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Bonus: Sean's Second Sunday Soul

Writing Prompt: While sitting in class you absentmindedly doodle something in your notebook that looks like a rune. Suddenly your book begins to glow. Your teacher looks at you, sighs, and says "Looks like we have another one," then turns and begins drawing mysterious symbols on the board. (Source: @writing-prompt-s blog on Tumblr)

Sean Hughes felt his face grow hot. The other students turned to him, and I wish I could say they were confused and concerned. No, not one of them recognized the symbol glowing from Sean's book, but they didn't care about the symbol. None of them understood what their teacher meant by 'another one' either, but that was also not their main concern. All they cared about was seeing Sissy Sean squirm.

"I--I'm sorry." Sean said, not sure if he was apologizing to the teacher, his class, or himself.

"Nothing to be sorry about," the teacher said, "Pay attention, class. This may happen to all of you once your Sigil Magic develops. This is why carrying your wand on you is important, otherwise these things just start flying off anywhere. It's my tenth one this week alone."

In all that time, the teacher had been scribbling smaller, more familiar symbols around the one that Sean drew. At the end of their sentence, they reached the end of their inscription. They placed the chalk down, stepped back from the board, and placed their hands in the casting position; one palm forward, the other against its back.

"Neutralize!" The teacher cried.

And that's when shit went left. That's when something would happen which would mark the day when Sean's classmates went from calling him Sissy Sean to Sadistic Sean. Sean would find himself sitting in the principal's office, being ordered to explain what the symbol was and why Sean cast it. Sean would only scream, "I don't know" in between tears he and the principal thought he was way too old to shed. Parents would be called, accusations would be made, someone would mention the cops, and Sean would wind up driving home with his parents as they argued about keeping Sean in a Merlin Academy school.

When the teacher screamed "Neutralize," the symbol didn't neutralize. It started to glow a vibrant, golden color that drowned out all other light in the room. Our friend Sean found himself glowing, too. But it didn't feel like the last time he glowed--standing together with his friends in New Orleans and discovering the legacy he'd once thought lost to him—this glow felt different. Sean got the feeling that something bad was about to happen. Unfortunately, he was right.

The symbol exploded.

It wasn't a typical explosion. There was no scent of gunpowder or some other, weird, chemical concoction. There were no flames or smoke. But there was a 'boom'. No, wait, that's not right. Let me try again: there was a BOOM! There was the sound of a furious god striking a gargantuan mallet against a giant drum. There were streaks of electricity cracking through the air, echoing the BOOM! that had just erupted. There was a shockwave of light so concentrated and compact that it overturned desks, sent papers flying, and knocked the teacher on their whole-ass ass! Not their partial ass, their whole-ass ass. And the teacher wasn't the only one on their whole-ass ass.

Every child in the room wound up on the floor. Their ears were ringing, their brains were cloudy, and their hair stood up on end. None of them knew what happened, and none of them cared for a real answer. All anyone cared about was the fact that Sissy Sean, who by the end of the week would be Sadistic Sean, was standing by his desk, completely unharmed. And he was still glowing like a goddamn anime character.

****

"That was Sunday Soul, right?" Tim later asked.

Sean blinked. He'd been sitting alone in the park, trying not to draw attention to himself. It was three days later, he was still suspended from school, and his name was still all over the M-Net. He thought going to a Sublunar park instead of one for Magykals would give him a chance to get away from it all--away from the cops' questions, away from his parents' angrier questions, and away from all the hate e-mails he was getting. The last thing he needed was Tim-With-The-Perfect-Chin walking up out of nowhere.