Draiochta Academy: All Genres Academy Anthology

by BBB Publishings

  With a flick of my wrist, pastel pink mist starts to pour from my fingers and strikes out towards my mother. As it begins to wrap around her, she begins to flail and scream like a fish out of water that’s about to be eaten by its worst enemy. Her slurred screams bounce off the thin walls of our old trailer and as she slides past my door, she reaches out and grips the frame. I watch in annoyance as her brittle nails break and her grip beings to waver. Adding a touch more power, I finally rip her hands from the frame and push her the rest of the way out.

  With my mother outside of my room, I drop the magic I have focused on her and refocus it on slamming my door and creating a seal. Just as the barrier locks into place, her fist begins to pound on the door. Pictures that hang on my wall begin to shake from how hard she is hitting the flimsy material. Stomping over to them, I yank them off the wall and place them into my nightstand. Now that they’re tucked safely away, they aren't in her path of mass destruction.

  Ignoring her screams and pounding fist, I strip out of my filthy clothes and slip into my sleeping shirt from last night. There's no sense in putting on fresh clothes if I haven't showered yet and it's not worth leaving my room when she’s on a rampage. I'll just have to get up earlier so I can shower before school. I set my alarm on my phone to wake me a little earlier and then place it on the charger. With everything ready for tomorrow, and my door sealed, I slip into my twin size bed and snuggle under my comforter. Focusing on the ticking of my wall clock and the cicadas, I fall into a restless sleep with a small hope of catching any Zzz's.

  Chapter Two

  The pestering sound of my alarm drags me out of the half-ass sleep I was in. Cracking my eyes open, I peek over to my window that's covered with sheer white curtains. The black to faded blue ombre in the sky shines through giving me a general idea of what time it is. Slinging my blanket off of me, I roll out of bed and grab my shower kit that holds my shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and other items. The last time I left them in the bathroom like a normal person, my own mother put Nair inside my shampoo like an immature kid. Luckily for me, I knew something was wrong because it smelled funny since she put more Nair in there than shampoo. Mother hates everything about me, especially my hair.

  With everything in hand, I disarm the barrier on my door and slide out as quietly as possible. The bathroom is across the hall so I make it in without any issue and once inside, I construct another barrier to keep her out in case she wakes. Within ten minutes, I'm clean and awake enough to start the day. Grabbing all my stuff, I disarm the barrier and walk out of the bathroom. Surprisingly, it’s deathly quiet, which is odd considering it’s been about six hours since Mother had anything to drink or consume whatever her drug of choice is. The silence causes chills to erupt all over my body but with a shake, I cross the hall to my room and don my usual attire- jeans, a t-shirt, and vans.

  Stepping in front of the full-body mirror that's hanging on my wall, I unleash my magic, directing it to style my hair and apply a light coat of makeup. Satisfied with my look, I snag my bookbag and phone and then make my way out of this temporary prison. On the way out, I pass through the living room and spot my mother laying on the couch. Something about the way she looks makes me stumble. Squinting, I take a step towards her and stare at her chest to ensure she is breathing.

  The chills I shook off earlier return with a vengeance and dread shakes me down to my core. I start to count to thirty with the hopes that maybe she is just knocked out and her breathing is slow, but I see nothing. Closing the distance, I see her color is off. Her skin complexion is paler and waxier than usual, on top of that, her lips have an ashy blue hue to them. With a trembling hand, I reach out and place my fingers on her neck where there should be a pulse. Instead of a pounding pulse, there is nothing but icy skin greeting me. The dread that is filling me turns into pure horror at the realization of what I'm seeing. My mother is dead. As I stand there looking down at her cold lifeless body, I wait for sadness to rear its ugly face. But all I feel is lingering resentment from her lack of love and nonexistent parenting skills.

  My lips thin as an atrocious smell hits my senses; the smell of her body relaxing all its muscles, including her bowels. Waving my hand, I place a temporary barrier around my mother's body to help neutralize the odor. When the misty pink barrier snaps into place, I turn from her limp body, and as if on autopilot, I walk into the kitchen, and grab the house phone from its receiver. Mindlessly, I dial the number for our local police department and raise the old school phone to my ear. When the dispatcher answers my call, my mouth opens and words spill out.

