She did it again!
I hate it when she pulls my face down into her breasts. And what in all the hells does ‘Onee-chan’ mean anyway?
I guess she picked it up from watching anime, she likes the original stuff - without English subtitles. When she switched TV channels on me yesterday I asked if she understood any of it: “better characters”. Whatever! She doesn’t even know Japanese.
I hardly recognize my sister anymore.
Her ‘growth spurt’ started a couple months ago, she’s not much taller than before, probably hasn’t broken five foot yet, but she’s developed something fierce. Granpa say’s ‘she’s blossoming into a beautiful young woman’. Her boobs have gotten so big I have no idea how she’s able to stand upright.
I’m no judge, but the girls in school when I was twelve didn’t look like her. That’s just not right!
I shouldn’t be surprised, she’s starting to look more and more like Mom. I called her ‘Mini Mom’ she got so upset that she ratted me out to Mom, so now I get to do the dishes for the next week, on top of my chores.
I talked to Granpa about Aisling rubbing her breasts in my face, said that next time I’d lose it and yell at her, Granpa got uptight. I can tell how Grandfather’s feeling by what he calls me, if he’s proud he’ll say: “Son” as in “Son! You did a fine job cutting the grass.” But when he’s upset he’ll say: “Boy” today he said: “Boy! Don’t you do it. Your sister loves you. You’re the biggest male influence in her life, if you drive her away it’ll crush her.”
I hate being reminded that I’m the only male in the house.
Mail day!
Every week like clockwork, a cheque for one thousand dollars arrives in the mail for me, not just me: Mom and Aisling get cheques too. It’s bizarre, the envelopes just have our names on them - typed by an old time typewriter, no markings other than postage, not even a return address.
When the cheques started to arrive, Granpa took me down to see an investment broker. I was asked what stocks I wanted to buy, I said I liked apples - come on! I was a little kid: apple juice, apple sauce, apple fritters, I thought the world revolved around apples, and I figured I was getting an orchard. Who knew Apple computers would take over the world.
I asked Mom once where the cheques came from: “The mailman, silly.” She isn’t wrong!
Mom isn’t the deepest of people when it comes to worldly matters, her idea of news is the weather, and that’s the extent of her interests outside of gardening. Don’t get me wrong, if either I or my sister has a problem she jumps in with both feet, but the everyday, mundane stuff, she’s a little flighty on that front.
After school today Granpa will be taking me to drop off my cheque. Its Spring Fling this weekend and the carnival is in town. My friend Rueben and I have arranged to go tonight.
(Ah lunchtime, best class of the day, even if it is the High School Cafeteria, lets just say it has a zero star rating, which means the last food critic was hospitalized after eating here.)
“Hay yah doofus! How’s the vittles today”
(Enter Rueben: My best friend, I think he watched too many episodes of the Beverly Hillbillies as a kid and decided to make that his life’s ambition, his family might be farmers but the whole hayseed shtick is over the top. He’s a good egg though).
“Mystery meat and some gruel that bears a slight resemblance to macaroni and cheese”
(The slop some sick mind called food dripped off my plastic spork making a disturbing sound as it hit the plate. It was my turn to get lunch today since my last morning class let out a few minutes early).
“MMmm, mystery meat! Be still my beating heart, smothered in ketchup it’s a little slice of heaven.”
(That’s my bud Rubes, mister positive.)
“You ever heard of catsup? It’s all I could find.”
(More cost cutting, when I saw the new packets at the lunch counter all I could think of was cat soup, eewwhh!)
“If it’s red and makes it so’s you don’t notice the flavour, I ain’t one to complain.”
(Fair point, I’ll give him that one.)
“You ready for tonight?”
(Rubes and I made plans weeks ago to go to Spring Fling, eat carny food, ride the rides, cut loose a little - a couple lone wolves on the prowl.)
“Shore am! Pa said I can take the truck, when do you want me to pick you up?”
(Great! He’s got wheels, we won’t need to get a lift.)
“How’s six?”
(It’ll give me time to get home, do some chores, maybe a little homework.)
“Good by me.” Confirmed Rubes with a nod. “We still going stag?”
(Asking a girl out - yeah, not ready for that. Don’t get me wrong, I like girls … maybe a little too much. Sometimes I seem to daydream about them - the long soft hair, a smile that brightens up the day, a cute button nose, that gentle curve of hips and waist …)
“Earth to Iain, come in Iain!”
(Dammit! When did I drift off?)
“Where were we?”
(Nice recovery!)
“You were about to ask Kelly Brennan out”
(Crud, I’ve been busted! Duck and cover! Granpa told me ‘when in doubt - deny everything.)
“What makes you think that?”
“Oh, I’don’t know. Maybe it’s the way you was making cow eyes at her.”
(I can’t help it! It’s like trying not to look at a beautiful painting, your eyes always get drawn to it.)
“Kelly! She hates my guts.”
(Problem is, whenever she looks at me it’s like I have a disease or something. We’ve never even said more than ‘Hi’ to each other.)
“You seem a might taken with hers.” Jested Rueben.
(I think I lit up a brighter red than that cat soup.)
“Least ya’ll got good taste, she’s bout the purdiest filly around.”
“I guess she’s cute.”
(No kidding, she’s a knock-out: great figure, strawberry blonde hair, blue/green eyes with this amazing gold ring around the iris … that day when we bumped into each other in the hall, I’d never looked into such lovely eyes before, deep and dazzling, my cheeks started to burn in embarrassment so I dashed off, apologizing as I went. I suppose I have said more than ‘Hi’ to Kelly: ‘Sorry, so sorry, I didn’t mean to, sorry’ counts! Right?).
Rubes and I quizzed each other over lunch break to prepare for the math exam in the afternoon, we might just be able to muster a pass between us.
Granpa and Gram picked me up from school, Gramps had his 65 Mustang convertible out for a drive, one of his favourite stories is how he bought it new off the showroom floor. I guess when you’re eighty-something you have a lot of stories to tell. Gram had on a big pair of dark sunglasses and a scarf over her hair that matched the floral sundress she wore. A sure sign of spring: a convertible with the top down cruising the strip with your best girl.
On the way home they reminded me that I was to be Granpa’s caddy tomorrow, then we would meet up for dinner. I played along, they didn’t want to spoil the surprise - but I’d figured it out, it was my birthday after all.
We live on an acreage a short distance out of town, too far to walk home, and the school bus takes forever since we’re the second to last stop on the route. It’s my grandparents place, but a second house was built on the property for us.
I suppose you’d say our place is a farm too, but Granma and Mom keep greenhouses. They grow flowers for the most part, and a few vegetables for our own use. Customers come from all over for Gram and Mom’s flowers, everyone says they have green thumbs and sell the best flowers. But I’ve seen the books - as a business it loses money, thing is they love it, Granpa says the joy it brings them is worth any price.
I helped Grandpa wash his mustang before he parked it in the garage, Gram brought us some lemonade. Gram and my Mom are cut from the same cloth - obviously its an Irish tartan. They have similar red hair and green eyes, they could even pass for sisters - and now my little sister was beginning to look just like them. I’m sure Gram has to be in her late seventies but she could pass for forty, there is a youthful vigour and vitality there that just radiates. When Gram smiles at you, you know you are loved and all is right with the world.
It was nearing six, so I’d showered and changed into a good set of clothes. All my life: Mom had laid down the law, and set out a few rules for us kids. ‘No denim!’ She wouldn’t allow her kids out of the house looking like ragamuffins. I didn’t even own a pair of jeans!
Another rule of Mom’s: no tee shirts, especially with logo’s. ‘Your not a billboard’ I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard her say that. So I wore some freshly pressed black pants with a cream colour polo shirt, and brought out my leather bomber jacket for tonight.
I was kneeling at the front door lacing up the sturdy boots Mom had gotten me, they were no-name, I suspect she found them at Army and Navy: the military surplus store.
Mom and Aisling came in, loaded down with shopping bags in hand. I should have known better! Aisling rushed over and next thing I knew my face was buried in a set of DD cup breasts. Again! As my sister jumped … and bounced, while hugged me. “Onee-chan! Thank you!”
The assault upon my person ended with my sister running down the hall to her bedroom, squealing like only an excited twelve year old girl can.
(Okay; I’ll give her that one.)
Looking up at Mom, I saw her smile.
(This can’t be good.)
“What was that about?”
(Somethings afoot and the shoes gonna drop.)
“Your taking your sister to the Spring Fling tonight.”
(I don’t remember when it no longer became cool to cry, but I did consider it in my list of options.)
“Mom. Do I have to?”
(I however, am not above whining.)
“You’ll have fun!”
(I had a hundred counter arguments against that statement! But I saw the look of hope and dependance in her medium green eyes, her desperate need for me to be a loving son and a caring big brother. My resolve cracked like a cheap piece of glass - I even heard it shatter on the floor at my feet.)
“When do you want her home by?”
(So I’m a wimp! If I had a Dad maybe I’d have a backbone.)
“Ten thirty, You too! It's a big day tomorrow.” She reached into her purse then pushed a handful of bills into my hand, I spread it out, doing a quick count and was shocked.
“Mom, this is two hundred dollars!”
(I had sixty bucks on me and knew that would more than enough to cover tonights festivities.)
“You don’t think it will be enough?”
(I mentioned already that Mom’s not always on top of stuff.)
“It’ll be fine, I’ll bring you the change.”
(My Mom! Sweetest lady going - even if she looked like a redheaded bombshell. Her hugs I was okay with).
My sister came out wearing a dark green pantsuit with a wide black belt, I was in a panic since it showed a few too many curves, but when she donned a furry white jacket that looked like sheep's wool it toned down the look. She had rolled up the flared out pant legs to show the patent leather boots that went up above her knees, she asked Mom to help with the zippers. I don’t recall even seeing my sister wear high heels before but these boots were monsters, six inches I guessed.
