I am doing a
little experiment. I am going to write a series of chapters in a fantasy
world of my creation and see if it goes anywhere. Since I have not
prewritten this story and have no outline, it will probably end up a convoluted
mess. I do not know how often I will be able to update this or if it will
ever finish. This is the link to CHAPTER 1. (I have also found that I have to go back and clean up
very broken sentences in previous chapters. This is why I need an editor.
I understand what I am writing, but I need to make sure other people do
too.)
Chapter 7: Show Off
Malakite
watched as Pasgard lumbered over to the parasols the tea house had laid out
over part of the dock. The cafe had
opened a section of the dock so that the patrons could dip their feet into the
flowing water of the Color Line. Tiny
river fish would nibble off the callous of feet, making them smooth and tender.
All around
the tottering black man people became aware of him, we was from a very distant
place and that made some of them prickly.
Pasgard had seen worse starting attitudes, "Come young ones to see
the wonders of an old fool who wishes to show you the little bits of fun I
learned when I was not much older then you."
Pasgard's
finger moved like he was signally hidden instrumentalists and distant haunting
music began to play, like a distant fair ground. "This is spooky," said someone
getting up to leave.
"Fear
not young man," said Pasgard, pointing to the little fish. "I seek only to pass on a little
something that was passed on to me." The instruments that previously seemed distant
grew closer. While adults all around
felt nervous, the children looked amazed.
"See
the little fish," said Pasgard, with a wave of his hand the nibbling fish
started to emanate blues and yellows. Swimming
in big sweeping patterns, a ring, a figure 8, 3 wavy lines, then a spiral. Each change prompted by the wave of Pasgard's
hand.
From under
the parasols the light of the midday sun seemed very distant. The little fish glowed and sparkled, moving
faster thru the water like shooting stars.
"When
I was just a young man," said Pasgard. "A wizard did this show, though he used a
flock of humming birds. I like the
little fish. They move in patterns good."
By then
even the previously nervous parents were taken in, as this little area of the
tea house was turning into a surreal bubble of night sky in the middle of the
day, but with an eerie hum of invisible strings, a beat of distant drums, and
some deep feeling of having been made free.
Bit by bit
the lights and sounds faded, the fish stopped glowing and swimming in patterns,
and all of the children were smiling ear to ear. The parents and other adults were dazzled. There was one left over, a little girl with
ragged hair, freckled face, a smile missing many baby teeth, simple clots, and
no parent. "How?" she asked.
"Little
one," said Pasgard, his eyes tearing up.
"Oh that I could be young enough to teach you such things. I have done this show before, and seen so
many smiles, and always there is one left who asks how."
"Why
are you crying?" the little girl asked, suddenly so nervous for the
wizard.
"I'm
sorry little one," said Pasgard.
"My time as a teacher is passed," there was a coin in his hand
that he was making spin. "I have
taught so many before you, and this would be all I needed for me to try again,
but I just don't have the time left. I'm
sorry because I can already tell, you be a great wizard." He then fumbled
the coin. She tried to catch it, missed,
and chased it to the edge of the water, she smiled, turned, and frowned. The old wizard was gone.
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