A. L. Kaplan

Tag: magic

  • THE RESCUE

    I glare at the man who tried to kill me and spit the grenade pin onto the ground. He and his pals picked the wrong folks to mess with when they abducted Mistress. I’m way more than a little white dog. I scramble across the beach and into the water as the man turns into confetti.

    A little twist of magical energy and my fur vanishes, paws become flippers. I shoot toward the wooden dingy like a torpedo. Too busy gaping at the cloud of smoke on the beach, the four pirates don’t notice me until I transform and land amidst them as a king cobra. My venom splatters the man closest. He tumbles into the water. Ducking a machete, I bite another man. The machete gouges the bottom of the boat. Water bubbles up. Good thing Mistress still wears her magic boots.

    Something grabs me. Not good. I can change shape, not mass, so I’m small. Fur once again covers my body, this time with feline accessories. I twist and slash with my claws. Blood streams, but he holds me fast under the water. Spots fill my eyes. I have to wait for energy to replenish.

    Finally I can change shape again. My new eel form shoots electricity in one enormous blast. The two remaining pirates convulse, then collapse. It’s not over yet. The dingy is sinking. Mistress is too hurt and tired to transform. So am I, but somehow we make it to shore. Mission accomplished.

  • JUST FRUITS

    As Professor Jacob’s wife bit into the last pear in the basket, Michael couldn’t help but grin. It had to be the one he’d poisoned and had delivered anonymously earlier today. All he had to do was wait for her to get sick, then swoop in and save her with the antidote hidden in his ring. Professor Jacob would shower him with praise and get him the internship he wanted. He’d become a hero, the top medical student.

    It didn’t take long for a reaction. Mrs. Jacob began to gag. Foam sprayed from her mouth. Michael rushed forward to work his magic. Everything was going according to plan. That is until he reached Mrs. Jacobs. Her petite hand clamped around his wrist. Nothing in her appearance hinted at the strength that now cut off the circulation to his fingers. All signs of illness were gone.

    “You tried to poison us.”

    Words stuck in his throat.  “What… no… I can help….”

    Her lips curled back. Long white fangs lined her mouth and her usually blue eyes turned amber. “Then why was your scent all over the fruit?”

    Panic made Michael’s stomach clench. He tried to pull free but couldn’t break her hold. Dozens of amber eyes glared back at him when he looked around the room for help. Fur and sharp teeth were everywhere, along with deep rumbling growls.

    “You measured the poison for an adult,” said Professor Jacob. His hands grasped Michael’s shoulders, forcing him to the ground. “Our housekeeper’s daughter was only eight. You’ll pay for her death.”

    Music began to blast loud enough to make the champagne glasses shake. No one heard Michael’s screams as the pack took their revenge.

  • THE POTION OF POWER

    Colorful glass bottles filled the shelves in the small shop, some tall, others not. A few seemed to glow but that could have been from creative lighting. The containers had only one thing in common. None were labeled. Yet the old woman who ran the shop reached behind several to grab this one for Bob.

    It was a long shot, but Bob was desperate. No job, nearly homeless, and the most fantastic woman he had ever met probably didn’t remember talking to him last week. Why would she? He was useless. That small blue bottle was his only hope. If it worked, Vanessa was sure to notice him.

    “The ointment must be used sparingly,” said the woman, as she took his last few bills and handed him the bottle. “Too much and there will be dire consequences.”

    Bob laughed. “Will I grow fangs or something?”

    A toothless grin spread across the old woman’s face, but there was no humor in it. “Remember, you must still find the root of your problem and prune it out. Otherwise it will only fester.”

    He left clutching the blue glass.

    “Bang!”

    Bob’s bottle of salvation slipped and smashed open. His heart raced. People screamed and ran. But Bob acted instinctively. In seconds he pinned the gunman and saved dozens. It wasn’t until the man was hauled off that he noticed Vanessa watching him from across the street. His heart raced as he walked toward her.

    #

    Weeks later, after the reporters stopped asking questions, after endless job offers, Bob stood by the shop with Vanessa and stared at the concrete where the ointment had spilled. A pair of blue eyes gazed back. Jagged glass fangs stuck up from a long crack in the pavement beneath them. Vanessa leaned over the low fence that surrounded the damaged pavement then smiled at him.

    “I didn’t need the ointment at all,” he said. “All I really needed was confidence.”

  • TO DIE AND NOT TO DIE

    “Ever since the day I walked into that specialty shop, a dark fury has twisted in my gut, weaving threads of poison through my body. I’ve been gnawed to a papery shell. Stomach, lungs, liver, kidneys, heart; all have fallen to this festering termite. Now I’m a puzzle with missing pieces.”

