Sunday, October 7, 2012

From Small Beginnings

To me it's still Saturday.


                 A short, muttered incantation brought forth a sphere of water the size of a golf ball.  With his complete focus on the conjuration, Timothy held it floating there in the air for a second longer before allowing it to drop and splash onto the wooden floor beneath where it seemed to immediately evaporate.  Next was fire.  A similar whispered incantation came forth from his lips, and flame of the same size of that of the water also came forth from seemingly nothing.  Timothy reached for it slowly, deliberately, never once glancing away.  Upon touching it his eyes widened and he pulled his hand back, sticking his finger into his mouth.  Simultaneously, the fire burst, creating a small heat wave that warmed Timothy’s face.  He smiled, pleased and yet also awed.  “Always amazing,” he said to himself.
                Again, water.  Confidently, he spoke the same incantation as earlier, and again the sphere of water came out from nowhere.  This time Timothy held a bowl underneath the orb and continued the ritual.  “Permaneo.”  The water dropped into the bowl, but this time did not disappear like it had earlier.  With obvious familiarity for what he was doing he poured the water into a pot in which grew a single flower with yellow petals and three green leaves.
                Nicolas took a moment to pause and put a hand to his forehead.  Several droplets of sweat made steady progress down his young face, despite the low temperatures of the particular February afternoon.  After getting up and walking around his room a couple times, he sat back down in the same spot in the middle of the floor.  He glanced at the analog clock next to his bed, and nodded to himself.  This time it would be the extended ritual for fire.  The initial incantation.  Out of nowhere came the fire.  Then the second step, “Permaneo.”  The fire stayed in place as Timothy continued to keep it in his gaze.  He brought a candle up to the steady flame and lit it.  Smiling, Nicolas set the candle down and took a deep breath, still with complete concentration on the flame.  “Accelero.”  With that word, the flame sped forward, straight into a sheet of metal that Timothy had earlier set against the wall about five feet away, visibly heating the surface of the sheet as it disappeared.
                “On track so far,” he muttered to himself.  Now it was time for today’s test, what he had been preparing for.  First, water.  The miniature globe of water once again floated in front of Timothy.  “Permaneo.” “Disiungo.”  Bringing up his left hand he pointed at the orb and as if it was attached to the end of a tethering pole, moved it closer to the sheeting.  With his right hand still pointing at the water, he refocused his gaze on the space directly in front of him.   One last time, he brought forth fire.  “Permaneo.”  He took one last, deep breath before softly, but eagerly whispering, “Accelero!”  The fire shot into the water, causing the two items to combine, creating a great cloud of steam accompanied by a shrill hissing.  “Yes!” Timothy yelled, flinging his arms into the air.  “I did it!”
                A minute passed as Timothy sat there, satisfied.   Then came the recognizable sounds of his dad’s car door slamming shut and moments later, the front door opening.  “Timmy!” his father yelled, “Time to get you to basketball practice!”  Quickly, Timothy wiped the sweat from his face, blew out the still-lit candle, and shoved the candle under his bed along with the bowl and the metal sheeting.  Already dressed for practice, he ran down the stairs to the main floor and out the door, climbing into the back seat of his dad’s Ford Focus.
                “Atta boy, Timmy,” said his father enthusiastically, “Excited for practice?”
                Timothy took a moment, considering his words, and finally simply said, “Actually, Dad, I don’t think I much like basketball.”
                Glancing at his smiling son through the rear-view mirror, he chuckled as he replied, “You’re a funny boy.  You get that from your mother, I reckon, heh.  Anyway, what else is a boy of your age going to do with his free time?”
                Timothy smiled to himself.  “You’re right Dad.  I can’t wait.”

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