of various cultures around the globe seemed to appeal to him. He liked the idea of Buddhism; mainly, the notion of pursuing a nothingness to achieve enlightenment.

During his many years working as a paralegal, Bob worked hard hours and saved and pursued two activities other than attending church once a week. One of those activities involved working for his brother-in-law, who ran a construction firm, on Saturday mornings. The pay was decent, yet the physical labor was what he enjoyed and also why he held the second job.

His other activity was painting. He painted obscure images of fantastical nature to impress both himself and others that may gaze upon his works, eventually got into oils and began to sell his paintings online. Of course, he saved his money from these sales and put it back into more painting supplies and material for study. Eventually, a studio.

By the age of forty, Bob had his own place for painting and politely took a permanent vacation from his law firm with a suitable retirement plan. It was understood that he could return to his legal services at any time; he may even consider studying to pass the bar exam, eventually.

Bob was of the mind to dream, consider possibilities, and pursue what intrigued him most. His paintings were selling and the rent for his studio was low; he decided to take it a little easier on his forty-first birthday and gave up construction work, at least temporarily.

There was something pressing on Bob’s mind. He enjoyed reading and writing, usually read some form of fantasy, sci-fi, or horror story before bedtime. The horror stories usually did not scare him; he enjoyed analyzing the grammatical style of prose and considering what caused fear to occur in the mind of a work’s reader. He had noticed that the spiritual realm was not just some hoax; it was there. He saw or sensed spirits all the time, did not let these occurrences distract his Christian beliefs.

Growing up, Bob was taught, as a Christian, to stay away from ‘occultic’ study. He had always wondered; however, why would practitioners of magic chose an afterlife of doom for rewards on Earth? There simply had to be a justifiable temptation. “One way or the other,” thought Bob, “I am, at least, going to consider the study of magic.”

On one breezy, cloud-cast, and relaxing Saturday afternoon, Bob decided to jog across town to the local bookstore to check out anything he could find on practicing magic. After all, what could it hurt? Wouldn’t certain notions further found him in his Christian beliefs? Though many clergymen would most certainly disagree, he made the jog over to the bookstore.

He found a great many books, many of which seemed overpriced or fancy yet not necessarily what he was after. He picked up a book on how to light candles with spells, calmly grinning to himself in wonder of said possibility. He flipped through the book quickly so as not to catch the eye of a worker; Bob was no freeloader, that was for sure. On the back of the book there were references to other books and a website that sold them. He memorized the website; put the book back; quickly jotted down the site in a small address book; and made his way to the magazine section towards the front of the store.

He spent little time looking through the magazines and selected one on modern painting with oils and other mediums. Bob brought the magazine to the counter, purchased it along with a grape-peach Snapple, and headed home.

Once home he spent about an hour going through the magazine and admired the paintings and various techniques he did and did not know of, before. Of course, the site he had written down seemed to be jumping around in his pocket in need of attention. He looked the site up on the web with a search engine and found hundreds of sites with books on spirituality, healing, and witchcraft.

Bob made sure to check out the site he had written down first and also browsed through the top five most visited sites found with the search. Of the books he saw, he finally found one that seemed to appeal to him the most, which happened to be on the site he had written down. It was a basic history of witchcraft, how to become a Wiccan priest, and basic practices with spells and the acknowledgement of various Sabats (which he eventually thought of as ‘witch Sundays’ that seemed to occur at least one hundred days a year).

Bob ordered the book and continued with the arduous work involved in painting and selling his art. The book came in about a week later and he read twenty to sixty pages of it a night until he had completed the text. He was not too keen on burning incense, drinking wine, or dancing around naked with witches, yet he learned a few things that satisfied his curiosities.

Bob then found his dilemma. He was sure he would have to denounce his Christianity in order to fully pursue the virtues and goodwill of Wiccan order. He thought about it for a few weeks as he was painting landscapes overcast with floating geometric objects and made a form of lukewarm decision. He would study and sometimes practice rituals without actually denouncing his original beliefs. The spirits near him seemed to be watching him patiently, waiting to help him achieve whatever goals he was really after.