    I pause and glare as a nurse checks the machines I’m wired to. Her patronizing smile waves over me, but there’s no eye contact. They’re all like that, waiting for me to die already. It’s been months since I fell ill. My gaze returns to my ghostly guest as soon as she departs.

    “See what I’ve become? A rag doll with no substance. Death rings, but runs when I answer its call like an auto-dialer. I’m tired of waiting, tired of all the well-wishers who hover with painted grins. Their pity is more torment than the evil inside me.

    The ghostly figure tilts its head. “What are you saying, Barry?”

    “I want to live.”

    “You could give in to it.”

    “And become a shade? Never.”

    “There’s a price for what you ask.”

    “There always is. I’ll pay it.”

    Laughter rings out as a glowing hand touches my forehead. Heat rushes through my body. When my eyes clear I’m back in the shop. A young man reaches for a package. I move without hesitation and smack his hand away.

    “That’s concentrated Carolina Reaper juice, you idiot! It’s stronger than a habanera pepper. It’ll destroy you.”

  • MIND GAMES

    Heat beat down on the Kyra’s helmet and sweat ran down her back. She and Hawk had been trekking through the woods all day. “I’m taking this ridiculous thing off, Hawk.”

    “You can’t,” he said. “They’ll turn your mind to mush this close to the radio telescope.”

    She’d been so skeptical of Hawk’s wild theories of alpha wave mind control, but when she looked through his special binoculars, the supposedly abandoned facility lit up like a rainbow.

    “Are you sure this thing will protect us?”

    Hawk tightened his chin strap, then tapped the pyramidal shaped helmet he wore. “Absolutely. There’s a reason the ancient Egyptians chose this form.  Microwaves will bounce right off it. Vanity is a poor price to pay for having your mind controlled.”

    “Whatever,” she said.

    It took another hour to reach the structure. In the center of the dish danced a small figure dressed in green. A gold buckle decorated his hat and a small shamrock bounced as he moved. Sparks of color shot from his wand, making the ground ripple with a golden glow. He stopped and glared with narrowed eyes.

    “Yer foun’ me. Can’t git in yisser minds. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, an’ violet al’ bounce aff yisser clever ‘ats. Ye as magically delicious as de last ‘umans ter visit?”

    A cold wind made Kyra shiver. She and Hawk stepped away from the strange man with the red hair and pointy ears.

    The man licked his lips, then laughed so hard he collapsed. “Ah, de luk on yisser faces. Priceless. Yer don’t nu anythin’ aboyt wee people, chucker yer?”

  • Lost Footing

    Wendy clung to the rock wall twenty feet off the ground. Ripped and bleeding fingernails weren’t her biggest problem. The tingling in her fingertips was.  She bit her lip, fighting for control.

    “One normal date,” she mumbled. “Is that too much to ask?”

    “Are you okay?” asked Jason.

    The cutest guy in school graced her with a smile that only increased her racing heart. How could she not say yes to a rock climbing date? So what if she had the agility of a glue stick. He was hot and she was the weird girl no one talked to. But rock climbing? What was she thinking?

    Every muscle ached, trembled as she searched for a new handgrip. There were none in sight. The tingling ran up her arm. Panic began to close in. She chanced a glance at Jason and his bulging muscles only to find him studying her. There was no laughter in his look, only concern.

    “Wendy, don’t worry about falling. You’re on a belay line.”

    “I don’t want to quit. My foot is slipping.”

    He scrambled sideways across the rock like a squirrel. The moment he touched her, the tingling flamed through her body. She gasped and began to fall. Jason grabbed her hand. A blinding flash sucked them away.

    Instead of dangling from a rock wall, they landed in a wooded clearing. So much for normal. Tears stung Wendy’s eyes. She waited for Jason’s condemnation, the fear that others had displayed at her powers.

    He stared at her, his deep-brown eyes wide. Then he smiled. “Wow. That was one heck of a jolt. Can’t wait to see what you do on our second date.”

  • PORTAL

    Papa?”

    Davis looked at the child. Her pale face smiled as she lay in the hospital bed. Dark smudges surrounded her eyes, eyes bereft of lashes. Tubes and wires stretched from her to the bank of monitors that bleeped, dripped, and ticked. Each sound a symbol of what life had become. His baby girl, barely starting life only to have it cruelly yanked away.

    Eyes clamped shut; he sucked air through a constricted throat. He couldn’t watch anymore; couldn’t bear any more pain. The doorway shimmered behind him. He’d turned away from it during the war and when his wife died. Living through life’s adversities was the best teacher, but what was there to learn from watching a death like this? One step through the portal and this experience would be left behind. He could escape the grief. But if he passed it by again would it return?

