The Catchers

by Stuart J. Kent

“I think you’ve made your point,” Colin said, stopping her from trying to think of anything else that may or may not happen in the city.

  “Good ‘cause I could have carried on, if I wanted to,” Trixie said smugly.

  “I’m sure you could have,” Colin agreed.

  “You normally do,” muttered Marty before Trixie glared at him angrily.

  Then as they reached the edge of the city the cart suddenly began to slow. Streak went from a full gallop to a gentle trot and very quickly they were moving no faster than everyone else around them.

  “What just happened?” Jamie asked, confused and looking around for a reason why they had just slowed down.

  “There’s a speed restriction in the city,” replied Colin, pointing at a big red sign that read:

  “Strolling speed only, law breakers will be persecuted.”

  “Persecuted!” Jamie muttered, reading the last word out loud.

  “And they mean it, from here on in we go at a slow, boring pace, I’m not getting tarred and feathered,” Trixie said, agreeing with the rule.

  “They tar and feather you for speeding?” Jamie asked in disbelief.

  “Only if it’s your second offence, and to be honest the feathers are quite comfy after a while,” replied Colin.

  Streak slowly trotted forward along the cobbled street as they joined the queue of traffic entering the city, and they gradually made their way amongst the buildings and life of the city. Jamie stared in amazement as he took in all the weird and wonderful sites that the magic capital city had to offer. They soon passed a jumble of old timber-frame Tudor houses and modern brick buildings that had been all lumped together, as if a huge storm had just tossed them together that way. He stared with wonder at the many witches and wizards in their traditional wizards’ and witches’ cloaks and pointy hats, who were just strolling along through the city.

  Then he gazed with intrigue as they passed some of the most famous touristy sites in Magictasium, which the others were happy to point out.

  “Mary Totting’s bakery!” said Colin pointing to a building shaped like a giant cupcake on the corner of one street.

  “Good cupcakes,” added Marty with a big smile. “Very good cupcakes.”

  Then Trixie pointed to a bronze statue outside the entrance of a small park.

  “There’s the statue of Earl Magmagas, the first wizard to try the ‘Midas touch’ spell,” said Trixie as they stared at the tall bronze statue of a wizard standing heroically on a plinth.

  “What’s the ‘Midas touch’ spell?” asked Jamie, curiously.

  “It’s a powerful spell which turns everyday objects into metal objects,” replied Marty.

  “Wow!” exclaimed Jamie in amazement. “So what did he do with it?”

  “He turned himself into that bronze statue,” replied Colin. Jamie quickly spun around and stared back at the statue again, in disbelief.

  “Not all spells are good ideas,” added Colin. “Something we should all keep in mind.”

  “Unless they’re chocolate spells,” Marty added, licking his lips as the others ignored him.

  They continued on through the city and passed by many more wonderful magical buildings and strange magical sites, until eventually they reached the heart of the city where the most important building of them all sat.

  “The Ministry!” exclaimed Colin proudly as they approached the huge stone building that sat in its own grounds, dominating the centre of the city. The Ministry building, like most of the city, was also a bit of a mess, consisting of many different architectural types all squashed together like a big ball of putty with many odd things sticking out of it, but in a building form of course, because as we all know a building made of putty would just sag and no one likes a saggy building.

  Anyway, it was mainly a large old stone castle with spires and towers jutting out of the top that reached high, high up into the sky, but there was also several other types of buildings added on, and so all over there were odd windows of different shapes, sizes and styles, different types of brick and stone walls that met at strange angles, and even doors that seem to be exits and entrances but were actually several floors up above ground level.

  It was indeed a real mish-mash of a building and probably not a good advert for the home of spells and magic governing, but as no one was prepared to bring this point up for fear of being covered in sticky toffee and cotton wall balls, which is the usual punishment for those who suggested stupid things at the Ministry, then the Ministry would continue on here as it always had done.

  “I think we’ll use the main entrance,” said Colin, bringing the cart to a stop.

  “No! Not the tourist entrance,” groaned Marty with displeasure.

  “Yes, the tourist entrance, now come on,” replied Colin, climbing out of the cart.

  “But it’s so annoying and full of tourists,” Marty added despairingly, already annoyed by the idea.

  “That’s why it’s called the tourist entrance,” replied Trixie, following her uncle.

  The group then made their way up a large set of stone steps until they reached a very large metal portcullis that sat across the tourist entrance.

  “Open!” Colin commanded.

  “Welcome to the Magic Ministry,” said a deep booming voice from overhead.

  “Yes, yes, now shut up and open,” muttered Marty from the top pocket of Colin’s long brown jacket.

  “For all your Ministerial needs, just ask one of our helpful receptionists, who are located on the ground floor in the reception area, at the reception desk,” the voice continued.

  “Open!” commanded Colin more sternly.

  “Yes sir, have a nice day,” the voice added.

  “Not likely,” grumbled Marty.