It dawned on Bob that there was an occultic bookstore not too far away, one day, and he jogged over there on another Saturday afternoon. Seemingly odd, Bob was not even after a new text. He was after council, and he found it.

Bob cautiously entered the modest store; small bells chimed as a young woman was behind a counter. A faint smell of books and a small cherry-scented candle emanated within the stores shadows. “May I help you?” asked Melany. “I am in search of a basic text for those just beginning to study magic,” replied Bob politely.

Melany blushed and looked to the side and said, “Well, kind sir, we have a few of those here.” She walked over to a shelf and pointed out her favorite one to Bob. He sensed a second presence behind the counter. There were a few copies of the text and they seemed reasonably priced, so he selected one and thanked her. She checked her watch and noticed that it was nearly time for her to go. About the same time, Bob looked over to the counter to see a tall, handsome man, obviously in his golden years.

“May I go, sir?” asked Melany. “Sure,” said the man. Melany said that it was nice to meet Bob and to have a nice day. She gathered a few of her things, put on her sunglasses, and flew out the front door to make it in time for her favorite show.

Bob carefully made his way to the counter, curiously wondering just how intelligent the man must be. “Friend of Melany’s?” inquired the man. “No sir,” replied Bob, “Not until just now, I suspect. My name is Bob Smith.” “A common name.” “Right, I have considered changing it for some time, have not really come up with anything.”

The book still in Bob’s hands, the man said, “Why not Mathias Wizandar? It seems to suit your pursuits.” “Well then,” said Mathias, “I will go by that. What, may I ask, might you go by?” “Call me Tom; I am a wizard with many names in many places.” “I sensed your presence,” admitted Matt, and Tom nodded in understanding.

After a moment, Matt realized that there were a great many things for him to learn and proceeded to pay Tom for the book. “No questions?” asked Tom. “I honestly have no doubt in your capability,” replied Matt quietly. “When your questions arise, and I am sure they will, feel free to come here or give me a ring.” Tom handed Matt a business card who read and held it for a moment as if it was some unknown living creature.

The address on the card was to a large estate on the outskirts of town. “Will do. I am, as you may know, an artistic painter.” Matt carefully handed Tom his own business card which included his website and contact info. “I have some time on Saturdays if you need any help with the upkeep of your estate.” “Will do,” said Tom with a grin. Matt thought he saw his business card float into the pocket of the wizard yet discounted the notion, shook the wizard’s hand, and said it was nice to meet him and thanked him for the book, and departed.

Mathias, while jogging back, constantly reminded himself of how real the spiritual world and the power of magic must really be. Upon his return, he settled in, ate, and set back in his chair to start reading his new book. His spiritual surroundings seemed excited and watched his every move. Matt read the table of contents and glossed over the index. Even given all of the spells, practices, and rituals of the first book on witchcraft he read, which seemed to him to be a kind of a documentary, Bob found one spell that seemed to be a fun thing to try out before turning in.

The spell involved a simple thanks to a god and goddess, a candle centered within a circle drawn with charcoal, and two short poetic chants spoken with words in semblance to each other. One poem would light the candle, and the other the opposite. This would surely be no challenge for Mathias, the notation below the chant mentioned, “First and foremost, you must believe.”

Matt changed into bedtime clothes, found a thin, blank square of wood, and drew a charcoal circle. He retraced it a few times so the medium was thick. Matt then dug out a tea candle from a bag of them he had purchased while the lights were out due to a storm. He lay the book open by the circle, relaxed, held his hands above the candle, and whispered the first poem.

At first nothing happened, yet he held his hands above the candle, and it slowly came aflame. He watched it only briefly, ignoring his amazement, and glanced over to the book. He read the ‘de-cantation’ poem verbatim with his hands still held up, and the small flame slowly faded away.

By then, dusk had turned to night, and it was totally dark, with seemingly no one around. He felt a peace in the darkness, yet, in only a few moments, thought he heard someone thinking. “You know,” the voice said, “If you raise and lower your hand over the candle I will change the height of the flame.” Matt, at first, thought the notion to be crazy; that, surely, he had better things to do with his time.

