"Riverh, no!" her mouth is midway open. She leans in a little more after I tell her no and stops. The roses are safe from her. She backs up and sits on her haunches next to her sister. She looks up at me like I was crazy and she wasn't doing anything at all.
"Let's go," both of the puppies follow me. Light shimmers off the top of the shed. The reflection from the solar panels draws me into the run down shed. The house is fully off the grid and always has been.
When my family bought this place they fixed it up improving it planting trees fixing pastures. I work the rotted lock on the old aluminum door.
Most places are off the grid in the backwoods part of Sacramento. Boondocks and farmland, the deeper you dive into the land the more residence of deep magic you run into.
My foot strikes out at the rotten lock cracking it off the door. The aluminum door swings wide on to more of my dust-caked past. The memories overwhelm me. I scrape my mind for all the lessons learned about magic.
During WWII, the magic users were put into internment camps near McClellan Air Force Base. They were suspected by the USA of helping the Japanese get close to Pearl Harbor using magic. The result was the attack on Pearl Harbor.
WESTERN DEFENSE COMMAND AND FOURTH ARMY
WARTIME CIVIL CONTROL ADMINISTRATION
Presidio of San Francisco, California
May 3, 1942
INSTRUCTIONS TO ALL PERSONS OF
OLD KINGDOM
MAGIC
ANCESTRY
Living in the Following Area:
The camps were similar to the Japanese internment camps in the USA. Many people lost everything under the suspicion of magic using potential. It didn't matter if the family was still practicing magic or not.
Magic is a disease.
Magic is cancer.
Pollution.
The words burn my eyes. Painted on to walls in the books. Painted on to houses. Painted on to children. How can anyone hate that much?
"Why is magic a pollution?" I ask my older brother
"Some people are born with magic. Some people learn without being born to magic. They learn from schools or family tradition. It's a different lifestyle, some people are scared of others who are different."
"In history class, they told us both magic users and the Japanese-Americans were accused of helping with the bombing of Pearl Harbor. They didn't help with the bombing of Pearl Harbor." My face screwed up into a stubborn scowl as my young mind tried to make sense of the world that was never meant to make any sense.
I have my homework assignment in my hand and frustration all over my face. An injustice over 70 years ago being written about years later. I grew up thinking my brother had all the answers to everything in the world. I had absolute faith that he could explain anything to me that I held until this day. He tinkers with the replace motor for his classic old pickup truck.
In most cities, you can't use magic. If you are a magic user who isn't able to change back into a full human, you can't live in almost any city around the world. You may not be able to live in some countries. Some magic users always have a small amount of magic around themselves. That magic leaks out of them without control. It's like breathing. Magic is inert unless it's being actively used.
My brother gives me a world-weary sigh, in the way of telling a child something that should have never happened but did. "Alayke, we have the power to be great. To be the people, we claim to be. It's up to your generation to bring that greatness to pass."
"-But why did- th-?" I trip over my words in a futile attempt to comprehend the incomprehensible.
"They hate the monster they see in themselves," he says back to me.
"I don't understand?"
"I hope you never understand," he turns away from the truck and hugs me tight. The grease from the engine repairs smearing on me. He hugs me in the way you can only be hugged by your last living relative. He hugged me like I was his lifeline and I was loved.
A tiny amount of light shines into the shed from the windows gray with thick dust. Both puppies sit outside the door and watch me. I search the neat shelves. My brother's knives wrap in plastic sit on the dust covered shelf. I pick one of the two knives up. The plastic crinkles in my hand as dust flakes fall to the ground.
My hand works the knife out of the sheath. I lift my cast hand up to the small amount of light. The knife swings down and I chop the side piece of the cast. I drag the knife down and feel it touch my skin with a little blood that comes up.
I should be more careful but I'm right handed. This wasn't going to go well either way.
The cast opens and I flex my hand. Pain shoots through wrist and arm. I can feel my fingers so this is going to have to be good enough healing. I clean the knife of my blood. Still sharp sheath them. I take the two blades and attach them behind my back.
The blades won't stop most magical creatures but I feel a little better.
The open door of the shed with puppies beckons me. Out the door and down the crunchy gravel road to my house. The puppies trail me back down the driveway. Riverh struts like a conquering hero who slew a dragon. I smile down at her bending over to pet her head. Always on guard Rhain sniffs everything in sight.
At my front door the paint chips off the old door. The design on the door barely visible still mirrors the scar on my chest. The door is in the same disrepair as the rest of my home. The windmill in the distance spins slowly.
I place my hand against the door. The feel of the crack paint across my fingertips crumble to the ground. I never thought I'd be able to see this again. I trace the groove of the design. The door swings open.
Riverh trots through the door proud as punch. "Lead the way mighty warrior." I shake my head. The kitchen is a complete mess from them bust out to be heroes. My hand runs over Rhain slick coat as she heads over to the old TV. The VHS tape of Scooby Doo runs on the TV.
Rhain and Riverh curl up in front of the old TV together. My tired eyes drag while I get tonight's dinner. I open up the fridge greeting its barren landscape. All I need is the tumbleweeds rolling by in the fridge, to make this like an old west movie.
"Happy 16th Birthday to me."
The fridge taunts me back, complete with a nothing in this fuck of a fridge middle finger straight at me. I rummage in the back of the fridge for a little something I save for them and put in their bowls. The puppies require many feedings during the night.
The tired works it's way into my bones as I curl up on the ground next to Rhain's softness. Riverh decides to cuddle tighter to me. Rhain always so sensitive to the world around her licks my tired cheek. I slip away into sleep. Just a little nap that turns into something much longer. The tired and a little hungry works its way deep to my body than my soul.
A/N: Thank you, for reading. It's an infodump chapter. I wanted to figure out a better way to get this info in but can't. lol. Also, we are about to inaugurated a new president in the usa. I made this to go along with it because hopefully, life doesn't imitate art.
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Dreaming of Fireflies *rewrites*
ParanormalAlayke Tru lost everything in her life with a single bullet. All her family is dead. She's ignored by almost everyone. All she wants to do is go home but home doesn't exist anymore. If Alakye is willing to take the risk, she can disappear in...
