The Meddlers

Photo Credit: Creamy Digital

There were three of us. We three were called the Meddlers because we always got in trouble. I was the oldest because I was thirteen. The other two were twelve. We lived in an orphanage. Not just any orphanage, but a place where the caretakers were lower-class magicians, and they watched us children. They called us the magic children there. It was silly, because only a few of us ever developed any magic.

I was there because my mother died on an overdose of fairy elixir and my father died because he was standing next to her. If you want to be a fairy for a day, drink a fairy elixir. But it can be toxic and it can be addictive and it can be explosive. Mother was an elixaholic. She wasn’t a fairy.

But she could be if she drank some, only for a day. That was the rule. If you don’t follow the rules of magic, you might explode. Or vaporize. Or sometimes you melt, but only witches melt.

I don’t like witches but sometimes I meet one that is sort of nice so then I can’t say I hate all of them.

Father exploded because mother exploded, and nobody can survive the explosion of a fairy elixir.

            

Except for me.

           

I was in a crib next to them. I was just a baby then, probably two years old, and now I live in an orphanage among the other unfortunates. Most of the children here lost their parents to an overdose of magic. Or what the caretakers like to call, “mishandled magic.” My parents were one of them, and according to the town I live in, (I will never reveal the name except in this fashion: ___m) my parents were a fluke of society. If you were a true magician, you would never mishandle your magic. But magicians are too proud to admit that people like my parents, magic workers, are capable of making mistakes. So those people who do make mistakes are called flukes.

No one knew what to do with me. I was meddling with magic by the time I was six. Most people don’t get their magic until they are twelve. If they get it.

            

The caretakers called me the Most Unfortunate, as opposed to just unfortunate. I was not sure why, but I think it has to do with the fact that I didn’t die along with my parents and now I have to live with the pain of their absence.  But that’s what all orphans go through, so I’m still not sure.

            

Let me tell you about my friends. One of them was a girl and the other was a boy. Melinda and Gerbralter. Gerbralter was a little impaired, he couldn’t see worth rat trash, but he was the best marksman in the entire orphanage. Even though that wasn’t saying much, I still think he was the best. His glasses were as thick as rum bottles and his eyes were as cloudy as pond water, but every time he looked at the target, he never missed. Never. Well, once, but I think he did that on purpose. My bottom still aches from the memory.

           

Melinda was a year younger than me but she acted at least ten years older. She always had something wise to say, or courteous, or whatever. She was really nice to everyone, esepecially the younger children, and she was the first person I became friends with when I joined the orphanage. I think. That’s what everyone told me anyway. I was still only three or four at the time. She had eyes the color of candy apples. Green apples, not red, though it sounded like… never bother.

            

My coming of age powers started the first day I turned twelve. Since I was so used to using magic from other sources I didn’t even notice the addition until my soup started boiling involuntarily.

            

“What is that, Dennis?” Gerbralter asked. I had been avoiding telling you my name, but I guess there is no way around it.

            

“Your birthday soup is boiling,” Melinda said.

            

“Is this my coming-of-age magic?” I asked hopefully.

            

A magician passed by and noted the steam rising from my bowl. He flicked the tuft of his moustache and walked on.

            

Of course it was my coming of age magic. That was a whole year ago and I still haven’t made sense of it yet. Why do people get magic and some go without?

            

For example, Gerbralter has been twelve for half a year now and he has shown no sign of having magic. Melinda has a different story.

            

We were sitting by a tree that sheds leaves during the winter. While the leaves kept falling in my eyes or in my mouth whenever I spoke, Melinda was perfectly content. She was content because not one leaf dared touch her. When I told her she had magic she laughed and said I was ridiculous. She said it was only a coincidence.

            

A week passed by and Gerbralter was practicing with his bow and arrows while Melinda and I were sitting next to a tree while he stuck all his arrows in the bull’s eye like thread through a needle. When Gerbralter was tired of shooting he noticed a flock of geese flying toward us.

           

Melinda knew what he was up to almost before he did. “Don’t shoot them unless you plan to eat them,” Melinda said firmly.

            

Gerbralter grinned as he pushed his glasses to the top of his nose and aimed.

           

Not one bird fell.

           

Never before had Gerbralter missed his mark and he was deeply concerned why. “I’ve never missed them before!” He shouted angrily.

           

“Well you did this time,” Melinda said softly.

           

Later that day I told Melinda about her power acting up again. She had made Gerbralter miss. She shrugged indifferently and we never spoke more about it.

           

Today is the last day for the Magician Festival. All the magicians show off tricks they have learned with their magic over the years, or they brag about their son or daughter who has just come to learn his or her magic. The orphanage was never allowed to go to the festival because there were too many of us to keep an eye on.

            

But the gypsies visit our orphanage on the last night. They did magic tricks for us too. Sometimes I got my palm read. I usually went to three or four different gypsies to see how many different ways I’ll die or how many wives I’ll marry or how many ages I’ll live to be. Melinda never spoke to the gypsies. She usually hung around with the little children while the older children had their big kid fun.