Mathias courageously held his right hand above the candle and raised and lowered it, as its flame not only rekindled yet rose tall or fell short upon his motions. What seemed fun at first scared him in only a few moments. He sat back startled, the flame assumed its natural height, and, after taking a deep breath and exhaling, Mathias Wizandar made his way to the kitchen sink to wash his perspiring hands. These words may seem to conclude Mathias’s story, yet, as it may be no surprise, they are simply the beginning.

Timothy’s Magic Kite

Once upon a time, a boy endured a fulfilling Friday both in April and in the third grade. During recess, he noticed how windy it was, as children played joyfully, some swaying to and fro on swings. During the bus ride home, he thought to himself, “Man, if I would have had a kite I could have flown it a hundred feet in the air on the first try.”

At the dinner table that evening, young Tim kept cautious with his manners, as if it were no common phenomenon. Upon a what seemed like a four-year wait to speak, he said, “It would have been a nice afternoon to fly a kite, today.” “Maybe if you promise to do some yard work tomorrow your father will take you to the store and buy you a kite to fly on Sunday,” proposed his mother. “I have no problem with doing some yard work,” knew Tim to refrain from objecting to, “I have always wanted to build a kite, though.”

“If you want,” said his father, “And I do plan on sleeping in tomorrow morning, you can try to build one with the slim dowels I have in the garage I usually use for cooking barbecue. Those and some left-over fabric from your mother should get you going.” Tim’s father glanced to his loving wife, and she said, “Oh sure, Honey, I have a sack of extra fabric for quilting in the side closet you are welcome to.”

Tim thought about it; he almost did not want to make the kite, simply because they said he could, wondered of his own mind. He noticed they did not again mention yard duty. “Okay if I try to make the kite tonight and sweep up the leaves in the morning?” “Sure,” said his father, “And, as the weather will probably permit, we can go to the park and fly your new kite tomorrow afternoon.” Young Tim was so excited he nearly left before eating the hamburger steak and mashed potatoes before him, as he had made sure to eat the lemon-butter broccoli first. There would have been no getting away with skipping out on that. Even if vegetables were not his usual first choice, the broccoli was not so bad, after all.

The meal was great and Tim politely relayed this information to his mom and thanked her and proceeded to the garage. He found the yard-long barbies and broke and tied them into a rectangular box-like structure just like he saw on a TV show one time that involved Japanese origami kites. He went and found some scissors and the fabric and went back into the garage. Young Timothy selected the most beautiful fabric, two separate partial sheets. One was dark orange with small green and yellow flowers; the other sheet was bright orange-yellow with purple and blue flowers resembling birds of paradise.

Fully constructed, Tim brought the magnificent kite to his bedside, as it was nearing 10 pm. His brother and his sister were already asleep; Tim went and checked on his parents before saying his prayers and turning in with his amazing new kite by his bedside. In the middle of the night, Tim awoke and could have sworn he saw his kite floating a foot above the ground, as if it were dreaming of being in the sky. The boy discounted the notion. Surely he was dreaming; he went back to sleep until just before daybreak.

Upon dawn, Tim marveled over the kite as if he had never seen it before, totally impressed with its construction, durability, and overall aesthetics. He left it there; showered and changed; brushed his teeth; ate a biscuit and drank some juice; and proceeded to go sweep the leaves.

A chore it was, for the wind was strong and nearly constant. Timothy swept the entire yard, five sacks full of leaves in total. It was noon and his mother called him in for a bologna sandwich and glass of milk. She thanked him for sweeping up the yard, commending his efforts. His father woke up, showered and changed, ate, and inspected Tim’s kite. “Impressive construction,” said Walter, Tim’s father. “Thank you,” said Tim, and they drove with the kite to the park, telling Mrs. Wellington “Goodbye, I love you, and we’ll be back soon.” She waved and blew them kisses as they departed.

The park was gently lit by the afternoon sun and puffy scattered clouds of its sky blue atmosphere. Adults and children played about. Some played catch, others tag, and the rest other games or picnicked. There were sunbathers and card players, nonchalant people existing in a happy joy. Tim and his father made a lengthy walk to a large field in the back of the park. They did not know if the thick string they brought would suffice to fly the kite, yet they planned to take their chances.