  My mumbling must have made some sort of sense because the lady on the other end began to tap away on her keyboard. "They will be there shortly sweetheart, stay calm and don't touch the body." I want to laugh at her for assuming that I am panicked from Mother’s death but little does she know, I'm cheering with glee. I'm free from her psychopathic ways and now I might be able to live some kind of normal teen life, even if it is only for a couple of months.

  With the call disconnected from the dispatcher, I grab my stuff and walk out onto the rickety front porch. As I pass through the screen door, I’m blinded by the angry sunrays and instantly the humidity begins to weigh me down. Looking back to the open front door, I take one last glance at my deceased mother encased in the glimmering spell and snap my fingers releasing the enchantment. Gotta keep my powers under wraps, so that means making sure everything is as normal as possible.

  I don't even have the door closed all the way before I'm hit with the stench again. Gagging, I slam the door shut and suck in a breath of fresh air. Looking around the front porch, I eyeball the few sitting spots and grimace. The green plastic chair has a missing back leg, the other two metal framed vinyl chairs are covered in mold, which leaves me a dirty blue cooler. With a shrug, I drag myself over to it and plop down. Pulling my phone out, I start up my playlist and lean back against the wobbly banister and start my wait for our 'finest' cops to arrive.

  Chapter Three

  "It's about time." Rising from the cooler, I turn my phone off and wipe away the sweat that glistens on my forehead. It's been nearly thirty minutes since I called the cops and they are just now showing up which is pretty pathetic. With my arms crossed, I prop my hip against the banister and watch as two patrol cars, and an ambulance pull onto the rocky road in front of my house. When the first cop car pulls up and opens their doors, a plume of smoke rolls out followed by two overstuffed pigs. In the other patrol car, a butch woman and her partner, who turns out to be one of my regular customers at the diner, slide out of their car and join the others.

  Paul, the cop I recognize, looks my way and gives me a nod. With a tap on his partner's shoulder, he departs from the group and makes his way over to me. Before he gets a chance to step on the rickety stairs, I call out to him, "Careful, those stairs aren't very sturdy. I'm surprised they haven't given away yet, especially with all the rain last month." With a nod, he tests out the bottom step and begins his ascent. As he passes my now thriving rose, he runs his fingers over its velvet-like petals and smiles.

  "I'm surprised this beauty is thriving out here in this heat." His words roll off his tongue with such smoothness, you would guess he was the sweetest thang in the south. Oh, but boy does he have them fooled. With that smoldering look he's giving me, I know he's talking about more than the rose.

  Shrugging, I let out a sigh and say, "It's surprising what a little time, patience, and care can do to something so fragile."

  "Speaking of care, how you doin with the death of your ma'? I heard the call over the radio and told my partner to pick it up. I know y'all didn't have the best relationship."

  "HA! There was no relationship. I tolerated her because I had to. I only have a couple of months until I turn eighteen and now all my plans are ruined."

  "Ah now, don't be like that Zen. I know you ain't got a pops, but I'm sure Judge Granger will let you stay at someone's house for a bit." God, he just doesn't understand and he never wi
ll. No one in this small ass city will. My mother may be a drunken druggy, but she was screwing most of the officials to keep herself out of the cells. With her out of the picture, the Judge ain't going to give two rats asses about me. But there ain’t no way in hell I can tell Paul that. Instead, I shake my head and keep my mouth shut.

  Paul’s eyes crease with a frown and he starts to reach out to pull me into his arms, but the sound of heavy footsteps climbing the stairs catches our attention. Sure enough, one of the overstuffed piggies is braving the rickety stairs and somehow makes it to the top. I watch as two of his vienna sausage fingers close around the burning cigarette and he pulls it from his greasy lips. With a grin, he eyes me from head to toe and sneers. "Well, what do we have here? Little Miss Alinsky, I'm surprised you ain’t like yo mama yet."

