Disclaimer: Since this is so much a week of firsts- my first science fiction, my first horror, my first bad class test, my first… Yeah, so it’s a week of firsts. So here comes another first- My First Fantasy. Of course, fiction.
Wilson dropped to his knees and started off with the scrubbing again. The only motivation he had was this was the very last patch left, but when you have a hall as big as the Lord Hall, and that too all to yourself to clean till it blinds one with its shine, even that motivation is bleak. And the fact that it was a punishment made it none the better.
Wilson dipped the thinned cloth into the bucket for the hundredth time. And then he cursed, just as many times. If only he had been allowed magic. At least. But he was told he couldn’t even refill the water by magic, and everything, down to the last piece of cloth that broke off from the mop was to be picked by hand.
What use is magic if you can’t use it, thought Wilson, yet again. He was very angry and very irritated, even his crime wasn’t this major. But the Lords had never been liberal. He had expected cooking duty for the next week but not this. And what he had certainly not expected was a reply to his frustrated thoughts.
What’s the use of magic? Well, for you, Williase, the objective is to show just that. And why such an important thing should not be mishandled. The Lords were sure that you would think twice before levitating a bridge next time on.
It was Lord Tahalan. But he wasn’t speaking. But then, he had never needed to. Lord Tahalan’s talent was that he could pick thoughts, dreams and hopes from the air if they were fresh. And the number of times Wilson had complained about the No-Magic condition, the thought must be really strong in the air.
About to finish, Willianse?
Wilson flinched at hearing his real name again. But he knew it was no point telling a Lord to call him by his human name, so he just answered, actually speaking out the words, “Last place, m’Lord.”
Lord Tahalan nodded and progressed down the Hall.
Lord Tahalan was actually distant family. He was the second cousin on Wilson’s mother’s side. But he had never encouraged the feeling and certainly not after he was made Lord. Beautiful as Wilson’s mother may be for a gnomess, it was said Lord Tahalan would never agree being kin to someone with even a pinch of gnome blood.
Wuss, thought Wilson. But he was too loud and Lord Tahalan heard. He turned and gave Wilson a broad smile and walked away.
Super wuss, Wilson thought louder, on purpose, and the distant echo of a loud laugh was heard come down the far exit.
Wilson finished the last corner, placed the bucket back in the cupboard, and made off before another Lord could appear to check his work. Satisfy yourself, thought Wilson, happy that Lord Tahalan was the only Thought Picker completely capable of his skill in the land.
Wilson ran up the stairs to his room. He put on a pullover and took a scarf. The human newspaper had reported snow today. As quickly as he had come, Wilson ran down the stairs and dashed for the door, but his mother had always been quicker.
“Are you crossing over to London?”
“I was thinking more of the Gobi desert actually, it’s snowing out there you see.”
“Don’t you get cocky with me, Wilson.”
His mother always called him Wilson, whatever the place or time. But it was through her itself that he had picked up a dislike to his real name.
Wilson looked at his mother. Her red hair, sparkling like fire, set loose down her shoulders. Her grey eyes, blank as the London sky he loved so, watching him intently. His fair skin, too white for a gnome in fact, giving her the name she had become popular with- Icelly.
“Sorry. Yeah, I’m going to London. And it IS snowing.”
Icelly looked at her son for a moment. He had always been so like her. How could she be mad at him when he was doing exactly the same thing she would have done in his place?
“All right. Get me some snow. Bottled, not in your hands.”
Wilson giggled at the recollection of his last snow gathering, and dashed off to the Tube.
Within seconds, he had paid some magic bonuses and stepped into the Tube.
“Hey! You are eighty pluses short!” shouted the collector.
“I know! I will say my own spell!” Said Wilson and spread the rest of his bonuses around his place in the Tube. He said the spell he had been taught long ago, by his mother.
The magic bonuses glittered and swirled around a bit, like moved by a non-existent wind.
Wilson blinked and when he opened his eyes, he was standing in a London alley and a few human coins lay littered around him. A good investment of his magic bonuses, he always believed them to be.
Wilson never wasted time at sightseeing. He had had a school trip for that years ago and his memory, thanks to gnome blood, was vivid as if he came yesterday. Instead, Wilson set off for the shop he visited every third day by rule. He had already created a fake identity for himself and today he was going to press upon where he had left- his sick uncle who needed the powder desperately.
Wilson used a spell this time. He was in a rush, the cleaning at the Hall had made him late, and the shop would close in ten minutes. He traveled down two roads and arrived at another valley by riding on the wind, but he was so fast that the slow eyes of humans couldn’t possibly catch him. One time, he had even yelled on the ride and no human had heard. He learnt later that they were taught that the wind sometimes ‘gushes’.
Wilson now ran down the last road and hurried inside the shop before the girl at the front desk could shut him out.
She saw him enter, and as she knew what he was in for she didn’t speak to him. Not that she approved, such a beautiful face, she had often thought, wasted on drugs.
Wilson too had learnt that the powder he made these rounds for were something the humans talked in whispers about. It was also illegal. And he was told there were only a few ‘dope’ shops in that part of London.
Wilson quickly made him way to the back of the shop, parted the bead curtains carefully. lest he should break them again and waited in the dark. He was glad that his gnome blood lost much of it’s brightness in the human world or else he would be lit up like a lamp.
And then it happened. Out of nowhere, a small man stepped out, put a little amount of ‘dope’ into Wilson’s hand in a plastic bag, took the money from the other and disappeared again.
Wilson looked down at the powder, once outside. Stardust. If only the humans knew the power they held in their hands. He wondered why none of them had really questioned the ‘high’ they felt when they took some. But for him, it was something else altogether- in the machine that he was setting up to find his dad. The reason his mom let him travel to London so often.
Wilson bottled some snow, much to the surprise of an old lady walking past, and rushed back home.
P.S. I might not be writing too frequently for some time now, my Tests are going on. But I do hope you will be here when I am back. Till the, ta ta!