A honk out on the driveway said Rueben had arrived. I waved at him from the door as Aisling finished getting ready. Mom bade us a good time and watched us leave. How Aisling walked in those boots without a wobble or hesitation in her step was beyond me.
Rueben whispered to me while Aisling climbed into the truck “Your Mom is a real looker.”
(Why did every guy have to say that!)
“Dude! That’s my Mom.”
(Yeah, okay! Mom looks like a twenty year old model or something and it drives guys crazy, but don’t tell me these things … It’s my Mom!)
“Your sister is mighty cute too.”
(Give me strength! That’s not what a brother needs to hear.)
“Dude! That’s my little sister, she’s twelve!”
“I’m just saying.”
(Trust me its not news to me.)
“You could go to jail for even making jokes about that.”
(Welcome to my new reality.)
“Babysitting detail?”
(I hate to disappoint Rubes that I’ve been corralled into looking after Aisling.)
“Big brother duty.”
(Please understand!)
Rubes shrugged his shoulders and gave a single nod to indicate his acceptance.
My sister waited for us in Rueben’s red truck, checking her look in the rearview mirror. “I like the colour” she commented in a smooth if not sultry manner to Rueben as he climbed in. The cab had only a single bench seat so Aisling had slid into the middle to sit beside him.
Before we’d even left the driveway, Aisling had snuggled up close to him and was looking up at him with big doe eyes “Do you have a date tonight?”
I could see Rueben was torn, he looked down at my sister to give her as warm a smile he could, but then looked over to me with fear in his eyes - begging for help, his Adams apple bobbed as he gulped.
I decided to give the guy a break and asked Aisling “What’s with the boots?”
“Last year I couldn’t go on any of the good rides cause they have ‘you must be this tall’ rules. With these boots I can go on any ride there.”
(That’s actually pretty clever.)
“That - and they look great, don’t you think so Rueben?”
(Oohh! She’s laying it on thick - is my kid sister hitting on my best friend?)
“I can’t rightly say Miss, I’m only familiar with cowboy boots to be honest.”
(Hats off to Rueben, trying to be diplomatic.)
“Why is it that people call them shitkickers?” Aisling asked as she nestled in closer to Rubes, if that was even possible.
“Well, ya see: when a horse has it in mind to bless the earth by leaving a gift of fertilizer on the ground, it behoves a cowboy to distribute the love around some.”
(I was amazed: political correctness in the hands of a master.)
I can’t say I was all that surprised with my sisters conduct; teasing my best friend like that. Aisling always needed to know the lay of the land - if she’s welcome or a burden, she also likes to be the centre of attention. Rubes is just her latest conquest, unfortunately the poor guy had taken to gapping like a landed fish as she continued to give him the big eyed puppy dog routine.
But she’s no longer playing a timid little girls game - cause she’s no longer a little girl - not looking the way she does; she can pass for older than me, guys are going to get the wrong impression.
I noticed something as I looked at my sister; she was the same twelve year old girl I’d known all along, Aisling had grown so fast her innocent young mind and heart were caught in a body that exceeded her ability to cope. She was nervous and scared and begging for acceptance - and she was my sister.
“Good thinking, those boots make you much taller. Is there a ride you really want to try?”
(I gave Aisling want she needed, and let Rube off the hook.)
“The Octopus, the one with the arms that go up and down” rejoiced Aisling.
“A classic” admitted Rueben. “I’ve been hungry for a corn dog since last year, how’s bout you Missy.”
(Best thing about my friend, he picks up on small hints and doesn’t sweat the big stuff.)
“Cotton candy” piped in Aisling with a gleam in her eye.
“The Sizzler” I added.
My sister looked at me like I was bonkers before saying; “Is that a hot dog?”
“A ride” supplied Rubes. “It zips round so fast it generates strong G force.”
(I noticed he left out the bit about how the person sitting on the outside gets crushed, a fact he was no doubt going to capitalize on.)
Arriving at the fair grounds, Rubes dropped us off by the gate while he parked his truck, I bought the entrance passes, since Rueben provide transportation the trade off was I’d get his ticket.
It wasn’t like Rueben and I planed it or anything, but it ended up that we walked on either side of Aisling, like a couple secret service agents on protective detail. It seemed so perfectly natural to Aisling that she linked her arms into ours and became the engine that dragged us to every booth and stall.
We hit the midway, and I did decent at some of the skill games, good enough at ring-toss to win a small toy for Aisling. But when we played the water gun game, Rube and I took our respective positions on either side of Aisling and both aimed our guns at her clown.
She picked out a huge stuffed elephant which she named Mr. Snuffles as her winnings, I had no clue how it would fit in the trucks cab to get it home.
I’ll let you in on something we discovered: Carnies like to have fun too! When people on rides whoop it up, laugh loudly and scream wildly … well with Rube and I providing the baritone laughter, and my sisters soprano voice which can cut steel when she shrills, the Carnies let the rides run longer and faster than I’d ever known.
We stopped for the third or fourth time at the chuck wagons, Rubes wanted another corn dog. While Rueben was standing in line, Aisling left my side and went over to a distressed girl sitting on a bench, she was slumped over with her hands covering over her face.
In sympathy my sister asked “Are you okay?”
The moan that came in reply indicated something was seriously wrong, the body language said a lot of pain and discomfort.
Aisling sat down on the bench next to the girl, setting Mr. Snuffles down beside her as well.
“Can we help?”
(I stood in front of them, proud of my sisters need to help others.)
When the girl raised her head - I was shocked … Kelly Brennan!
(The girl I went to school with, Kelly; the girl I had such a crush on it hurt.)
Kelly was looking more than a touch green around the gills.
“Ohhh! I don’t feel so good” she complained. She looked up just that little distance higher to see me, and let out another groan.
(I confess, my ego took a hit.)
Rueben joined us saying; “I got an extra corn-dog, anyone want it?” He held out the offered bonus treat while taking another delighted bite from his own.
Kelly took one look at the food in front of her, her cheeks swelled as her stomach lurched. She bolted just in time to lower herself over a trashcan as she heaved, the violence with which she emptied her stomach wracked her body… repeatedly.
The three of us shared glances of concern, Aisling snatched the few napkins Rueben had then grabbed more paper towels from a kiosk. I handed Aisling my bottle of water as she came to Kelly’s aid.
Rueben and I stayed close, but gave enough distance to not be crowding, I retrieved more paper towels when the first ones had been spent cleaning up Kelly, Aisling acted like a nurse, a mother, a clucking hen caring for Kelly’s every need.
When Kelly was steady enough to sit down again my sister brought her over to the bench, announcing “We’re taking her home!”
“Motion sickness?” Asked Rubes.
“Don’t think so, she hadn’t been on rides like us, so I think it’s something she ate” assessed Aisling.
Rueben took his cue and headed off to get the truck, I lent an arm to help support a wobbly Kelly as my sister took the other arm. We managed to get Kelly up to the fair grounds entrance at the same time Rueben brought his truck up.
We loaded Kelly onto the seat beside Aisling, I took Mr. Snuffles and climbed into the back, I bundled up into my leather jacket, raising the jackets collar and hugging the stuffed elephant tightly for extra warmth during the cold drive.
I wasn’t privy to the discussion in the cab, but we stopped in front of a nice looking house in the middle of town. Kelly climbed out of the truck as I hopped over the truck-beds side, I asked with sincere concern if she needed me to help walk her up to her house, she declined saying she could make it on her own.
(I was torn; worried, but couldn’t force my aid.)
I handed Mr. Snuffles to my sister as I got into Rubes truck. We waited until Kelly entered the front door before Rubes drove off.
Mr. Snuffles was now in a strangle-hold hug all the way home as my sister clung onto him, we said little as we drove, the acidic smell of puke still hung in the air.
(I think the word to use is somber, we were somber.)
Rueben parked under our yard light, climbing out of the truck we all met at the tailgate.
“I be wanting to thank you for a heap o fun tonight” said Rueben giving us a little bow.
Aisling rushed him and threw her arms around him in a hug “I’m sorry I messed up your evening.”
“Little lady, you have nothing to apologize for. Heck! I get to go home and brag about helping a damsel in distress.”
I don’t know how Aisling did it in those boots, but she rocked herself forward high enough to reach Rueben’s cheek, and planted a kiss on it.
“Well now Missy! If in six years you’re still feeling so inclined, I might just come calling.”
(I marvelled at my best friend, who I just realized acted like a perfect gentlemen all night, he had just made my little sister feel like a million bucks, had given her a reminder she was still too young, but told her he’d be willing to date her. I had to admit - I’d probably let him … in six years.)
We waved goodnight to Rueben from the front porch, when his taillights disappeared down the road, I opened the door for us, checking the clock we had arrived home well before curfew.
Standing in the entrance, my little sister looked up at me overtop Mr. Snuffles, her big green eyes fixed woefully on me as she buried the rest of her face into her stuffies fur, her worried voice squeaked out “Thank you for taking me, I’m sorry I made us leave. I had fun tonight.”
“I enjoyed tonight too, and you did what had to be done” I said as I moved close, crushing Mr. Snuffles between us in a long hug, My sister squeed happily, since I wasn’t mad at her for ruining ‘Spring Fling’.
(I held onto my sister with pride and I wondered if she would always look up to me as her big brother, I hoped I could earn the right.)
I’m sixteen today, I didn’t feel any different when I woke up, no manifestation of universal enlightenment, no burst of manliness; mores the pity. I guess that stuff must happen at seventeen? Or eighteen maybe?
In the mirror was the same guy as before: an unruly mop of red hair that needed a cut, eyes almost the same shade of green as my Mom and sister - I’m told its an Irish trait, Mom and Dad both have Irish heritage. I guess with a name like Iain Coghlan it’s kinda obvious.