  The portcullis lifted up out of the way, and then the large wooden door beyond it gently swung open and finally the little group could make their way inside. The main entrance of the Ministry was a huge open reception room, with wooden panelled walls and several very large decorative chandeliers that hung from the ceiling.

  The floor was a shiny, polished white marble, and across it was a large, bright red carpet that ran from the entrance to the middle of the room, where a very large round reception desk sat.

  “What do you think of this?” asked Colin proudly.

  “Wow! This is amazing as well,” exclaimed Jamie excitedly looking around at the very posh room.

  “You know, I don’t think this kid gets out much,” Marty whispered cheekily, making Trixie laugh. “This way,” Colin said, marching towards the desk.

  They quickly made their way along the red carpet, pushing past a typical group of American tourists busily taking photographs for their holiday albums, and then they pushed past a group of protesters who wanted “equal rights for the elf communities”.

  “Never going to happen,” muttered Marty.

  And then, finally, they pushed their way past many other busy wizards and witches, who were coming and going, until at last they reached the end of the red carpet in the middle of the room.

  “Here we go, the reception desk, at last,” sighed Colin in relief.

  The reception desk was no ordinary desk, oh no, this was a Magic Ministry desk, so firstly there wasn’t one desk but there were four round wooden desks that sat inside of each other and were each on different levels so they all stacked upwards like a large wooden castle reaching up to its highest point, where protruding upwards above the desks, right up at ceiling level almost, were several wide exhaust funnels that puffed out small balls of smoke every few secounds.

  “That’s a big reception desk!” Jamie whispered to Trixie.

  “Yep,” replied Trixie agreeing.

  They then stood at the first ground-level desk waiting to be served, and after a couple of seconds there
was a sudden metal rattling sound and, quickly appearing from the left, a receptionist halted in front of them, ready to help.

  “Good afternoon, how may I help you?” said a smiling, blond-haired young man in shirt and tie.

  “We wish to report a magical incident,” replied Colin.

  “Do you want to make it in person? Fill out a form? Or send a Magicmail?” asked the receptionist.

  “In person, of course, that’s why we’re here,” replied Trixie sarcastically.

  “Very well, if you could just wait one moment,” replied the receptionist before shooting off to the right and disappearing around the other side of the round desk, out of sight.

  “Well, this a good start,” Marty sighed sarcastically, leaning on the edge of Colin’s pocket, looking extremely bored. Then a second later there was another metal rattling noise and, from the right, a middle-aged lady, with her hair pulled tightly back in a bun and wearing a white blouse, arrived in front of them, sitting behind the next tier of the desk stack.

  “Yes?” she inquired, looking down at them sternly.

  “We wish to report a magical incident,” said Colin again.

  “Very well,” she replied before looking down at her desk. “Fill in form 24, then 31, 33A, 40, 42B but not section D, unless of course you are filling it out on behalf of a Troll or other magical creature, and then the blue form 55, and once you have completed them and checked for spelling mistakes and grammar, please send them to the address on the right hand side of the page.” The receptionist then held out a bunch of different coloured papers for Colin to take. The little catcher group stared blankly back at her as their intelligence had just been melted by the sheer madness of what they had just heard.

  “Err… actually we want to report it in person, it’s very important,” replied Colin.

  “I see,” sighed the receptionist. “Perhaps you could have said so before.”

  “We did say, to the first receptionist,” added Trixie.

  “Oh, right,” the receptionist said, slightly annoyed. “Well, please wait here a moment,” and then she, too, shot off to the left and out of sight.

  “Well, this is going great!” sighed Marty sarcastically. “Do you remember the time when we were all young and full of life, I think it was just before we came in here.”

  “Just be patient, we are nearly there, these things always take a little time,” replied Colin calmly.

  Then another rattling noise came from the left and up behind the third tier of desks appeared an old man with a receding hair line and a grey tie and shirt, and as he stopped in front of them he peered down at them through a pair of little round glasses that sat upon his crooked, pointy nose.

  “Yes?” he asked sharply.

  “Do you like your job?” asked Marty cheekily.

  “What?” replied the old receptionist, slightly confused by the unexpected question.

  “We would like to make an incident report,” Colin quickly intervened, because he knew that time-wasting wasn’t really tolerated at the Ministry and was punishable by a week’s worth of sweeping the building.

  “A magical incident report,” added Trixie.

  The old man stared at them for a moment and then glanced down at the open page of the book in front of him, and for a good few seconds sat quietly studying it.

  “I have no appointments left today,” replied the old man finally before looking back up at them.

  “What!” the group exclaimed together in disbelief.

  “You can always fill in a form,” replied the old man.

  “No, no forms, no we just want to tell someone in authority what we have seen,” snapped Trixie angrily.

  The old man sat for a moment in silence staring at them.

  “Please wait here,” he then said before he shot off to the left out of sight just like the others had done before him.

  “Unbelievable!” cried Trixie in despair.

  “The Ministry at its best,” grinned Marty sarcastically.

