In English, we wrote short stories that would become the basis of the narrative project. We focused on dialogue driven storylines and providing exposition and plot developments through speech and descriptive language rather than explicitly telling the reader what was happening. We worked on developing good characters and avoiding cliches. The final goal was to produce a short story of about 6 pages that engaged the reader through dialogue.
Scales of Humanity
Purse? Check. Phone and wallet? In my purse. Protection charm? Check. Sunglasses? Check. Going through the typical morning motions at hyperspeed, I grabbed my coffee and some of the burning liquid sloshed onto my hand. My eyes glowed as I hissed out a spell of healing, and I sighed in relief when my fingers cooled. Calling out a quick goodbye to Natalie, I stepped out of the apartment. I slipped my sunglasses over my eyes, the glow quickly fading, and hurried down the stairs to the street. No time to wait for the elevator. I was late.
Once outside, I let the hum of the city calm my nerves on my way to the subway. New York City really is beautiful, I thought to myself with a smile. I pushed my sunglasses further up my face as I descended, waiting to swipe my subway card. Even underground, my sunglasses would stay on my face until the last possible moment, hiding my eyes.
Arriving at work, I had swiped my employee ID and was heading towards my desk when a text from my little brother pinged through.
“Yo, sis, how’s the Big Apple treating you?” I laughed softly before replying.
“Same as it has been for the last 5 years. What’s up?”
“Mom’s been bugging me again about college. I think she wants you to come visit.”
“I know, Milo, and I miss you guys too, but it’s more complicated than that. Fallbrook is a really small town. And Eve is still there. We can talk later; I gotta work.”
I put my phone away, and the rest of the day went smoothly. By 6 I was on the subway home, exhausted. I unlocked the door to the apartment and collapsed on the couch, facedown. “I hate Mondays,” I said to the empty room. I heard Natalie laugh as she walked in from the kitchen.
“It’s Friday, you dork,” She laughed as she handed me a drink. I sighed and took a sip. Ooh, screwdriver. Nice choice, Natalie. The orange juice always reminded me of summers as a kid with my mom and little brother. I smiled faintly at the memory as I took another sip.
“Felt like a Monday. I was late, Claire was hovering over my desk all day, and the penguins are sick again,” Natalie gave me a look.
“Why not just use your magic to see what’s making them sick?” she asked. She picked at her nails, or, more accurately, her claws, before speaking again. “You shouldn’t hide from it. I totally get why you had to in Fallbrook, but people are different here. I can attest to that.”
“Not that much different. Fine, maybe they don’t hate magic users, but all that means is that they’ll use me. I’ll just be a spell factory to them. I don’t want to have this argument again, though. Let’s just enjoy the evening. Emma is still coming over for movie night, yeah?” Natalie nodded and I smiled before standing up again to get some popcorn. “Tell her to bring a horror movie,” I called. “I’m in the mood for something scary.”
“Just look at your eyes in the mirror!” Natalie yelled back, and I fake-gasped.
“Excuse you, my scales are gorgeous!” I heard Natalie start giggling, and in seconds we were both laughing.
Soon, Emma arrived with a few horror movies, and the three of us settled in for a night of binge watching. It wasn’t until the next morning, when I woke up with a pounding headache and no coffee, that I realized just how much vodka we’d drank. If I’m this bad, Emma and Natalie are gonna be awful when they get up. Sighing, I scribbled a note on the whiteboard by the fridge, telling whoever got up first that I was going out to get breakfast and more coffee.
The fresh air helped some, but I still felt disoriented and nauseous as I made my way to the coffeeshop on the corner. Before I could make it there, though, I rammed into someone’s shoulder. My sunglasses bounced off my face and clattered against the ground. Groaning, I bent down to pick them up, but before I could, the man I’d run into grabbed them and held them out to me.
“Terribly sorry, I seem to have bumped your glasses off. Are you alright?” The man was older, with a slight british accent. He reminded me of my grandpa. Maybe that’s why instead of snapping at him, like my grumpy, hungover, New Yorker self normally would have, I attempted a smile.
“It’s fine, I was the one who wasn’t looking where I was going.” Taking the sunglasses from him, my heart sank as I realized they’d broken. Uncomfortably, I tucked the ruined glasses into my bag and, after a momentary hesitation, lifted my head to meet the stranger’s eyes. He was shorter than me, with white, thinning hair and wrinkles on his face, the kind that come from laughing. As he stood and met my draconic green eyes, his ordinary blue ones widened slightly.
Although I was used to it, it still sent a pang through me, and I braced myself for him to either ask for something or back away. Instead, he stuck out his hand. “I’m Walter. Walter Jones. What’s your name, dear?” Thrown off, it took me a moment to reply.
“Alyssia. Alyssia Johnson.” Hesitantly, I took his hand and he shook it cheerfully.
“Nice to meet you, Alyssia Johnson. As an apology for running into you and breaking those glasses of yours, how about I treat you to a cup of tea?” He gestured to the coffeeshop I’d almost reached.
“It’s no problem, you don’t need to worry about it…” I tried to shake him off politely, but he shook his head.
“Nonsense! It’s the least I can do, and I don’t mind one bit spending my morning with a pretty girl,” he winked jokingly, and I had to laugh.