  "Oh, sorry to disappoint Officer Smith, I'll make sure that I'm the next to die." My nails start to bite into my palms and a magic that I refuse to use surges inside of me. The black abyss from where the magic comes from tries to swallow my beautiful glamour magic, but before it can, Paul pulls me into his arms and leads me towards the stairs.

  "You okay, Zen? Don’t let him get to you, he says stupid shit and thinks he runs the show." When I look towards Paul, I watch as all the color drains from his face. "Zen, your eyes are black... Like all black. Calm down, won’t yah?"

  Closing my eyes, I take a few deep breaths and look back towards Paul. "Better?" With a nod, he begins leading me towards the patrol car he arrived in. When he opens the backseat door, I start to climb in but stop and grab his hand. "Paul, you can't say anything. I don't know why my eyes do that or what it means, but you have to promise not to say anything." I'm nearly in tears as I plead with him to keep this secret, a secret that's been harder to keep as the days pass.

  Stepping around the car door, he pulls me into a hug and rests his chin on my head. "I ain't gonna say anything Zen, I promise. You're one of the only friends I got, so I gotta protect ya." His words resonate through me as the truth and with that, I relax in his arms and take in the only hug I've had in the last year.

  "Rookie! Get yo’ ass ova’ here, boy!" The harsh voice of Officer Smith makes both of us stiffen and with a sigh, Paul places a kiss to the top of my head and helps me into the car. Leaning back against the hard plastic of the seat, I wrap myself in my arms and lean my head against the window. Rubbing my pearl earring, I activate its powers and listen to their conversation.

  The first thing I hear is Officers Smith’s grunt and his snarky words "Whatchu doin’ over there boy? You like that girl there? If she anything like her mama, she'll give it up for a nickel."

  "Actually, I was doing my job, you know, helping a seventeen-year-old grieving girl to an ac'ed car so that she doesn't have to watch us tote her deceased mother out of the only home she has." Paul looks back towards me with a quick glance and thins his lips. Shaking his head, he walks over to the butch lady cop and stands next to her.

  With a buzzed haircut and her vest over her white wife beater, she crosses her thickly corded arms and nods her head towards the tin box I call home. "That's a smart idea, Paul, good going. Now, let's get this done. It's hotter than the devil’s ass and I got a date with my girl in an hour."

  Nodding his head, Officer Smith hocks a loogie and calls out to the other overstuffed pig that's using the patrol car as a prop, "Hey Sarge, we gonna go ahead and go in. You mind tellin them there paramedics to get the gurney ready?" With a nod, the Sergeant starts to waddle his way over to the awaiting ambulance. Turning on the bench, I smile to myself at the fact that Officer Smith is going to be the first one to go through the door and just as expected, he is hit with the smell of death. "Oh shit! I ain’t going in there with it smelling like that! Get them paramedics in there and bag her up, she’s dead alright." Turning away from the window, I let out a laugh and at the sound of the first dry heave, I disengage my pearl earring.

  Chapter Four

  The feeling of falling jerks me from the sleep I fell into and as my eyes open, I throw my arms out and catch myself. "What the fuck!" Looking over my shoulder, I see Officer Smith wearing a shit-eatin grin as he walks away from the now open door. Pulling myself up, I turn straight and slide out of the patrol car.

  "I'm sorry he did that, I was just about to wake you up before he opened your door." The gentle sound of Paul's voice eases some of my anger and with a shrug, I look around the garage we are in to check if the coast is clear. With no other sign of another person, I wave my magic over me and smooth everything out. "You know there's cameras right?" Paul's question makes me freeze. I'm such a dummy.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as he rounds the front of the car and makes his way over to me. "Thank you for being kind to me Paul. I may not have cared for my mother, but everything is gonna be different for me now. I don't know what the judge is going to do with me since I don't know who my father is and I'm not eighteen yet."

  Wrapping his arm over my shoulder, he begins to lead me into the station and with a squeeze, he says, "Let's not worry about that for right now. Let's just get you through this and we will figure it out together. "

  "Thanks, Paul, you're a great friend." As we walk, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Pulling it out, I see if one of the girls I work with at the Diner. Apparently, word has already gotten around town that my mother is dead. I can't help but scoff, it always seems like everyone seems to pop up when a tragedy strikes, but any other time, they can't be bothered. Not in the mood to reply, I start to slide my phone back in my pocket but before I can, Paul takes it out of my hand. "Hey, give that back!"

