Wednesday, June 27, 2012

The Magic Wand

The tall dark man sat hunched over and still. At times he would fidget and move from one position to the next almost non-stop, like a thousand ants had crawled over him. However at this moment he sat very quietly, his head held in one large hand, his long flowing black hair spilling over his face and covering his features. His other hand was quite busy as his long slender fingers twirled a magic wand that he had been holding for some time now.

"Damn!" he said through clenched teeth, and he slammed the wand on the wooden desk in front of him. Blowing a breath of frustration through his thin lips, he straightened up and sat back staring at the useless wand. Why would anyone think there was any magic in this thing? It was hard to understand yet he himself had seen it working, bringing life from places that had none.

But now, nothing. And no matter how hard he tried he could conjur no response from it.

Rising from the chair that held him, he slowly stretched the entire length of his tired body, filling his stiff joints with relief. Thus was the life of a writer. Sometimes there was magic, and sometimes there was none.

Thursday, June 7, 2012

The Healing Tree

Near the dark brackish water it stood. From a wide, round-shaped crown were low drooping branches hanging down into the lake, seemingly sipping the water and emitting a near silent whisper when the cold wind blew. It's tiny leaves seemed alive, flickering in the sun as they held the early morning dew.

What made it stand out was the size of this tree, nearly eighty feet in height. This was not unheard of but very rare. And the color of it was amazing, or to be more accurate, it's lack of color. It seemed to be made of glass. Interesting too were the leaves that it had shed, which had fallen to the ground and surrounded the mammoth beast. They were black as night yet as shiny as the ones that still gripped it's branches in life, and they were exactly what the wizard had been seeking. For it was these leaves that held precious powers of healing when crushed and brewed into a tea.

Collecting as many as his sack would hold, the healer made his way back to the palace where the king lie on his deathbed. He had suffered a deep wound from a poisoned sword blade while battling the orcs that had stormed the castle days ago. The tea the wizard would brew would surely bring the king back to health but only if he didn't die before the healer returned.