Rueben jokes about being a redneck, I tell him I have such pale skin I’ve always got a sun burn, even on cloudy days.
I only have a vague memory of my Dad, he was standing in a hallway, holding out his hands, waiting for me to walk into his arms. I don’t remember his face, just a red flannel shirt. Granpa said my dad was a lumberjack, sounds like an okay job, I guess. He died.
Mom only has a single photo of him, a wedding picture, he was bent over kissing her and you can’t see his face. Sometimes Mom looks through an album she keeps; it doesn’t have any pictures in it, just pressed wildflowers, presents he would bring her from out in the woods. Mom always cry’s when she looks at them.
Would he be proud of me?
Mom knocked on my bedroom door to roust me, “Your Grandfather asked me to make sure you wore country club suitable clothes: button up collar shirt, long pants. No tee-shirts, no runners or jeans.”
(Story of my life, Mom’s general rule is ‘dress for success,’ or ‘No son of mine is looking like a hobo’ … I still need to find out what hobo is - I gather it’s not a clown like I thought.)
Granpa was quiet on the drive to the golf course, not unusual for him but he looked troubled and it had me concerned. When he didn’t have a set of golf clubs with him I became worried, but he still booked a golf cart, he had me drive down a path until we arrived at a duck pond way out away from everyone.
“This is my secret spot” Granpa mentioned. “It’s where I married your grandma, and where I come when I need someplace to think.”
(He’d never brought me here before, it was nice, tranquil and peaceful.)
“Iain”
(Now I’m freaking, he only ever calls me Iain when something heavy is going down.)
“I need to talk with you, but I’m not sure where to begin.”
(A disclaimer like that has me scared, this can’t be good!)
“Iain … we’re Irish,”
(NOoooo, ooOH! Okay! Not a world ending revelation, no need to panic.)
“The world isn’t how you’ve been lead to believe. Magic is real!”
(What! No! Magic is make believe, the stuff of fairy tales.)
“Most folks aren’t able to handle the truth.”
(Whaddayah saying?)
“Wizards and Sorceress’ exist! They are responsible for all the advances in science and technology.”
Now granted, Grandpa has a wicked sense of humour, he has told some whoppers which laid me out rolling on the floor in laughter. But I know him well enough to figure out he wasn’t joshing me, he was serious. I mustn’t have heard him right.
So I asked: “We’re Irish?”
(I know, I know, but follow the logic - if he felt us being Irish was more important than magic being real, I’m figuring the rest will sort itself out.)
“The Irish have a special connection to magic, we’re doubly blessed with it. It’s nothing at all like those Herman Pottymouth stories you liked.”
“Harry Potter.”
(I shouldn’t have corrected him, he gave me a disgusted face - he had been trying to make a point.)
“Same difference! The thing is: Wizard’s are wise, that’s what the name means; wise ones, they wield magic through observation and study.”
“And a Sorceress?”
“They derive magic from a source, like plants, or water, or life.”
“How?”
(I’d take any info right now to help sort out the confusion I felt.)
“I’m a Wizard Iain, your Granma was a Sorceress.”
“But …”
(I need time to process this, I’m kinda at a loss here.)
“Was?”
“My wife, your Granma, her magic was stolen.”
(I’m hoping there’s a story here, cause this ain’t sitting right.)
My inquisitive look seemed to be the cue he needed.
“All folks have a smattering of magic, most never come into it and go through their lives unaware of magic and its influence. A few of the lucky ones get just a taste of magic, a door of inspiration is opened and from that wee spark we’ve gotten things like magnificent art, literature, and music.”
“What causes some to have magic, while others don’t?”
“Good on ya boy, you’ve got your head in the game.”
(I’m glad he thinks so, I feel like I’m grasping at straws myself.)
“They find a trigger, something sparks their imagination and lets the magic flow.”
“A trigger? What triggers magic?”
“That’s as fine a question as I could hope. A trigger can be a thing, a place, even a person. My trigger is this spot, I found it by accident and that started me on the path to becoming a Wizard.”
“For others, well: have you ever wondered why there are so many love songs? When a boy meets a pretty girl and their hearts get filled with love - that’s raw magic. Now, imagine if that boy is so smitten that he writes a song about his beloved - he found his trigger, magic has inspired him.”
“So if being talented is magical, does that mean everyone can become Wizards?” I figured it had to so.
“It just means that someone has been attuned to magic. No, a Wizard can feel magic, use its ebb and flow, they are in harmony with it.”
“Like a Jedi Knight!”
“Yes, just like a Jedi…You lost me boy! What in the Sam Hill is a Jedi Knight?”
“The Jedi, the force lets them sense stuff and move things with their minds, and they’ve got these cool light sabres.”
“An here I thought all that nonsense about leprechauns and elfs filled peoples heads with porridge.”
“If there’s magic, there’s gotta be leprechauns and fairies!”
“No boy, them stories are told to explain away all the amazing things that Wizards and Sorceress’s can do, misdirection to protect the truth.”
“So what can Wizards do?”
“My boy, it’s better to ask what Wizards can’t do. Some control the weather, others can walk under the sea, turn lead into gold and back again, design wondrous machines, perform unparalleled feats of strength and endurance.”
“You can do all that?”
“No, each Wizard has his own specialty. Have you ever heard of a ‘Johny-on-the-spot’?”
“Nope.”
“It describes someone that can solve any problem as it arises. That’s what I am, as the need arose I could run faster, swim further, ski, sail, drive any car, fly any plane. There was no hurdle I couldn’t overcome.”
“So computers?”
“A wizard did it.”
“Cell phones?”
“A wizard did it.”
“Cars?”
“A wiz…
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“You’re sixteen now! It’s the time in life when a Wizard starts to feel the magic building up in him. You’ve had the hairs on your arms stand up from static electricity … that’s what it feels like, but it happens inside you.”
“Until a trigger sets it free.”
“Not everyone finds that trigger, for those who can only just touch magic it’s like an energy drink - gives them a boost. But when a wizard has completely unlocked his magic it takes them to a whole other level.”
“Why keep it a secret, if you knew I’d turn sixteen eventually, why wait?”
“We don’t speak of it cause it’s a sore point in our family, talk of magic would hurt your Ma and Gram. You see Iain: Our family is cursed.”
“You said Gram had her magic stolen? Is it because of being cursed?”
“Aye, It is. Your Granma was a powerful Sorceress, she could see the flow of magic, decipher how it worked. It’s what made her such a good spy.”
“Rewind that, I don’t think I heard you right.”
“Did I forget to mention we where spies?"
“That little tidbit didn’t come up.”
“In a world of great achievement, any Wizard could alter the delicate balance of life, spies help to prevent any one person or people from dominance by stealing then sharing ideas and innovations.”
“You worked for the government?”
“Governments can’t be trusted with magic, can you imagine what would happen if they got their hands on the kinds of weapons a Wizard could make.”
“Are we talking world war one and two?”
“Aye, you struck the nail on the head lad. It was the Swiss that did that.
“What? You’re saying the Swiss caused the world wars.”
“They did. I know! I saw it happen.”
“The can’t be right, The Swiss are neutral.”
“Tell me boy: What is Switzerland famous for?”
“Yodelling?”
“Don’t be daft - not yodelling.”
(You can’t blame me for thinking that, He said magic inspired people to sing - but honestly; I can’t fathom what would inspire someone to yodel … kidney-stones maybe.)
“Chocolate?”
(I’m grasping at straws here.)
“No … well okay, they’r good at making chocolate, what else?”
“Clocks?”
(It was a toss-up between clocks or pocket knifes.)
“Aye, and what are clocks used for?”
(Finally nailed it.)
“To tell time?”
(I was going to say mind control, but that’s too obvious.)
“Suppose what would happen, if you could tell time what to do?”
(Now I’m reminiscing through all the seasons of Dr. Who I’ve watched.)
“The Swiss can time travel?”
“No lad, time travels impossible. The Swiss had designs on manipulating time.”
“Manipulate time?”
“Change events to your advantage. If you knew what would happen in the future you could alter the world any way you wanted it.”
“The Swiss want to rule the world?”
“Everybody wants to rule the world!”
“I’ve heard the song, but the Swiss didn’t even fight in the wars.”
“The world wars resulted from the Swiss futzing with time.”
“Futzing?”
“Messing around with something untouchable had repercussions. When they meddled with time it sent shockwaves back … I remember a world that never had those wars, the grand cities and amazing art - it was … it all disappeared after the Swiss tried to tap into time.”
“Is that how Gram lost her magic?”
“If you’d quit interrupting me, I could tell the story.”
“Of course Granpa, so sorry.”
(Don’t say it! He’s elderly, what do you expect.)
“Your grandma and I had been sent to infiltrate a pharmaceutical company that was producing anti-aging products which hinted of magic. We had gathered evidence of a Sorceress and Wizard who had conspired to infuse time altering elements into beauty creams. We didn’t suspect that the magic we’d uncovered was only a by-product of something more sinister: time manipulation.”
“The Wizard discovered what we where doing and captured your grandma, he tortured her - then began using her to fuel his experiments, he drained her magic to distort time. It took everything I could do to finally free my beloved from his clutches, but the damage was done, she was spent and couldn’t work magic anymore.”
“Before I got Marie to safety, the Wizard cursed her. A Wizards curse is based upon his association to magic, that Wizard’s focus was on beauty so he cursed your Gram with an exceptional - youthful appearance but a child’s mind.”
“Your Gram cannot touch her magic - aside from minor influences, it's why Marie and Shannon are so good with plants, that is their only connection to magic. We found out later, after Marie had been cursed, that your Granma was in the early stages of pregnancy with your Mom, the curse carried over to Shannon, and it looks like it’s getting passed down to your sister Aisling as well.”
“Am I cursed to?”