  “Now just hold on you two, procedure has to be followed, there is an established way of doing things and we must allow the system to work,” said Colin, trying boldly to defend the situation they were in. “Otherwise, there would be nothing but chaos and anarchy, we would be back to the old dark days where a person could be jailed just for walking the wrong way along a street.”

  “I miss those days,” sighed Marty, cheekily.

  “No, this how it has to be, procedure and documentation working in harmony with local and national authority to bring about a peaceful and utopian way of life,” continued Colin proudly, enjoying the system in place.

  “What a load of fudge!” Marty said in reply.

  “What?” exclaimed Colin in astonishment at Marty’s rude remark.

  “Look over there at all that fudge,” continued Marty, pointing to table to the side of the room where a charity group were selling homemade fudge.

  “Oh yes, I see, fudge,” muttered Colin.

  Then there was another rattling sound and high up, behind the smallest, highest, fourth desk, way up above all the others, a young man appeared in front of them with black, slicked-down hair nicely parted along one side, and a pair of large ears that jutted out on either side of his head and a strange, happy grin on his face.

  “Hello boyos,” he said in a happy Welsh accent. “What seems to be the problem then?”

  “Oh several things…” grumbled Trixie, before Colin placed his hand over her mouth to stop her from talking.

  “We wish to report a magical incident,” Colin replied calmly.

  “In person,” added Marty.

  “To the correct authority,” added Trixie pulling Colin’s hand away to speak.

  “I see, well unfortunately all the appointments are full up today,” replied the man looking down at the open book on his desk.

  “We know!” said the little group all together.

  “Oh right, well you could always use our new internal magic coordinator machine,” he said, pointing to a brand new, large shiny white computer screen that was sitting over on the left wall, waiting to be used. “Just go to the Magical Incident Report page, and you should be able to speak directly to one of our investigating officers straight away.”

  “Marvellous!” exclaimed Colin happily.

  “Well, I’m just happy to help,” replied the receptionist before shooting off to the right again.

  “Why didn’t they just say that from the beginning?” grumbled Marty.

  The first blond-haired male receptionist then shot past again.

  “You never asked,” he called out as he flew past them.

  “I hate the tourist entrance,” muttered Marty angrily.

  An hour later, they had finally made their report to a very nice female officer in the magic reports office, and were soon making their way back to Streak and the wooden cart.

  “Well, there we go then, our civic duty is done, we’ve reported the incident, and now it’s all down to the authorities,” said Colin, happily.

  “Finally!” Marty yawned as he awoke from a quick nap he had just had inside Colin’s jacket pocket. “Let’s get out of here, I’m starving.”

  “Yes, let’s go have some tea, I’m hungry as well,” Trixie said, rubbing her belly uncomfortably.

  “Tea!” exclaimed Jamie, suddenly remembering why he had been in his room earlier. “I need to get home, my mum had my tea ready ages ago, she’ll be really angry that I’m late.”

  “Don’t worry Jamie we’ll get you home in no time,” said Colin reassuringly before he quickly climbed into the cart. “Streak, we need to get Jamie home, like now this instant,” Colin said, taking up the reins in both hands as the others climbed aboard. Streak glanced back at them, and then began to quickly rock back and forth buildi
ng up a rhythm like an Olympic bobsleigh team about to go down the ice-run.

  “You will definitely want to hold on to something,” said Trixie as she pulled down her goggles again and hunkered down in her seat.

  Jamie quickly grabbed the wooden side of the cart and gripped it as hard as he could ready for the explosion of speed.

  “Go, Streak!” commanded Colin, and instantly, Streak trotted forward calmly and considerately, because they were after all still in the city.

  “Well, we’ll get you home soon,” grinned Trixie sarcastically.

  A few minutes later, they reached the city limits again and could see the wide-open countryside ahead of them.

  “Go, Streak!” Colin said, geeing him on, and Streak did just that, exploding forward like a cannonball. The catchers had to cling to the cart to remain inside of it, and in a matter of seconds they were racing back through the quiet countryside tracks just as fast as they arrived, and they were soon back at the purple mountains of Cherryberryia.

  “Whoa!” cried Colin pulling on the reins and making Streak and the cart come to a complete sudden stop in a giant dust cloud. Colin immediately leapt out like a man half his age, and then quickly pulled the magic door out of the back of the cart and set it up again ready to go back to Jamie’s room. Jamie joined him in front of the door and then Colin tapped it firmly three times with his crooked wooden wand and then took a step back. Almost immediately there was a clicking sound like someone unlocking the door from within, and then Colin stepped forward and turned the handle before giving the door a little push and it gently opened.

  “There we go,” he said, turning to Jamie with a kindly smile.

  Jamie moved to the door and was about to step in when he hesitated for a moment, then and he turned to speak to Colin.

  “I just wanted to say thank you, I really enjoyed seeing your world and I hope the magical Ministry catches that bad wizard.”

  “Well, thank you, Jamie for your help in catching that sprite, you saved me a bit of work there,” replied Colin, smiling. “And you look after yourself, young man.”

  “I will,” Jamie replied with a smile before turning to look at the others who were stood by the cart.