Brian Pratt - The unsuspecting mage

After taking a quick mental check, he decides insanity is not the culprit. But could an insane person tell? No odd thoughts or urges run through his mind. No hallucinations, unless this meadow and that creature could be considered as such.

Reaching down, he runs his fingers across the grass. Feels normal. He again takes in his surroundings. Everything looks and feels quite real. So, if this is real, then what happened? A breeze ruffles his hair which only adds to the sense that all this is real. Closing his eyes he takes a deep breath, holds it for a second, then slowly exhales. Opening them again, he finds the meadow unchanged. He didn’t really expect that to change things, but it’s what everyone does who gets into these sorts of situations.

I’m not in the Twilight Zone. I don’t see Rod Sterling over to the side talking to the viewers. At this point, he would hardly be surprised if he did. Then if this place is not a hallucination, it has to be real!

Holding up the book acquired in the waiting room, he takes a much more interested look at it than he did before. An odd design is embossed on the cover, and the book holds not very many pages. Think, James, think! Let’s for the moment consider the possibility that all this is in fact real. What now? You were brought here for some reason; that goes without saying. Why else would that little creature have been “set” here to deliver the message? Could this be for your benefit? Probably not; it never is. James reflects on various books read over the last several years. Some dealt with this sort of thing and if memory serves, the main character rarely has a fun time of it.

For the sake of argument, let’s suppose this is in fact, a true guidebook on magic. And let’s further suppose that since I was brought here and told to bring it with me, then it stands to reason that I should be able to gain some benefit by the information contained within. Why else would they have bothered? And who exactly are “they?” Realizing some questions are going to have to wait, he opens the book and rereads the first couple paragraphs. Two sentences grab his attention:

Rhyme and meter are the most effective forms of spell construction.

Maintain a visualization of the effect you wish to produce.

Sounds easy enough. What the heck, let’s give it a try. Best to keep it simple. He spies a small stick lying on the ground. Concentrating, he creates a visualization of the stick rising off the ground. Now for the words…

Little stick that I have found,

Float three feet off the ground.

Mimicking the action of a dozen different wizards from literature and film, he raises his hand toward the stick and speaks the incantation. With the utterance of the first word, an odd sensation grows deep within his body. Sort of like water rising behind a dam. The growing pressure is not an entirely unpleasant feeling. The utterance of each word causes the pressure to build. As soon as the last word is spoken, the dam breaks and the power surges forth. He can almost see the magic flowing from him to the stick, though it’s probably just his imagination.

The stick slowly rises from the ground. It reaches nearly a foot in the air before he becomes so excited at the effect he has wrought that his concentration breaks and the stick falls back to the ground with a clatter.

I DID IT!!!! James ol’ boy, you are one amazing wizard! Cavorting around with jubilation, he races over and examines the stick which just a moment before had been floating in the air. He hesitantly reaches out and touches it. Seeming normal, he picks it up and examines the wood more closely but doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Feeling a little cocky, he formulates another set of words, visualizes the effect he desires, then tosses the stick into the air yelling,

Stick who once on the ground did lie,

Stay your course there in the sky!

His verse wouldn’t win any poetry contests; but then, at the moment he’s more into functionality than artistry. This time he is determined to maintain the visualization. With the utterance of the last word, the power once again surges forth. The stick’s flight through the air comes to a sudden halt six feet above the ground. As it floats motionless in the air, James controls his excitement so as to maintain the visualization and not disrupt the spell.

He comes to the stick and grins while walking around where it hovers in mid-air. Moving his hand over and under the stick, such as what a magician might do to prove to his audience the absence of supporting wires, he encounters nothing. He then reaches out and places his index finger upon its wooden surface. The stick moves the barest of a fraction, but otherwise maintains its position. Placing his hand under the stick, he ceases concentrating upon his desire for the stick to remain motionless in the air and it drops into his hand.

“Yes!”

Quite pleased, he smiles at his success. I could get to like this. Then sadness comes over him when he thinks of how his grandparents are going to feel when he doesn’t come home. I may never make it home. Oh my God! What about Dave? He saw me go through the door. How will he take it? I guess the best he can, that’s all any of us can do.

Reaching into his backpack he removes one of the candy bars he had brought along and munches on it while contemplating his next course of action. Savor it while you can. No telling how long it will be before you can get another. Then the reality of his situation sinks in. What am I going to do for food? Shelter? Toilet Paper??? The thought of using leaves doesn’t bother him half as much as it had before that one camping trip with his dad oh so long ago. He smiles wistfully at the memory.

Realizing that leaning against the log isn’t going to improve his situation, he finishes the candy bar then takes a really good look around the clearing to determine by which direction he should leave the meadow. Other than the stream, there was naught but trees and more trees. Each direction looked as densely forested as another.

By the position of the sun, it is a little after midday. Which kind of surprises him as it had only been mid-morning when he and Dave departed the bus on Commercial Avenue. Maybe time works differently here?

One of the things that little creature had said was “to get your sorry butt to the village of Trendle”, wherever that may be. The forest looks unforgiving, lacking even the most rudimentary type of path. He’ll have to forge his way through a tangle of underbrush when he leaves.

Trendle. It would’ve been more helpful if he would have at least told me which way to go! Sighing, he pulls a quarter out of his pocket, Heads- North or South, Tails- East or West. Flipping the coin in the air he lets chance be his guide. He grabs the quarter on its descent, flips it on the back of his hand and looks, Tails. East or west then. Taking the coin one more time he tosses it up into the air. Heads- East Tails — West. This time he allows the quarter to fall to the ground and come to rest. Tails. West it is.

Determining where West lies by the position of the sun, he shoulders his backpack. A touch of excitement mingles with his fear and apprehension. Sure, he had no clue where he was or even if he would ever find his way home. But beneath such a beautiful blue sky on a warm summer day, things didn’t seem quite so bad. He had worked magic hadn’t he?

En route across the meadow to the forest’s edge, he spies a sturdy branch lying upon the ground. After removing the smaller twigs and branches, he soon holds a stout walking stick. Turning back to the forest, he pauses upon reaching the edge. His excitement dims as he stands there about to enter an unknown world. What lies beyond these trees? What secrets may be hidden within? Beneficial ones? Or those less so? Taking a deep breath, he pushes a tangle of undergrowth out of the way and enters the forest.