“You’ve just become sixteen, the age when a person comes into their magic. You’re a full blood Irishman, you’ve got the red hair and green eyes of the blessed. The truth is: We don’t know! … we’ll find out - together.”
“Is there anything we can do for Mom, Aisling, and Gram?”
“A Wizards curse only ends when he dies. Until then all we can do is treat our family dearly and love them with a true heart.”
“Did my father know?”
“Aye, he did! He loved your Mother deeply, he only saw the real woman under the clouded mind.”
“What happens now?”
“Now? Now we have lunch, then I take you to see the Barber.”
To make a comparison between the country club and schools cafeteria is entirely unfair, the country club serves food. Leaving the restaurant Granpa took me down to the clubs foyer, leading me to a door off to the side, I looked long and hard at the bronze plaque on the door since it didn’t make sense.
'Red Headed League'.
Of course I’d read sir Arthur Conan Doyles work, one of Sherlock Holmes cases referenced the Red Headed League. This must be some kind of joke.
Granpa entered a passcode before opening the door, I can’t say I knew what to expect, but I wasn’t all that surprised with the room looking like Sherlock Holme’s study, complete with Victorian era furniture and bookcases filled to the brim.
The room even smelled smoky inside, just like you’re expect from a bygone age that used coal, candles and gas lights, but it was electric lit and none of the people present where smoking, the smell bugged me.
In the rooms centre sat an ornate barber chair, I couldn’t decide if it looked out of place or suited the setting. One of the people in the room hurriedly stood; an older short bald man, he grabbed a smock from off a hanger and put it on.
I was thrown off by the assembly of people, four men and woman. If this is a barber shop, is the woman a hairdresser, if so, why only one barber chair? My danger sense, which had already taken a beating with Grandpa’s little pep talk, was beginning to twinge again.
“Finn, this is my grandson: Iain” Introduced grandpa as he stepped up to the older man and shook his hand. “Iain, meet an old friend of mine, Finnegan”
“Ack! Owen! You know better than to be bantering about with me full name, Finn is good enough, Mr. Finn if your of the mind” He rebutted with humour. “Now lad, get yourself into the chair, let’s have a look at you.”
Talk about feeling conflicted; Granpa has over the years given me lots of good advice, One in particular was to never trust a salesman who didn’t believe in what he sold. He’d explained; ‘You don’t buy a Ford from a guy who drives a Chevy’. So here I am, leery about getting a haircut from a bald man.
Granpa must have figured out my trepidation. “It’s okay Iain, you can trust Finn.”
When I sat in the chair straps didn’t encircle my arms and legs entrapping me as I’d envisioned, and I was even more surprised when a barber sheet wasn’t put over me, instead; Mr. Finn began to run his hands though my hair, massaging my head.
“The boy’s got deep roots, full blooded Irishman he is, has his fathers hair and mothers eyes” assessed Finn. “He’s not touched magic yet, but it’s in there.”
“Can you tell what type magic he has? Is he …?” Worried Granpa.
“Cursed? I cannot say! We have to trust that magic will find a way. It’s too bad our newest Sorceress is feeling poorly, she see’s aurora’s, a mighty useful ability - she could tell us more I’m sure” advised Finn. “How much do you know about magic young Iain?”
“I’ve just been introduced to it today.”
(No kidding; my head is still spinning, everything I thought I knew is wrong.)
“Then it’s high time to get you up to speed” said Finn as he turned the chair around to face the other three who had been waiting. “I present to you Sorceress Connie, and the Wizards: Bruce and Thomas. We’ll be your guides into magic.”
To be honest, I’m pretty sure my reaction to being ‘introduced to magic’ was a mixture of fascination, terror, and disbelief. At the end of four hours, my concept of how the world works was completely destroyed, and I had a new appreciation of all the wonders that until now I had taken for granted: Wizards did it!
The other thing I came away with was a decent haircut, grandpa fought hard and finally won; convincing Mr. Finn to wear his new bifocals. I guess getting old doesn’t diminish one’s concern about self image - But it sure goes a long way to building trust if you don’t get cuts and nicks from somebody not being able to see clearly.
Granpa just about had to hold my hand I was so disoriented, the League’s complex was massive, so he guided out to the Red Headed League’s room, and then out of the Country Club. He paused as we sat in his car before turning to me.
“Iain, everything you just learned, all the questions you’ve got, you have to put those on the back burner. You can’t let any uninitiated find out about magic! And it would hurt your Gram and Momma to speak about magic in front of them.”
“I understand Granpa, What do I say when I’m asked what I did today?”
“Tell them we played golf … and that I won, no point making anyone suspicious” said Granpa with a smile. “Maybe we can say you got a part-time job at the Club, I mean - it’s kinda the truth, what with you starting lessons and training.”
I had to agree with Granpa, I was expected to attend training sessions after school and on weekends.
I sat in deep contemplation as Granpa drove, I think he understood my mood since he would flash me a smile now and again. He parked in front of my favourite restaurant but before he could get out, I asked:
“Granpa, How long after Granma lost her magic did you stay an agent for the Red Headed League?”
He looked torn delving into his memories “I tried to keep at it for a short while, but my heart was no longer in it, my wife needed me. I see how much pain Shannon is in from losing your father, I know I made the right choice.”
We entered the restaurant, and got shown to a private table. Already present was my Mom and sister, Granma, and also sitting there with a huge goofy grin was my best fiend Rueben. I might have been expecting it but it was a surprise after all, so I made a show of it, it made my family happy.
After a fantastic meal - it’s my favourite restaurant for a reason. Aisling handed me a gift wrapped package, from the size and shape it could be only one thing: a record. I was overjoyed when, after getting through the triple layers of wrapping paper, I unearthed not one but three albums, I had been trying to get these for ages.
Elton John’s: Captain Fantastic album has truly amazing artwork and the songs are great too, I was holding a copy still in its original unopened seal. Beneath that was The Cars debut album, still more was Tom Cochrane's Symphony Sessions. So I'm an audiophile; no biggie.
I don’t know how the little twerp did it, but Aisling had found some really hard to find treasures, I hugged my little sister, keeping a safe distance from her bosom, and thanked her repeatedly.
Rueben handed me a package as he tried to keep a straight face, it contained a pair of fluorescent green fuzzy dice, “Congratulations on turning sixteen, now that you can drive, I figured you could hang them - when you get a car.”
Gram gave a me a sweater, I have to admit, it looks very nice.
Granpa gave me Swiss army knife and winked when he handed it to me, I just don’t understand him sometimes. Is it code for alway be prepared?
Mom said my gift was waiting for me at home.
Arriving home later, sitting in the driveway was a Toyota 4Runner, red of course, with a big white ribbon and bow tied around it. Did I mention I love my Mom!
I start my new job today.
I might be a little dramatic in saying I’m starting a new chapter of my life, I spent much of last night thinking about my hopes and dreams, aspirations, plans for the future.
I simply don’t know what to expect, I only hope I have the courage to face it.
Granpa dropped me off at the Country Club, he said he wanted to stay and play a round of golf.
I used my newly issued pass card to enter into the Red Headed League, I was taken by Mr. Finn into an adjacent room set up like a gym, I was put onto a treadmill and had to run hard for a long time to check my endurance, then lift weights and do other exercises so my mentor could assess my overall condition.
I was on the rowing machine when a buzzer sounded, Mr. Finn instructed me to keep going while he left, Mr. Finn returned a short time later bringing with him a tall red haired man wearing a red checkered shirt.
“Iain, there’s a visitor here to see you.” I didn’t know Mr. Finn well but he looked troubled, and that had me nervous.
I was sweaty, my muscles shaky from exertion, and I didn’t know this guy from Adam. But Granpa said always try to make a good first impression. So I stood as tall and straight as I could, and extended my hand.
“Hello, I’m Iain Coghlan.”
(I was left hanging, he didn’t shake my hand.)
“Son of Shannon Coghlan?” He asked.
“Yes.”
“This is for you.”
I was handed a package loosely wrapped in white cloth, sitting atop the bundle was an envelope with my name written in an elaborate calligraphy. I took the bundle from the man and set it onto a small nearby table. Picking up the envelope I turned it over to see the wax seal.
“What’s this about?”
“This was sent to the Woodsmen with instructions it be given to you after your sixteenth birthday. I have fulfilled a Wizards request and await a reply.”
“Mr. Finn, what’s going on?”
“Don’t let his attitude be bothering you none lad. He’s a Woodsman, it’s they’r way. They be the ones to keep magic users in check, like policemen.”
The ‘Woodsman’ didn’t take offence to Mr. Finn’s explanation, but had a keenness to have the mystery message unraveled.
“So what’s with the package?”
(Safety first, for all I know the silly thing could be a bomb.)
“Well, I wouldn’t rightly be knowing until you open it.” Said an exasperated Finn.
It might have been the recent strenuous exercise, but my hands shook as I opened the envelope. The letter inside was handwritten with concise penmanship.
I read it aloud since it felt like the right thing to do.
(What with the curious onlookers breathing down my neck and all.)
“Master Iain Coghlan
As dictated under the Wizards code, I present to you a white flag. Under this flag of truce, I seek parlance for the express purpose of discussing the dispute between your grandfather: Owen Sullivan and I.
I am unable to leave my home, for that reason I have provided travel and accommodation arrangements for you and a neutral companion.
This matter is of greatest import, make haste to accommodate my request.
I am oath bound that no harm shall come to you, a white flag demands such considerations.
Know that my offer is void if your grandfather joins you.
Regards: Leon Tschoepe.”
As I unfolded the white cloth, I found plane tickets to Geneva tucked inside a map. When I unfolded the map it had directions drawn upon it. The flight out was in five days!
I looked at Finn, the scowl on his face told a story, it didn’t calm me in the slightest seeing his angst.