Tim and Walter stood about thirty-five yards apart from each other, the wonderful kite in Walter’s hands, his eyes on Tim. Tim assessed the flow of wind, deemed it an adequate constant for their endeavors. “Do you have a good hold on the string?” asked Tim’s father. “I think I have it.” “I will count to three and throw it into a rising gust.” “Okay.”

Walter counted slowly aloud to three and, while allowing the kite to catch the drag of the wind, slowly let it go to float into the air. An astonishing amusement to young Tim, the kite (possibly magical) rose from ground level and climbed in the wind with semi-chaotic grace. Tim pulled left then right, carefully, and guided the kite into the air, higher and higher, until it was about twenty yards above the ground. “Let out some string,” called Walter, and Tim carefully let string from his hands, about six inches at a time. The flying kite amazed Walter. “We got it up there,” he exclaimed. Tim was happy and impressed, too, and saw to it that he got the kite to about fifty yards above the ground before keeping it there in close to the same position.

Many could see the kite swaying gently far above the field, and Walter began walking back to Tim. “The wind is getting stronger,” said Tim, using his strength to hold the string; “The string may break.” “Keep hold of it,” said Walter, as he was walking back to Tim, eyes on the kite. Tim wrapped the string around his hands to hold it well; his father would be there any second to take hold of the line. Just as Tim felt confident he could keep the kite in the air and the line from breaking, his feet left the ground.

Walter saw Tim lifting into the air and dove to catch him. Walter hit the ground belly first, and Tim floated higher into the air. “Let go of the string,” said Walter, but Tim held on to it. By the time he could have unwound his hands, he would be over twenty feet above the ground. The kite rose into the wind, as did Tim. Walter panicked and ran to his car, only to notice he locked the keys inside.

“Hey mister,” said a young woman with a pink Volkswagen Beetle, “Hop in and we’ll follow him if we can.” Walter ran over and got into her car, as Tim soared high above them in a direction away from the park, towards the city.

Tim looked down; the breeze up there was nice. “It might kill me to see it,” thought Tim, “But this is a wonderful view of our city.” Tim could see entire residential neighborhoods, city blocks, industrial buildings, and the cars looked thumb-sized. The wind carried him on.

The young woman happened to be an excellent driver; she and Walter followed Timothy right out of the city, who was beginning to appreciate the beauty of the outskirts of town. Mostly under-developed farmland with the occasional brook, small cabin, or herd of cows, Tim tried to appreciate the view and his many blessings in life the best he could. “Dear Lord,” prayed Tim, “Please, help me land safely.”

At that very instant, as Tim was looking down into a puffy white cloud and barely able to see a field of trees below, he began to slowly descend. The driver’s name was Molly. She and Walter watched in relief, as Tim was appearing to descend and the string and kite seemed to still be intact. Tim was headed for what looked like a hundred-year-old oak tree. He descended gracefully and landed in the lower bushy limbs of the tree. Safely.

Within moments, Walter ran to his son, picked him up and embraced him, thanking the Lord above for his son’s well-being. Tim hugged his father who placed him on the ground. He shook Molly’s hand and thanked her, too. “You are one lucky child,” remarked Molly, “And that is an impressive kite.” “Thank you,” said Tim, “Cool car,” and Walter gave Molly some gas money, as they went with the kite to the pink Beetle.

They put the kite in the back seat for a relaxing ride back into the sunset falling behind their town. After some while, Molly pulled over to the side of the road and stopped. “What now?” wondered both Walter and Tim. “Is it just me or is the kite in the back seat floating in the air?” asked Molly. “It’s magic,” said Tim, and Walter kept his eyes on the road. “Oh,” said Molly, “Okay,” and she proceeded to drive on down the farm road to the park.

Once back, Walter thanked Molly and called his wife for car keys, and he and Tim drove home with the kite. Tim secretly thanked the Lord above for answering his prayers, and everyone lived happily ever after. Tim would never forget his times with his wonderful, magical kite.