    “Where’s that door go, Papa?”

    His eyes sprang open. If she could see it her life was at a brink, teetering; waiting for her choice.  It meant she was like him in more ways than he thought.

    “It leads away, Ariel, around the pain. But it makes you forget who you were.”

    She pursed her lips a moment, thinking. “I think I’d rather stay here.”

    He stroked her skeletal hand. The taut, yellowed skin felt dry. So frail, so young. All he had left. He couldn’t leave her. Every second was worth the pain. Maybe this treatment would be the cure….

  • THE FOG OF MEMORY

    I stare at the old barn through the thick mist. My heart pounds. That barn burned down thirty years ago. Police thought a dropped lighter and moonshine turned that tinder-trap into a lethal blaze. But that wasn’t the cause. I grasp the doorframe; listen to the echoes of the past.

    Popular kids like them didn’t ask girls like me to parties, but I was too desperate for companionship to see the warning signs. Besides, Brenton was cute. I sipped my soda while they swigged booze and studied how everyone stumbled through the barn. Drunk was ugly.

    I didn’t realize just how ugly until a few more sips into my drink. The walls started to spin. I sank to the ground, limbs heavy and numb. Brenton loomed over me, a strange grin on his face. Before I could get up two of his friends held me down and started to cut away my clothes. I screamed, told them to stop, let me go. They laughed. Nobody could hear me. No one was coming to my rescue. Brenton climbed on top of me.

    I don’t remember anything else after that. My clothes vanished. I woke up in my bed, neatly washed and wearing my fleece jammies. Police found three bodies in the charred remains of the barn, toasted from the inside out.

    There’s a good reason I stay away from people, hunt alone. Smoke rises from the doorframe. Flames shoot skyward, engulfing the structure again. I’m unharmed. I never am.

  • SUPER-DUDE

    “Stand behind me,” said Clifford. He pulled on a red hat and cape. “I’ll keep you from harm.”

    I clutched my notebook close. The beating of my heart made it bounce against my chest. All I wanted was to write a story about a modern psychiatric hospital, something that I could get published. The one I wrote about the Northgate asylum nearly got me committed. No reputable newspaper would touch a ghost story. If I survived this riot I just might have something.

    “Out of the way Super-Dude,” said a patient holding a metal pipe. “I want that pretty girl.”

    “I won’t allow you to harm her. Turn away or I will be forced to use my powers.”

    Pipe man and his three friends laughed. My stomach twisted. The guards were dead or soon would be. All that stood between me and this crazed mob was a sweet little lunatic who thought he was a super hero.

    “I’m gonna shove that cape and helmet of invisibility down your throat,” said Pipe man. He marched forward, his face twisted in a sneer.

    My friend shook his head. “You’ve been warned.”

    Clifford vanished. The inmates gaped at the empty space where he had stood. So did I. A second later Pipe guy fell to the ground. Blood streamed from his nose. When the second man fell, his friends fled.

    My hero stood guard until the riot ended. I had quite a story to tell—one that only Super-Dude would believe.

  • S’SERPYC

    Shredded wood bobbles in the water near my oasis of dry land. Cousin Jack’s name blazes across what’s left of his johnboat. My heart sinks. He was supposed to meet me here, rescue me from that demented prison.

    “You didn’t really think this little prison break would work, did you, Bobby?” says Warden Carson. “We’ve had this place staked out all week.”

    I spin around. The warden drags Jack’s mangled body from behind the ancient cypress and dumps it on the ground. One of the warden’s hounds sits next to him, Jack’s severed arm clenched in its mouth. I’ve had first-hand experience with that hell hound and its friends. Scabs and old burns still decorate my body.

    Tears sting my eyes, but there’s no time to grieve. Turning a blind eye before got me sent away on trumped up charges. Carson had to be stopped. My bare feet press into the island’s soft mud. I was raised in this swamp, know things the warden doesn’t. I reach for the swamp’s pulse, the life that most people don’t notice. Energy surges. The hairs stand up on my arms.

    “Help,” I whisper. “I beseech you.”

    Carson laughs. “Ain’t no one here to help you now, Bobby.”

    But there is. The cypress groans, bends as if struck by a sharp wind. Two moss covered branches swoop down on the warden and his pet. A scream—then nothing. I fall to my knees. A mossy hand touches my bowed head, fills me with its power.

    “Thank you, mighty S’serpyc, spirit of the trees.”

    My new path lies back at the prison. This time there is no hesitation.