“Do I go?”
“A white flag cannot be ignored, it’s as much an ultimatum as it is a gesture of truce” informed Mr. Finn. “I haven’t heard of it being used for nigh on a hundred years.”
“It’s true, it’s a carry over from the old ways to be sure, but still valid and it’s been properly enacted” finally spoke the Woodsman. “I advise you go, otherwise it places the weight of responsibility upon your shoulders - for not seeking reconciliation.”
“A sixteen year old traveling internationally without an adult present is problematic, you’ll need to choose a trusted companion who isn’t a family member” mused Finn.
The red shirt chipped in “The Woodsmen can render aid if you need neutral assistance.”
“But this has nothing to do with me!”
“It has everything to do with you: the sins of the father fall upon the son.” Instructed Finn.
“What does that even mean?”
“Magic is hereditary, so are the consequences from using it.” My new mentor mentioned.
I don’t like this, not one bit!
If I don’t go, the blame for Mom, Aisling, and Gram’s condition will be on my head.
The worst of it is I’m scared. I don’t know what to do.
I spent all day yesterday at the Red Headed League, between being taught some of the basic’s about magic, and being put through a work-out to test my physical condition. It was like a bad day at school.
School! I don’t remember a single thing from class this morning, I was too distracted to focus, it was a relief when the lunch bell rang. Waiting at our table was Rueben, it was his turn to get food today.
“Your looking a might stressed” observed Rubes.
“Nothing a fine dining experience won’t cure.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble but you came to the wrong place.”
“What’s for lunch?”
“Mashed potatoes and chicken nuggets, and some lumpy green stuff the garçon called salad.”
“You know, I never figured out where one finds the nugget on a chickens anatomy?” I asked holding up one of the oddly shaped bits.
“Trust me, you don’t want to know.” Commented Rueben between mouthfuls.
“Ignorance is bliss.” I conceded before eating a sporkful of potatoes “Gah! this stuff tastes horrible. How can you eat this?”
“Well, you’ve got me there. I put heaps of ketchup on it - so I don’t have to taste it.”
Even after dousing it under ketchup I could only manage to swallow a few mouthfuls, my stomach lurched every-time.
Reuben and I both had Phys-Ed for the rest of the day. I wasn’t feeling great, maybe I had been pushed too hard yesterday, so I asked to be excused. The teacher wouldn’t hear it, she had planed a nice gruelling run across town.
(Oh joy!)
I’m not unfit, in fact I’m in pretty good shape. Rueben however is a great runner, but he held back so we could run together. We had made it to the turn around point and started our way back when I began to really feel terrible.
I stopped several times to catch my breath and Rubes talked me through the nausea. We continued to run after I recovered some, but I started to swoon, staggering, gasping for breath.
I think I collapsed into a bush of poison ivy, the last thing I remembered was that I itched everywhere.
The waking up part was okay, the headache and feeling like I’d gone eight rounds with Rocky Balboa wasn’t so nice.
This certainly wasn’t what I had expected, maybe I’d be laid out on the sidewalk we had been running down, or in the school nurses room, I’d even understand being in the hospital. I was taken aback to find myself reclined in Mr. Finn’s barber chair.
I groaned because the world and its recent weirdness came crashing onto me.
“Easy there Iain, take it nice an slow.”
“What happened?” I know I said it, but I didn’t say it! The voice was wrong - somethings wrong! I’m a baritone - but heard a soprano.
A hand was placed onto my shoulder for reassurance, when I turned to see who - long strands of ginger hair swept across my face, I raised my hands to brush it away … not my hands … my gym shirt but those definitely aren’t my breasts.
The hand on my shoulder became a restraint.
“Don’t panic, you’re okay!” Comforted Mr. Finn.
“If this is okay, then panic is exactly what I need to do” I shouted as I looked down at myself, noting the long slender legs stretching out from my gym shorts … not my legs!
“You found your trigger, you’ve come into your magic” informed Mr. Finn.
(This can’t be right, I’m hallucinating, somebody drugged me. I’m a guy … for crying out loud I’m a guy. I … I’m crying - this is not okay.)
“Iain! Magic always finds a way. The curse on your family may have altered how your magic flows - like a stone dropped into a river, but magic can’t be stopped.
“My talent is to turn into a woman?”
“It appears so” admitted Finn. Then added: “I only ever heard of Wizards who could cast an illusion to make themselves look like a female, and Sorceresses who can enhance their appearance, but this…“ Finn pinched me, making me yelp, “this is a total transformation.”
“Will I change back?”
“I don’t know my boy … Iain … ahhnnn - I don’t wish to be indelicate, but what should I call you?”
Certainly not a problem I had anticipated I’d need to solve today, but Finn did give me an idea “How about: Ann. It sounds a lot like Iain, that way maybe I’ll clue in if someone is talking to me.”
“Alright - Ann, I suggest we get you tested again, to see what’s changed from the other day.”
Change, somebody once said the only constant if life is change, if they only knew! My first change — correct that, my next change was into some of the County Clubs ladies wear and a pair of tennis shoes that fit.
I’m not one to brag, in fact I’m ashamed to admit it, but the girl me was way stronger, faster, and could keep at it forever it seemed. Each exercise I was put through; it was like I could overcome any hurdle and blow it away.
I was beyond nervous when Mr. Finn said he'd asked my Grandfather to come to the League’s headquarters. Being a stranger introduced to your own family is unsettling - I don’t recommend it. But Granpa took it in stride, and did his best to encourage and console me, even if his eyes took on a dark shadow.
Under Granpa’s guidance the testing took a different tack.
I was brought to the clubs gun range, and was handed a pistol. I should explain: I’d never fired a gun before … okay on my x-box I have a shooting game so I understand the principle, but every shot I made was a bullseye, it was so simple: point and click. It was the same at archery, and throwing knives.
Finn and Granpa talked excitedly behind my back, making ohh and aww noises. I threw the large double bladed axe at the target, splitting the block clean in half. I rounded on the two of them and demanded an explanation.
“Iain … Ann, Remember when I told you I was what’s called a ‘Johny on the spot’” commenced Granpa. “It’s a special talent that allowed me to be extremely good at whatever task I needed to complete. You now have that gift too … but I suppose we should call it ‘Janie on the spot’.”
I’ll give the man credit, he was trying to make me laugh, in his own way. I was still out of sorts, but I made the effort to smile. The light that brought to his eyes made a world of difference to me, and him.
One thing about the Red Headed League, they have super nice facilities, being attached to a County Club has its benefits, like huge change rooms for the spa. The downside is that I needed to go to the washroom. Yes, I made the mistake of walking into the men’s room - old habits are hard to break, but I caught myself before making a scene. I felt like a cad going into the ladies washroom.
I stood frozen at the entrance, just far enough in to let the door close behind me, aghast at having violated no-mans land. Avoiding contact I was able sneak past the sinks, and quickly ducked into a stall. I didn’t linger, it was different and I don’t want to talk about it.
I stopped to wash at a sink, “Eep!” In the mirror - was that was me? I hadn’t seen myself before, I hadn’t considered how much I’d changed. I figured I would still look the same, not … I didn’t recognize the face looking back at me.
It was so very feminine, a heart shaped face centred with a petite nose above fully pouty lips.
(I’m cute … why did I have to be cute?)
The longer I looked it slowly dawned on me - I was lovely, the kind of girl that grabs boys attention like a magnet.
I was transfixed, my shattered male ego crying: No! No! No!
I felt rather than saw the girl standing behind me, staring at me.
“Your new here!” she said.
(I’m sorry, but can it get any worse? It’s Kelly Brennan. I’m sure I heard an evil cackle echoing around in my skull.)
“Yeah, just started coming a couple days ago.”
I don’t know what I did wrong, next thing I knew she had spun me around and pinned me against the counter, snarling in my face.
“I was only out of the game for a couple days, you have no right to sashay in here and stake a claim.”
(What to do? What to do?)
“Okay. Hadn’t even crossed my mind.”
(Honestly I had no clue what this was about, but how to find out without escalating a confrontation.)
“I’m no claim jumper.”
“Just so we understand each other, sister!”
(Not much help, when is it ever easy.)
“What’s the prize you’re after?”
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
“A Wizard is expected to come into his magic soon, I gave the sisterhood notice of intent.”
“A Wizard?”
“I saw your aura, you’re a magic wielder. Of course I’m going to be suspicious of a new girl in town. Especially after someone tried to poison me … to get me out of the way.”
“I’m sorry to hear you were poisoned - I just went through a bout with something that disagreed with me.”
“Witchbane?”
“Sounds nasty!”
“Somebody slipped it to me, it stole my talent until it worked its way outta my system.”
“Glad you got over it” I confided.
(At the carnival! That’s why she had been so sick! Wait! Took her talent. Could Witchbane turn me back to a guy?)
“What is Witchbane, some kind of drink?”
“A green leafed herb, kinda looks like mint but smells awful … you’ve not been keeping up with your Sorceress botany lessons?”
“My family didn’t think I carried the magic gene, so I hadn’t known about magic until I turned sixteen.”
“That’s rough! My mom has been teaching me since I was little, but I only found my trigger a short while ago.”
“Good for you, I’m still working on mine.”
“But your aura is so strong, you must have hit your trigger.”
“Yeah … but we don’t know what it is.”
“Had you met someone new, eaten something different?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Trust me, you know when it happens. Look, I’m sorry about getting rough with you … I haven’t been myself lately.”
“Think nothing of it, I know exactly how you feel.”
“Kelly” was offered with an extended hand, and a smile that could launch a thousand ships.
“Ann.” I replied, shaking her hand.
(I think I smiled back, I kinda zoned out there - that smile! Guess I might still be guy after all.)
“I’m taking a self defence class, There’s room for one more if you want to come?”
I looked down at myself and said something like “Ahh?”
