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Whilst turning down his father, Loem quickly realises that he doesnt want to be cast a freak, and his father turning him down. He no longers yerns for that independance, after a dosage of power, and he's more than willing to hand it over, without truly knowing what the price he's paying for it, as it could be death, for more than just himself.

Loem is a mage, and he doesnt know it yet, but when he does, he learn to embrace it. View table of contents...



Submitted:Apr 18, 2010    Reads: 133    Comments: 4    Likes: 4   

Chapter 1
I could never wish for a moment to capture, yet I tried to encapsulate this. Alie swaying at my garden gate, one hand combed halfway through her dirty blonde hair. I could only stare, and look on in awe. She grinned, and gave a giggle at the way I looked, her head dipped, when I saw her face again, she had dimples, and freckles dotted over her nose.
She reached for my hand and gazed into my eyes; an excited beat broke off in my chest, it tickled. She brought to me a peace, which flourished in my stomach and gave the caterpillars wings. I broke the gaze and looked straight down to my feet. She softly jolted my hands; I looked back up, and she kissed me.
"I'll see you, tomorrow," she said, pushing back from my hands, and letting go.
"Yeah," I breathed, the air jittered in the back of my throat. "Go then, before it starts to rain."
She smiled once more, before rushing off down the cobbled alley. I savoured that kiss, and kept the picture of her bright eyes smiling into mine. I had it all in a capsule now, but I knew I would never mention it.
I turned to see Rheon stood on the doorstep, he grinned.
"I don't think they know," he stated.
"I just don't understand why you don't want them knowing about you and Alie."
I gave him the look. The look to say, 'I'm not going through this again', and left it there.
"What time are you coming over?" I asked.
"Half nine, so we can make it there for ten," Rheon replied, he pulled his hood up over the back of his head
"I'll see you tomorrow then. When I'll be sixteen," I smiled.
Rheon laughed, and then left through the back gate.
I couldn't take the smile from my face. The thought of Alie, and how she'd held my hands. Her wholesome smile and how they created perky indentations. I tilted my head with recollection, and the only thing I recollected, had been the colour of the clouds; the shift from shades. A droplet of rain christened my face, and I rushed indoors, making it in time to watch it pour.
I teased the back door shut, making as little a sound possible. I touched the frame of the dining room door; a tickle mustered in my stomach, and then a shiver. Ah, the dining room. I paused. Then in casual manner, trying not to look all too out of place, I walked in. I was privileged to be allowed to eat here, again. Oh, and wasn't I just fortunate enough to endure 'the family' torture, I grimaced.
The other children, the ones that my dad had after remarrying, were sat at the dining room table. I joined them, trying to blend in. Jeez, I was sat at the table, with four borderline obese children, and no sign of my dad.
It had been ages since my last encounter with this table, all because I was removed from it. A joint decision, so they told me; for my presence to steer clear of the dining room - and grateful to do so - but I blamed it on his wife; all of it.
The thought of a family meal knotted my stomach and seized my throat, while I realised why I'd been banned daunting on me; her cooking and as I remember came in the form of saturates, a plate full.
I didn't want the meal, in fact I feared it. I could've betted that my dad had begged her; his wife, to allow me - his own flesh and blood, his eldest son - at the table, and all because tomorrow, I turned sixteen.
I sighed, then collapsed my arms onto the table, and burrowed my head within. A smell knocked me, and I wasn't sure if it was a pleasant surprise, or not. So I lifted my head, and in the centre of the table my dad's wife laid out her cooking.
One thing rattled my brain; be nice. I am nice, when people are nice back that is.
The other children talked across to each other. I sat up straight in the chair and rolled down my sleeves. I wrapped each arm around the other, and tried to keep my glances to myself. The one time I had looked ahead, his wife had caught it. She glared back; her icy eyes and stern face may as well have punched me.
"Children, your dad is running late, I'll dish your dinner out now though," she spoke. I'd watched as her lips moved, yet expressionless. That's what my dad's money was going on.
Several minutes later, and she came to me, and coughed.
"Yes?" I asked. I turned to look at her, and she eyed the food on the table; so I took the hint. "A bit of everything," I requested, purely for kindness.
She grabbed my plate, and scooped up some mash, then carrots, peas, roast potatoes, dumplings, and then stew. Under the circumstances that would have been delicious, yet she'd cooked it, so I thought twice. I gulped making sure my throat was still working, but for how long? I tried to guess.
"When will my dad be home?" I asked before she left.
"In a couple of minutes," she mumbled.
"Oh, thanks."
I saw her turned and up-curled lip and the rise in her brow. It didn't do her any favours for the model housewife look - even though I supposed she had known I was being polite on purpose.
I stared at the food on the plate then picked up the fork beside it. I drove it into the mash, and then hauled it back out, keeping a small amount on the fork. I constricted my mouth open and shoved the fork in. Not all that bad. I thought, before I'd tasted it properly. The mash swashed around in my mouth, lumpy bits touched the roof, as did the salty granules pop on my taste buds. I didn't know what to do, try and swallow it then heave buckets of sick, or maybe spit it back out onto the plate, right in front of his wife.
The front door blew open; it banged against the radiator. Wind wailed in through the house, and the sound of rain stampeding on the doorstep burst. My dad, he came in with a collection of sneezes and wheezes. I watched the dining room door from the corner of my eye, and how his wife had rushed to his aide.
I made a move and took a napkin. I spat the food inside and folded it up, placing the napkin on my lap.
"Oh, it's c - c - cold out," my dad shivered.
"Well, if you were home fifteen minutes ago," his wife giggled.
My dad walked into the dining room, with his wife clung to his side. He smiled at me like I owed him something. I didn't, and I didn't deserve being kicked out in the first place. Its called being too analytical, or is it too critical? Maybe both, but wasn't that what my dad did on a daily basis anyway; as a surgeon.