“Alright,” I said as I took his hand. “But I prefer coffee to tea.”
He sighed and we started toward the coffeeshop. “You Americans and your coffee.”
“You Brits and your tea,” I countered with a smile.
“Touche.” We both chuckled, entering the coffeeshop. A cup of coffee later, Walter and I were sitting at one of the tables, chatting over a pair of croissants. I learned he was 78, and he’d been born a few weeks after WWII started. He’d served as a battlefield medic in the Vietnam War when he was 20, after moving to America, but got a degree in teaching later on. He told me all about his life, and I told him about mine. Our conversation lulled, and Walter leaned forward.
“So,” he started, suddenly looking serious. “You haven’t said a word so far about magic. Judging by those pretty eyes of yours, it must be a large part of your life. But your sunglasses tell a different story.” My smile fell off my face and I tensed.
“It’s…really not. I don’t use my magic. At all.” I said stiffly. “It just causes problems.”
“I would imagine ignoring a part of yourself would cause even more problems.”
I laughed bitterly. “Clearly you don’t have magic. All my life, people take one look at my face and either decide I’m an abomination, or a free magic store. It’s always, ‘Oh, Alyssia, can you cast a luck charm for my job interview?’ or “Oh, Alyssia, I could really use a love charm for my date this weekend.’ It got to the point where I could never tell how many of my friends were just using me for spells and how many of them actually enjoyed my company.” I sighed deeply. “It’s just better to pretend I don’t have it at all.”
“Ah, but this world isn’t made of black and white. We’re all a lovely shade of grey.” Walter leaned back with a smile. “There will always be people in this world who are a darker grey than others. But does that mean that no one is a lighter grey?” I frowned and shook my head, unsure where he was going with this. “My dear, this world will always have people who try to take advantage of you. More likely than not, they’ll succeed, since you’re a kind girl. But you don’t need to cut off a part of who you are to cut them from your life. You’re capable of doing that with or without your magic.” He stood up to leave. “Just remember, my dear. You are a magnificent puzzle of everything within you, even your magic. Deny yourself, and you won’t be complete.”
He walked out the door, and I sat there, thinking about his words. I fingered my protection charm as I thought. It wasn’t anything complicated, just a general protection from other simple spells and minor injuries, since I didn’t want to draw attention to myself with a powerful spell, but I didn’t want to be completely defenseless, either. I wasn’t sure he was right about magic, but now I wasn’t so sure anymore that I was, either. A commotion at the window pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts. I looked up, and my blood ran cold when I saw a man with a knife on the street. He was gesturing wildly, and looked unstable. He was holding a young woman by the hair, and I could tell from inside he was about to hurt her.
I was on my feet instantly, though I was unsure of what I could do to help. Before I could take a single step, however, I saw Walter from the corner of my eye lunge forward clumsily and try to grab the knife. The stranger shook him off easily-the man was 78, after all-and stabbed deep into his chest two or three times before releasing the girl and running off. While the rest of the patrons stood shocked, I ran outside and kneeled at Walter’s side, with the woman trembling on the pavement across from me. I pushed hard on his stomach and the blood gushing out and frantically yelled for someone to call 911.
Walter’s eyes met mine and he smiled weakly. “It’s no good, dear. With the amount of blood, he’s hit an artery. I saw plenty of wounds like it in the Army. I’ll be gone in minutes.” I shook my head, a little surprised at the tears that had already sprung from my eyes.
“No, this is New York City, the ambulance will get here in time, you’ll be fine.” I insisted. He chuckled weakly.
“Now we both know that isn’t true. It’s alright, though. I’ve lived a good life, and I got to go out doing something useful.” He closed his eyes for a moment before speaking again. “You just remember what I said. Stay true to yourself.” His eyes closed again as he passed out.
Electricity jolted through me as I remembered my magic. In my panic I’d completely forgotten I could help. He didn’t forget, though. He could’ve begged me to save his life. But he made his peace instead. Would he really rather die than ask me to do something I wasn’t comfortable with? Thoughts whirled through my mind, but one thing stayed clear. This man had gone out of his way to help me and the woman, and he did not deserve to die.
I gathered my energy and focused on visualizing his skin knitting itself back together the way I’d done to myself as a child whenever I fell or got hurt. This would take a lot more energy than a scrape, but I hoped I was up for it. I had to be up for it. My eyes began to glow with the magical energy, and I pooled it until I felt like I would burst, before shooting it out of my hands and into his chest. I slumped forward, panting, and watched in anticipation as his wounds slowly began to close. They didn’t heal completely, but the blood flow had slowed significantly, and I knew I’d done enough to keep him alive until help got here. I stayed with him until it did, watching his chest rise and fall to make sure he was still alive.
After the ambulance left, I walked back towards my apartment, dazed. I replayed every moment I’d ever felt used, or outcast, or treated like a freak, and measured them against every moment I’d ever used my magic. Smiling softly, I pulled out my phone and sent a text to Milo.
“Hey little bro. I’ll see you this weekend.”
I promised myself as I walked into my apartment that I’d bring Walter flowers after work tomorrow. I opened the door and was bombarded by voices.
“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN, WE NEED COFFEE, IT’S BEEN HOURS, OH MY GOD WHY ARE YOU COVERED IN BLOOD???”