“Don’t worry, I've got an extra leotard.”
(Sure, now I’ve got something else to worry about!)
Let me be honest, my only experience with spandex was a pair of socks of mine which had thirty percent spandex in them. The leotard Kelly lent me - one hundred percent spandex! Bright pastel colours in a jagged pattern, something Jane Fonda made popular in her workout videos.
Mom called these things cat-suits, I always though they looked great - but I’m a guy … at heart anyway. Seeing a girl in skin tight clothes, that’s a win in my books.
You know, they are surprisingly easy to put on, quick too, as long as you don’t confuse the arms and legs. Snug, but great freedom of movement. No place for concealed weapons however … unless breasts count. Yeah, those are devastatingly effective against guys.
Kelly grabbed a towel on her way out, I did likewise but wrapped it around my waist as a skirt. I was shown into a room that had glass hung along one wall, the floor had mats spread out and an assortment of women had gathered.
Just a step behind Kelly and I came the instructor, an average sized lady, well toned, her blonde hair tied back in a pony tail. I was tossed an elastic and fumbled a bit with my hair until I also got it into a pony tail, glad to have watched Aisling make that maneuver.
We were lead through some warm up exercises, then made to follow the instructor doing mock punches and kicks. When asked to take a seat, we formed a ring on the mats, the instructor then selected one of her pupils to step up and they sparred in slow repeated motions, showing us moves to knock down or throw an opponent.
We got paired up, and set about sparring with each other; Kelly was my opponent. She was good - very good in fact, at first I just let the magic flow and deflected every blow she sent my way. I could see every hint of an opening, every misstep, any evidence of unbalance or weakness … Janie-on-the-spot! I can rise to any challenge.
I stood in a ready stance, waiting. Kelly dropped her hands, and stepped closer.
“What colour belt are you?”
“My favourite is a reversible grey leather one.”
“You’re toying with me! I take martial arts lessons, and I haven’t been able to lay a finger on you.”
“My grandfather taught me to defend myself.”
“Your aura says you’re a master.”
“I’m sorry, I need to ask, did my aura change? I think it might be my talent?”
“It did!” She claimed in amazement. “It just went back to normal … like before … but no Sorceress can alter her aura.”
“We’re still trying to figure it out. I didn’t mean to offend you, I think I’d better go.”
Grabbing my arm, preventing me from fleeing she snarked “What? You going to turn into a pumpkin at the stroke of seven thirty?”
“I just might” I retorted. Realizing Finn and Granpa would be expecting me. “I’m late, I’ve really got to go.” I slipped out of her grip, dashing away but called back to her “I’m sorry.”
Getting out of the leotard was just as easy as getting in them, although I didn’t risk the change room and found a broom closet instead. I stuffed them into a bag after putting on my track suit, then caught up with Granpa and Finn at the League. Granpa was in the barber chair getting a trim.
I took one of the nearby chairs and nervously wrung my hands as I looked at the floor.
“What’s wrong Iain?”
You know, I’m glad he got my name wrong, it gave me a sense of normal in a mixed up crazy world.
“What am I supposed to do? I can’t go home and let Mom see me like this.”
“I was thinking you could stay with your Gram and I, I could say you’re a long forgotten relative.”
“But what would you tell Mom to explain my disappearance? She’ll be devastated!”
“I don’t know. It’s true, Shannon loves you as dearly as life itself.”
“I was wondering about trying something? Something risky!”
“Name it?” Responded Mr. Finn
“If I tried a little Witchbane, it might negate my talent, make me a boy again.”
“That’s more than risky, it’s down right suicidal … and we don’t know if you’ll ever find your trigger again.” Cautioned Mr. Finn.
“I’d rather be there for Mom and Aisling, then be touched by magic.”
“I knew you had a heart in yah my boy” Granpa said as he hugged me tight. “I’m proud you grew up right.”
“I’ll go check and see if the Sorceresses keep any Witchbane in their den” said Mr. Finn, with a touch of regret in his voice.
Once Granpa and I were alone, I decided it was time to broach the white elephant in the room. “Granpa, I was sent a white flag. I’m supposed to go to Switzerland.”
“That old … mule! Why can’t he just die and leave my family alone!” My news took the wind out of his sails, he slumped - sighing deeply.
“I don’t want to go!” I confessed to the now distraught man. “But if there’s even a slight chance to help Mom and Aisling, and Gram … I have to go. But I can’t go like this” as I motioned to my non-male physic.
“Aye, I see your point. You’re a brave one: Iain Coghlan, I’ll give you that! When do we leave?”
“Granpa! That’s a problem, if you come - the meetings off. I wish it otherwise. But I could sure use your help.”
“What do you need?”
“Tell me everything you can about Leon Tschoepe.’
Mr Finn had returned with a tiny glass vial, under the rubber stopper was contained a small amount of dried green flakes: Witchbane! Even while both men spoke about what I could expect from meeting with the Swiss, my attention always wandered back to the vial.
“No point dragging this out” proclaimed Mr Finn. “Set yourself in the chair, let’s see what will come of it.”
Mr Finn held the vial at arms length and removed the stopper, he passed the Witchbane under my nose, telling me to only take a small whiff. It had a pungent smell, bitter and nauseating. I sneezed, then had a sudden - violent convulsion. It felt like static electricity: every hair had stood on end, but it ebbed.
I looked at my hand - my hand! It worked.
There is something to be said about having a sense of control, too much lately had been entirely out of my control, I felt helpless, like no-one was driving this crazy bus called life.
I don’t think it fair to say I had it under control just yet, but I had direction, and I feel good about that.
There is a certain safety about school, sure it’s broken into cliche’s and you have to keep to your own territory, but once set - those boundaries begin to feel comfortable. I wasn’t feeling it today - comfortable that is. It was like I was being watched, that un-nerving suspicion someone was following me.
It was my turn to get Rubes and my lunch’s. Shuffling along in the lunch-line, I saw it! Yesterday’s leftovers: mashed potatoe and turnip! I’m allergic to turnip! Could it be?
I nearly forgot to get Rubes his requisite stash of ketchup in my haste. But our designated table was vacant and awaited, Rueben would get out of metal shop in a couple minutes, so I sat, and began to nibble. Beans and wieners - yum!
(Gag me with a spork!)
The degree of shock I felt can only be measured against the abject fear that accompanied it. Kelly Brennan sat down across from me, putting her lunch tray on the table.
“Feeling better?”
(She’s talking to me! Play it cool Iain! She’s just a girl … yeah right! If I believe that line for a second there’s a guy who wants to talk to me about some swamp land for sale.)
“I’m holding my own, but lunch will be the deciding factor.”
(She giggled, how sweet a sound.)
“My Mom always says to eat what’s on my plate; there’s a lot of starving people in the world. I don’t have a problem sharing, but this stuff is cruel and unusual punishment.”
“I believe all our worst enemies got together to devise this schools menu plan.”
“You have that many enemies?”
“My arch nemesis is Lunch-lady Doris.”
“I thought her name was Bernice?”
“All part of her clever plan.”
“What plan is that?”
“To provide healthy and nutritious meals.” Interjected Rueben as he sat beside Kelly.
“Isn’t it nice when an evil plan doesn’t come together” Kelly said with a smile. “You got back to school okay yesterday?” She asked of Rueben.
“No detention, so I’m good. How about you Iain, what happened at the doctor’s?”
“I’m thinking it was food poisoning, I’ve got a severe allergy to turnips ever since I was little. I found out they put turnip into the potatoes yesterday.”
“It’s a good thing Kelly was at home. When you passed out, I dragged you to her place, and she called a doctor.”
“Thank you, both of you.”
Kelly was looking at me with an intensity that put me to worry, Rubes however had doused his plate under ketchup and been shovelling it in. I gave a weak smile and stabbed my lunch, hoping it was well and truly dead.
I nearly burst into the Red Headed Leagues facade room, Mr. Finn was napping in his barber chair.
“Turnips!” I shouted.
“Hate them” he replied.
“Me too! But I bet they’re my trigger.”
“Can’t be, it’s gotta be something you love.”
“You’ve said magic always finds a way. Because of the curse; maybe my magic is twisted, I hate turnips, but I ate turnips yesterday! Mom tells a story of feeding me turnips when I was a baby, I broke out in a rash and screamed for days.”
“We can find out in a hurry.”
As it happens, all I need to do is nibble a little turnip, and my talent is activated - I become a girl, a Janie-on-the-spot. Mr. Finn couldn’t believe how perfect a disguise my talent would be, matched with the Janie-on-the-spot ability. He made me swear not to tell anyone.
“Mr. Finn, what does it mean for a Sorceress to issue a notice of intent?” I interrupted our training session to ask the question that had been bugging me.
“For magic to flow unimpeded, there needs to be two, a Wizard and a Sorceress. It’s a give and take relationship - Yin and Yang. A notice of intent is the way for a Sorceress to express an interest in a Wizard as a partner.”
“Is it general knowledge?”
“I should say so, it’s put up on the notice board down the hall.”
“Excuse me please” I said as I ran out of the room.
Sure enough! There it was. Posted on the notice board: ‘Sorceress Kelly Brennan is formally expressing interest in exploring a pairing of magical talents with Iain Coghlan. A response is sought at your earliest’.
(I’m such a dummy! A damn lucky one - but still a dummy none-the-less.)
I returned to collect Mr. Finn, and asking him to take me to the Sorceress training area. I spotted Kelly right away and we walked over to the table she was busy blending ingredients with a mortar and pestle.
“Kelly, can we have a word?”
She smiled, a silly little smirk as she tossed aside her smock. She got the attention of her teacher who excused herself from the class and joined us, Kelly introduced us to her Mother. She took us to a little meeting room off to the side.
Mr. Finn closed the curtains, before taking a seat.