            

After the gypsies left I asked Gerbralter and Melinda if they wanted to take a stroll to the lake with me. It was dark but with three of us, and me with my premature magic powers, no one would be a danger.

            

While we were watching the fairy fish glow and jump from the water, Melinda broke her fast of silence.

            

“Dennis, do you think I developed the magic?”

            

I shrugged, “I thought I told you. Of course you have it. Gerbralter never misses and the ducks kept flying by.”

            

“He’s right Mel, I never miss,” Gerbralter added.

            

“But I don’t think I like having magic. Every time I use it I feel…”

           

“Good?” I suggested.

           

“No.”

            

“Powerful,” Gerbralter offered.

            

“No.”

            

We let her think for a while.

            

“Something feels wrong about it,” she concluded.

            

“Of course,” I said, “that’s what the common folk say about us, so naturally we are inclined to think that way.”

            

“No, Dennis, we were not raised around common folk. The caretakers tell us what we have is natural. I’m talking about the feeling I have in my gut, that somehow all this magic is poisonous.”

           

I thought about the fairy elixir that had killed my parents.

           

“Some magic is poisonous,” Gerbralter said, “but not all of it. Especially not the kind people develop.”

            

“What if mine is poisonous?”

            

No one said anything.

            

“Have you ever tried practicing with it?” I asked.

            

“No. It just comes out like an unwanted fart.”

            

Gerbralter and I ripped out peals of laughter. It was one of Melinda’s rare jokes, but she was unusually serious.

            

“I was trying to lighten the mood,” she said, offering a smile.

            

“You still look heavy,” I said.

            

“I have been ever since this started.”

            

Her eye was drawn to the flicker of a glow fish.

            

“Want to go for a swim?” I asked.

           

Melinda shook her head and Gerbralter nodded his. He was already putting his thick glasses on the dock.

            

“How fast do you think a fairy fish can swim?” Gerbralter asked. He was also very good at catching fish with his bare hands. There was something about being underwater that made his eyesight as clear as glass.

            

“Is that worth answering?” I asked.

            

“No,” he said with his fingers pinching his nose. He plunged in straight away.

            

Melinda and I watched as Gerbralter chased fish. A few moments passed and I decided to join Gerbralter. A few more moments passed and Melinda was paddling along side of us.

           

Our fun was short lived.

            

Melinda started gasping and shrieking. Gerbralter and I were at a loss until Gerbralter pointed underwater. I dunked my head under and saw what the disturbance was about.

            

Hundreds of fairy fish were crowding in on Melinda from all sides. They glowed more vibrantly than ever before. When I pulled my head up I saw them jumping over and around her. Their bodies probed the murky water and cast spotty bits of light on her cheeks.

Gerbralter couldn’t keep himself from catching a few of the fish as they flew by.

            

“Bralter! Dennis! Do something.”

            

Her skin was glowing like the fish. Her skin was glowing like a fairy.

            

“Dennis, is she getting too much?”

            

Too much magic? But fish can’t pass on magic to humans. I already tried to do it. The only other ways to get magic was from other people, particular plants, and fairy concoctions.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and I ran to catch her. But water made me slow and magic is only useful if I know how to use it.  Her head slipped under. Gerbralter was near her but he couldn’t see. Not above water. He and I dived under.

            

The fish were covering her like a plague of locusts. I couldn’t see her anymore because the school of fish glowed so brightly it blurred my vision. But Gerbralter was there. He thrust his arm into the massive crowd of light and pulled out Melinda’s arm. Holding tight to Melinda, Gerbralter kicked his legs furiously, trying to outrun fish. But the fish chased him. I could see them following close behind. None of them jumped from the water anymore.

            

But Gerbraler was fast.  He knew how fast fairy fish swam.  He was faster.

He pulled himself to land long before I did. By the time I got to the bank, the reeds were riddled with fading lights. The fish had hopped on land and were dying slowly. I kicked a few back into the water but there were too many. I gave up quickly and ran to Melinda. She was breathing but her eyes were closed.

            

“Melinda, wake up, it’s me, Dennis.”

            

Gerbralter tried shaking her. I steeled myself and gave her a slap across the jaw.

            

“Ouch!”

          

“You’re awake!” I exclaimed.

            

“How can I not be? You were poking me like cattle.”

            

“Sorry,” apologized Gerbralter.

            

“What happened?” I asked.

           

“I had a dream,” she said promptly.

            

“Do you remember it?” I asked.

            

“I…” she paused. “No…”

Gerbralter and I waited as droplets of water from her hair landed on my hand.  Fairy fish struggled on the banks and slowly their lights died out.  Moments later the only light we saw were the stars and moon.

“I will think about it later,” Melinda decided.  “All I want to do is go to a nice bed and forget this whole thing.”

            

Good luck.

           

Gerbralter and I helped pull her to her feet. I offered to carry her, but she laughed and said she would be fine.

            

The next day she looked the same as always and gave Gerbralter and me a hug. She continued acting as if nothing had happened.

           

But something had changed. And I waited patiently for her to remember her dream.