  "Wait a minute Zen. I'm just putting my cell in there, so if you ever need anything, you will always be able to get ahold of me." I try yanking my phone from his hand, but with him being nearly six inches taller, it's hard to reach as high as him. The sound of his phone chiming tells me there’s no sense in fighting, he has my number now. "There, now I got yours and you have mine." Yanking my phone from his hand, I shove it in my back pocket and pull out of his arms. "Ahh come on Zen, I just want to look out after you. That is what friends do, so let me be a friend."

  Sighing, I shrug my shoulders and lean my head into his side. "Fine, I just busted my ass for that phone and if anyone breaks it, it needs to be me. Thanks for trying to be there for me."

  "I understand Zen, I swear I do and you never have to thank me. Now come on, we gotta get your statement for the record." Slamming his hand into the automatic door button, we wait for them to swing open and then proceed inside. Through the doors, we walk into the one and only jail that is within a hundred=mile radius. People bustle everywhere and phones ring constantly, mugshots fill a corkboard and right next to it is another corkboard, but this one is filled with missing people. The irony of it all, both of them are wanted, but for different reasons.

  Not wanting to draw attention, I shrug Pauls arm off my shoulders and walk two steps behind him. Though, no matter how much I try, I still get second glances and straight-up gawking. It doesn't help that my hair is a pastel rainbow and compared to everyone else, that's outlandish. Ignoring the stares, I follow behind Paul until we come to one of the interview rooms. Swinging the door open, Paul waves for me to enter and follows in behind me while closing the door.

  When the door clicks shut, he stares blankly into the one-way mirror and then shakes his head as if he was in some kind of daze. Raising his hand, he runs his fingers through his tousled auburn hair and shuffles his feet. Finally, he speaks. "Do you want anything before we start? I can grab ya some coffee or something."

  With a noncommittal shrug, I plop into the metal chair and look over to him. "Nah, I'm just ready to get this over with."

  "Right." Sitting in the chair opposite from me, he presses record on the recorder and we begin. It takes only ten minutes for me to recount the last week for him and once all his questions are satisfied, he leaves the room. I've lost track of time from playing mindless games on my phone, but a wave of darkness unmatched by anything I'
ve ever felt hits me. I nearly fall to the floor gasping, but I catch myself knowing I’m being recorded.

  Taking some breaths, I right myself and slide my phone away. Whatever the hell is going on is messing with my magic. My glamour magic and the darkness inside of me are both flaring with familiarity. As the power gets closer, the lights begin to flicker and on the outside of the room, chaos ensues. Not wanting to take a chance, I create a magic barrier around me and brace for whatever is going on. I mean it can't be that bad, they didn't sound the alarms or anything.

  After a few minutes, it feels as if the force from the darkness completely vanishes, leaving me confused and my magic in a fritz. A few more minutes tick by and after nothing happens, I break my barrier and return to my seat in a more alert state. I start to pull my phone out to reopen the game I was previously playing when the door flies open revealing a very distraught Paul. Rising from my seat, I start to walk over to him but when he flinches away, I freeze. "What's going on?"

  Taking a step back, Paul places his hand on his baton and starts to fiddle with it. My eyebrows nearly fly off my face in shock at his behavior towards me and when he speaks, it's no longer the sweet guy who I would call a friend, instead, its someone who looks like they were lied to about everything, pure disappointment. "Um... I don't know how to say this, but your father is here."

  I don't think I’ve ever laughed so hard and as I laugh, I wait for him to join in proving that is all just a prank, but as his face remains unamused, I quite down. Leaning against the metal table, I cross my arms over my chest and begin to fumble at my nails. A stupid nervous tick that I have. Shaking my head in denial, I look to Paul and say, "That's impossible, my father is just a sperm donor from one of my moms random hookups, so don't listen to the lies."