“Kelly, I just saw your notice on the bulletin board. I’m sorry I didn’t know about it sooner. I don’t understand about things like that.”
“Go on” encouraged Mrs. Brennan.
“There’s something you need to know, something that needs to be shown for you to believe.”
Mr. Finn handed me a dried turnip chip.
The transformation had become nearly painless, and almost instantaneous. I was glad to be wearing a track suit, it wasn’t a great fit, but it left no doubt that I had become a girl.
Kelly’s Mom sat staring at me in complete disbelief, Kelly for her part had her hands on the table and had leaned far forward as she said: “I knew it, I knew it, I couldn’t figure how - but I knew it!”
In my smooth soprano voice I said: “You deserve to know what kind of Wizard you would be teaming up with.” I don’t know how I kept my jumbled emotions out of my voice.
“There are no female Wizards” stated a confused Mrs. Brennan.
“Until now!” Confirmed Mr. Finn. “It’s unprecedented, no-one will suspect it’s even possible. I will hazard to say Iain … Ann will be revolutionary at under-cover missions. All that’s missing is a Sorceress of great skill - one who can see aura’s would be an invaluable aid.”
“I won’t let me daughter be exposed to such danger!” Claimed Mrs Brennan, until Kelly put her hand on her mother’s arm, quieting her rant.
“Mom, it’s what you’ve prepared me for, it’s what I need to do. What must be done.” The woman collapsed onto her daughters shoulder crying aloud, but couldn’t deny that her baby was growing up.
Granpa was true to his word, he came up with a good cover reason for me to fly to Europe. I’d won a trip to attend a discourse and exhibition about Otzi, the frozen copper age man found high up in the Alps. I almost wish it was true, that would be neat!
The drive to the airport was harsh. I felt terrible lying to Mom about the whole thing, and we hardly spoke. Aisling was bubbly and excited for a trip to the city, she only saw it as a shopping trip. All too quickly they were giving me the boot at the airport, Aisling was just slightly annoyed at the interruption to her shopping. It’s all a matter of priorities I suppose.
Mom stopped at the departures gate, giving me a long, tender hug. I don’t care what you think of me: I cried! Okay! I’m about to step into the unknown, and I’m sacred.
I met up with my Woodsman accompaniment in the terminal, he was easy to spot with his red flannel shirt. A tall muscular fellow, he introduced himself as Huck Jones. What kind of parent saddles a kid with name like Huck?
It was nice to be put into first class, the long flight ahead of us would at least be comfortable. My Granpa’s bias against the Swiss had me slightly on edge, we were flying Swiss Air.
I had been staring at my unknown companion: deep in thought, when he finally cracked and talked to me.
“What?”
“Why did you become a Woodsman?”
“Woodsmen are un-matched Wizards, we never paired with a Sorceress - or lost our partner. We still use magic, but not to the same extent a paired Wizard can. It’s an honourable role bringing harmony to the world.”
“Had you ever been paired to a Sorceress?”
“No!”
“Is your name really Huck?”
“It’s abbreviated.”
“What’s it abbreviated from?”
“I go by Huck.”
“Come on. Tell me.”
“You should get some sleep.”
“Oh sure: tell the kid it’s his bedtime - it’s only two in the afternoon.”
“It will be after midnight when we land.”
“I’m not tired.”
(Should have kept my yap shut, he snapped a little pill case under my nose and it was lights out.)
Four hours later I woke, Huck was reading a novel in the chair beside me.
He dropped his book in exasperation after I’d been staring at him.
“Huckabee?”
“No!”
“Huckster?”
“That’s not even a name.”
(I heard the snap and was in lullaby land.)
Four hours later I was awake again, Huck had gotten a blanket and was laying with his eyes closed. He groaned under my gaze.
“Huckleberry?”
“No!”
“Huxley?”
“No! If I tell you will you leave me alone?”
“I’d really like to know your name.”
“Chuck.”
My Woodsman guardian: Chuck Jones turned over, making a show of it.
(It was only an act of course - he was uncomfortable and fidgeting. I gave him a minute, knowing he wasn’t asleep.)
“That’s not much of an abbreviation, I mean, isn’t Chuck a nickname for Charles?”
“My name is Chuck! Just leave it alone.”
“Why wouldn’t you want to be called Chuck?”
“I’m a Woodsman! It’s not possible for a Woodsman to have a worse name.”
“I get it: How much wood can a woodchuck chuck, if a woodchuck could chuck wood.”
“Wow! Never heard that one before.”
“Where do you get those sleepy-time pills?”
“My Mom makes them, she’s great at making potions.”
“Thank you for them, I would have been a nervous wreck by now if you hadn’t used them.
“I know kid. You’ve been put in a tough spot. I may have to stay neutral - but I’m also here to make sure nothing happens to you.
“I appreciate it.”
(I let him be, I guess being neutral means being detached, getting involved forces you to take sides.)
I listened to a channel about the history of rock-n-roll, informative but I might have missed snippets when I dozed off now and then.
It’s hard to get a feel for a place in the dark, I could have been anywhere since all I could see was what the streetlights illuminated. Our shuttle dropped us off at a chateau, we got separate rooms. We would be getting picked up at ten am, I wasn’t tired - but I asked Huck if he could spare another of his sleeping potion pills, I would go stir crazy if left alone with my thoughts.
Have you ever been so preoccupied that you forget what you're doing? Looking back, I might have shampooed my hair three times in the shower. The room service breakfast was tasty but I honestly don’t recall what I ate.
It was while I was looking at Geneva out the window of my hotel room that I noticed my hands were shaking … I don’t think it was a side effect of the sleeping potion either. Looking at my clothes, trying to decide what I should wear, I recalled all the fussing Mom would do to make sure we looked nice.
‘People judge you by how you look. You only get to make a first impression once, The clothes make the man’ my Mom: trying to prepare me to face the world. Grooming me on the outside, while trying to instil in me to be a decent, respectable, and caring person on the inside.
(Mom’s! Gotta love them.)
Mr. Tschoepe had sent a car and driver, it wasn’t a limo, but a high end Mercedes Benz sedan. I had decided upon wearing a sports jacket and slacks, no tie. I was trying to look respectful but not too formal. It dawned on me: Huck’s red flannel shirt was like a uniform for the woodsmen, it didn’t look out of place but if you knew what to look for - among magic users we had a go to.
We drove to an estate, the driver had to enter a code to open the gates, and they closed automatically behind us. The house was a distance off the road, and I caught glimpses of it through the trees. The car stopped at the main doors where a butler greeted us, before taking us inside the large home I draped the white flag over my right shoulder as instructed.
I call it a home rather than a house because it had character, it didn’t feel like a movie set - instead, someone lived here, it just seemed like every item had meaning and held memories.
A woman greeted us, she was all business like a secretary or personal assistant.
The home had a second story but we were shown to a room on the main floor.
The woman … I think she said her name was Melina, knocked on the door before opening it, a lady dressed as a nurse stepped out prior to our being ushered in.
My first impression - not what I had expected!
In my imagination I envisioned a stern man sitting behind a desk, sharp eyes with a long - beak like nose, with either a monocle or those armless glasses with a dangling chain.
What I found was an extremely old, bedridden man in pyjamas. His white hair had been combed but was straggly from it only growing in patches, even then it was sparse. Mottled skin that was deeply etched with wrinkles. His good eye was grey and followed our entry, his other eye was nearly white from a large cataract that had only left the outer rim grey.
He had plastic tubes running up into his nostrils, the oxygen tanks hiss blending in with the beeps coming from one of the bedside monitors, heart rate I guessed. Another machine was drawing blood into a series of tubes then back out, I’d heard of dialysis but never seen it before.
He held a face mask in his left hand, which he had pulled away as we entered, giving us a small if not weak smile.
“You came” he said in a feeble voice.
To hear him I stepped bedside. Melina brought me a chair, then got one for Huck also.
“Mr. Tschoepe. I received your invitation, and I thank you for allowing us to partake in a dialogue. I am Iain Coghlan; son of Shannon Coghlan, the daughter of Owen Sullivan.”
“You don’t claim a father?”
“Sir, I barely knew him, he died when I was four.”
“I knew him you know” he coughed and drew a breath through the face mask. “Your father that is, in fact: I killed him.”
(Oh! How I want to cry out, or scream, or yell!)
“Sir, please: why did you invite me here?”
He eyed me for a long time, taking a long pull from his face mask while doing so.
“Good, you’re not a hot head like your grandfather.” He let that hang, wheezing but not using the face mask. “Are you inclined to hear an old man out, listen to his ramblings?”
“I came at your invitation and your expense. I believe the expression is: “It’s your dime’”.
He snorted, then coughed “Quite right, good one even.” He needed to breath in the mask again.
“I met your father going on twelve years ago, he came to me to restore harmony. I doubted his motive of course - I knew who his wife was … your mother: Shannon Sullivan. But he convinced me of his intent, and confessed he also hoped to end my curse. You see, he had recently learned he was to have a daughter, he begged me to spare her.” He drew deep breaths from his mask.
“You think me cruel perhaps, Hmmm? I expect Owen told you of my attempt to alter time? Did he mention I was trying to prevent the death of my only child? I suppose not!” He rested for a moment.
“Elena was just inches from my grasp when Owen ruined everything: breaking into my lab, disrupting my carefully constructed balance, his interference cast upheaval upon time itself - it sent shockwaves into the past and the future.”
“I was told history changed, how there hadn’t been the wars - not in the world Granpa knew.”
“It’s true, I remember it also.” confirmed Mr. Tschoepe.
“My Grandparents had been sent because there was traces of magic in the products you produced.”
“I don’t deny it! To establish a successful business people need to see results, between my wife’s Sorcery and my own Wizard talent, we made beauty aids that where miraculous.”
“Because they were magic?” Inquired Huck.
“Yes Woodsman, shocking isn’t it. Hearing a Wizard confessing to breaking the sacred code; revealing magic to the mundanes. None of my customers complained, only when we had formulated non-magic laced products did they demand a return to the old recipe.” The old man had gotten too worked up, he laid still, regaining strength and breathing with the masks aid.
“I apologize for getting sidetracked, we had been speaking about your father.” He turned his head to look directly at me. “When your father came to me, he had been dispatched by a Wizard with foresight, he carried news of World War Three, the result of a shockwave into the future.”
“Without the aid of my wife, my Sorceress, my magic was too diminished for me to restore balance.”
“What happened to her?”
“What do you know of balance Iain”
“It’s an equalizing, like a Teeter Totter.”
“As your grandmother stayed young, my wife grew old. She only lived for five years after that day.”
(The pieces fell into place.)
“It isn’t a curse, it’s an imbalance of magic!” I blurted out.
“Clever! For one so young. Why is it only the young see truth while age focuses on lies. I choose well in seeking you out.” The sickly man breathed through the mask, and the beeps stabilized. “Woodsman! What is the difference between harmony and balance?”
“Balance is achieved by the exertion of equal force. Harmony comes when both sides are equal and at rest.” Responded Huck like he was quoting verse.
“Your father and I could only achieve balance, smoothed out the ripples in time, which prevented the onset of another war.”
“But, you said your magic was diminished. How did you …?”
“Gather enough magic? Woodsman! prepare to hear my confession: I used dark magic!”
“You are damned!” Emoted Huck, the most I had ever seen him react.
“What care I of your damnation? Compared to witnessing the destruction of civilization, the weight of millions of deaths on my shoulders, being unable to save my child … my Elena. Watching my wife turn to dust. Your damnation means nothing - because I was given the chance to be a saviour!” He gulped for air, the mask didn’t seem to suffice, only after he settled could he resume.
“I took that chance, and I took a man’s life so billions might live. In the end that Lumberjack begged me to infuse his blood into me. He gave his life, his magic: so I might save us all.” He slumped, weak from the effort.
“You killed a Lumberjack?” Said an appalled Huck.
“Am I missing something, so what if my dad was a lumberjack?”
“Among the Woodsmen, Lumberjacks are our commanders, the best and the brightest.”
“He was brave, of that there’s no doubt. He asked only one thing in return thou, that I find away to restore harmony … that is why you’re here. For true balance to be achieved, for there to be perfect harmony: I must die! I must die by the hand of a Sullivan and a Coghlan Wizard.”
“What? No! I can’t … kill somebody.”
“You must! The balance I achieved is tenuous, to seal it in place the final piece must be set, you are the keystone.”
“I won’t do it!”
“I managed to stay alive these last years, it’s only these machines keeping me going now. I waited for you to turn sixteen - become a Wizard. Iain: I promised your father! It’s now my turn to beg, just as your father did of me: take my life - please!”
“No … I’m … no”
“Over in that corner you’ll find many different weapons, pick one and finish me. If I die otherwise your family remains unbalanced … think of your sister!”
(Low blow! If I did something like that I’d never be able to look at my sister again … or Mom, or myself - both of me.)
“No!”
(I’m sorry sis.)
“Be absolutely certain young man, balance might only hold a short while without harmony.”
“I’m sure! I hold life - any life as precious, I don’t know what tomorrow may bring - but today I will do no harm, and I’ll deal with whatever consequences come … life finds a way.”
“Return the flag of truce to me, our parlance is done. Begone!”
I removed the white cloth from over my shoulder, and laid it at the foot of his bed. His eye’s cold stare following me as Huck and I left the room.
“Mr Coghlan!” I froze midway out the door. “Kindly turn out the lights, I’m tired and wish to go to sleep.”
I reached up to flick the switch, as I dropped the toggle I got a slight static shock from touching it, but noted that the room went dark. I spun round, it was dark - but quiet too, the beeping and hissing had stopped.
I tried the light switch, moving it up and down - but nothing happened, the lights stay off.
A hand was gently laid on my shoulder “Mr. Coghlan, It is how Leon Tschoepe intended it, he had the lights rigged as a deadman switch, all power is off.” Informed Melina
“I … I’m a murderer!” I gasped.
“I will notify the doctor that Mr. Tschoepe died in his sleep, and I believe this gentleman will attest that you never raised a finger against him” Intoned Melina.
Huck nodded his assent. My head was spinning.
“Mr. Coghlan, please sign here.” Melina placed a clipboard into my hand, pointing to a line on a page while waiting for me to take the offered pen.
“What is this?” I was too dumbstruck to comprehend the situation.
“It’s to notify the companies board of directors that you are the new owner, and that all of Mr. Tschoepe’s assets transfer over to you.”
“But?”
“It was Mr. Trchoepe’s request, he had no heirs. I have been tasked to ensure his will is enacted. The company jet is waiting to take you home, let me walk you to the car.”
I don’t remember leaving the house, the drive, getting into a plane. I had zoned out, numb beyond comprehension.
I do remember slumping forward and bursting into tears, it might have started in the car - definitely on the plane.
I was an emotional wreck, nothing about my life wasn’t fodder to fuel my hurt. It all just blurred in my mind: Mr. Tschoepe, Mom, Aisling, Granma, Granpa, My Dad! My Dad; I couldn’t even remember his face, he was a hero! And his own son couldn’t point him out in a crowd.
Yes I cried! I wailed and sobbed until I heard the snap of a pill casing.
I’m sure there are momentous events in every girls life, events which alter her perceptions, her hopes, and her aspirations: Her first kiss, her wedding, the birth of a child.
I look forward to each of those.
Today thought; today I came into my magic!
Mom always said it would be triggered by something I loved, it’s the Sorceress way.
It might be true, I don’t know for sure.
What I do know is, it happened at school. I was in the hallway at my locker when I was bumped into. I turned around and looked up into these amazing green eyes, they’re this colour like new grass in spring, dancing with life.
Our eye contact was brief but it felt like being hit by lightning, I buzzed while my magic broke loose.
He was so sincere apologizing as he backed away, and blushed almost as deep a red as his hair.
It was the cursed boy: Iain Coghlan, they say he’ll never find magic, I think he already is.
I feel like I need to write a song or something.
Luck of the Draw “Bad Fan-fiction Story” elements:
#11. Sudden revelation of mysterious powers that never appeared before, and perfectly resolve the current crisis. (every crisis) - Rose Bunny
#1. You have to be fashionable and inexplicably rich. - Rose Bunny
#19. Every male character has a deep baritone and every woman is a soprano. - Katssun
#25. Females can get into a skin-tight catsuit (or spandex equivalent) in seconds. - Astrodragon
#25a. Nobody looks bad in them. - Rose Bunny
#27. Handguns sure are easy to use accurately and without training! - Katssun
#35. No-one ever gets motion sickness. - Astrodragon
#39. “A wizard did it” explains everything, even in “hard” sci fi. - null0trooper
#58. Nursing homes don’t exist. Your grandparent(s) are awesome, live by themselves without help, and probably have superpowers or taught you how to cook, dance. Your parents taught you none of your unique and special skills. - Katssun
#58A. and your grandpa can kick anyone’s ass in martial arts. - Rose Bunny
#58B. They were also spies. - Katssun
#58C. They are a highly positioned wizard or sorceress. - Katssun
#58D. Grandma looks 40, at most. Grandpa, at least 80. - Rose Bunny
#60. If you have a Mom, she looks like a 20-something stripper, and your male friends drool over her. - Rose Bunny
#60A. If you have a Dad, he’s totally normal, or a lumberjack … he’s not really described at all anyway, so don’t worry about it. - Katssun
#60A1. But you definitely have his red hair, because he’s Irish. Katssun
#60A2. Red hair = Irish. - null0trooper
#60A3. And you Mom’s green eyes, because she’s Irish. - Katssun
#60B. Not that lumberjacks aren’t okay. - null0trooper
#60C. Your 12 year old sister looks older than you, and constantly comes on to your friends. - Rose Bunny
#60C1. And she calls you “Onee-chan!” While squishing your face in her DD cup cleavage. - Rose Bunny
#72. Heels require no training to walk in. - Amethyst
#72A. Boots for women go above the knee. Boots for men are combat boots. - Katssun
#72B. Prosthetics, including bifocals for the elderly mentor, also need no training to use. - null0trooper
#72C. Boots for women are patent black leather, Boots for men are never described, but they’re combat boots of some kind. - Katssun
#72D. Rednecks and cowboys always wear “shitkickers”. - null0trooper
Comments
Incredible story.
Obviously I'm not going to win against this.
This definitely reads ...
... like Part 1. I hope parts 2 thru ?? will be forthcoming.
A twelve year old with DD cups? Poor girl.
BE a lady!
Will there be more it feels
Will there be more it feels unfinished, we don't know what happens with Kelly and Iain
More?
I hadn’t intended this as more than a contest entry.
A single story, based on bad fan-fiction plot devices.
I am not against writing it as a serial, I just hadn’t planed on it.
Will be needing more bad plot ideas to work from.
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I liked it!
I don't usually go for stories revolving around magic but this started so disarmingly and has such a clever title I was sucked before I knew it. Yes it was bizarre and implausible but wanting to know what happened next kept me reading. Thanks for the story.
>>> Kay
So glad you liked it
Even with having so to use so many ‘bad fan fiction’ plot devices to develop a story with, it kept you entertained, that is high praise.
Thank you. Camospam.
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well done
You managed to use all of the elements without seeming to force anything.
Thank you
I feel I got some of the easiest elements to use in my roll of the dice, other authors got tougher assignments.
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very fun
I wouldnt mind seeing more of this
Leap of Faith Contest
Thank you to everyone who voted.
So glad you enjoyed the story.
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