He took the chair opposite me, and his wife fetched him a plate. I knew he was watching me from the other side of the table, so I wore a look of enthusiasm. I caught a spoonful of peas, and precarious tossed them into my mouth. "Mmm." I expressed. They made my mouth water, also because of how much a salty taste they had. I chewed on them, and hoped two things; the first thing was that I would be able to keep them down, and the other, to be able to taste afterwards.
"Nice?" my dad asked, he smiled then eyed my plate.
"Um, yeah," I lied, my words were not all that assuring.
Right now, I would have done so much to have a cold or stuffy nose, in fact anything to be unable to taste.
"There you go darling," I overheard his wife speak.
I glanced over to them both. She leaned over my dad to place his plate. I watched as she waited, my dad shoving his nose into her neck; bringing about a deep inhalation. I didn't know why he had to go so close to her, I could smell the over primped perfume from over here, and she applied it in a routine, of every hour.
The woman moved, and I could see my dad's face returning to a fleshier colour, how lucky was he, having a cold and being all flared up like that.
"Loem," he called from across the table, catching me from the annoyance that he had brought.
"Yes?" I questioned trying to smile.
"I have a question," he announced. Pausing, and scoffing a forkful of food then beginning again. "So, what is it you want for your birthday?"
"Why, what can I have?" I asked
"Anything." He smiled. "Well, within reason of course," he chuckled.
I wanted to ask for my mum's address, once more. I didn't know why he'd give me it now after keeping it a secret for so long; if he even had her address in the first place. Besides, the first time in several months, and I'd sat at the table. I didn't want to spark an argument.
"Can I move?" I asked. My vision fixated on the fraying cloth on the corner of the table.
The clash of metal on his plate shook me, I looked up. My dad had stopped eating; now I was sure he'd been prepared for me asking about my mum.
"Well. You're going to be 16, not 18, or even 17," he indicated.
From the tone he spoke in, I could tell the rest of the conversation would follow to be condescending and quite patronising. So I stopped him before he went ahead of himself.
"I know you can put the rent up for one, I'm sure Roane can live without one Botox injection, and, and, I can even try and get a job," I proposed.
It was spontaneous, and my stomach twisted harder. I had just said something spiteful about his wife. Bad tongue. They were the first things to come to mind, and I figured that I would be a happier person if I didn't have to live with the family I'd already distanced myself from.
I could see something in my dad's eyes. I knew he didn't want me to move; considering me being the eldest, I guessed he didn't want me to grow up faster than I needed to either. A primary reason why Alie hadn't been mention, because he would have told me I was too immature to handle a relationship, or even gone through some sort of sex talk.
"We'll discuss it when we come back from America," my dad being blunt, closed the conversation.
"America?" I questioned. "Wait, I don't want to go."
"Sorry?" he discouraged the fork from his lips and stared at me.
I looked around to the rest of the room, and made sure his other children were all doing what they were supposed to.
"Well it's my birthday tomorrow, and I get my results. And Ash has organised a party," I said. A thought then stuck me; I didn't know a lot of people, not a lot for a whole party.
"What, a party? So what about family?" he asked.
I didn't know how to tell him about my 'they're not just quite family' feeling, and the people in America, they were relatives, but not close enough to be called family.
"We go to America at least three times a year, and I'm sure that it's always the same, at first, when I was eight, it had was amazing, now I'm nearly sixteen. Couldn't we go to New York or, y'know someplace different?" I argued. The whole, me not sparking an argument idea had failed.
"So this party, did I give you permission to go?" he asked with a swift change in topic.
"Yeah, I asked you the other day in your office, and you said 'yes' or something," I explained, ending in a quieter tone.
"Maybe that something, maybe it was a 'no'?"
You could never tell by how he spoke to whether he was being serious or not, sometimes he could be having a laugh at my expense that is if I think he's being serious, so I continued.
"No. Plus if you go away for a week then I can look after the house, if I take good care of it, then you can get me an apartment or something." I hadn't planned on saying that. Besides I didn't know about going to America until now.
I caught contemplation flicker in my dad's eyes, then he gave me a subtle nod. My stomach wrapped itself harder, and a cold tickle touched my abdomen.
"Hmm. May I be excused?" I requested.
I glared back down to my plate, and feared my dad may have too. I tried to eat a lot, but then again, when I've been used to my own cooking, I needed some adjustment.
I looked up to my dad's face. His lips pursed, and his brow furrowed. I continued to watch as his face changed; it eased away from any thought contemplating against my request.
"Yes," he responded, in a low voice.
I could've waited behind and listened in on any argument I'd caused. The sulking of his wife was funny. But instead I rushed off to my room, and locked the door.
Being sealed off from my dad, his wife, and their children made me happy. Privacy created boundaries, and boundaries meant just a little bit more independence, and I liked independence.
However the positive of my privacy, went against the negativity of my room; the four walls created the smallest room in the whole of the house, and I spent most of my waking hours in there.
Dark blue wallpaper covered the walls, and I learnt if I stared at them for too long my brain would hurt, blissfully nonetheless. No pictures hung, or posters pinned. I kept everything basic, well to the basic needs for me; I had a bed, a desk and a computer, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, and on top of the drawers stood a small bedroom refrigerator.
Scrunched up papers littered the keyboard of the computer, and dirty clothes pitied the small surface of floor. The curtains hung thick and covered most light coming into the room. Being in the room, the room where all the mess reflected the state that my mind was in.
I slumped into the computer chair and then pushed the power button on the tower. Nothing happened. I pushed it again. Then again. I gritted my teeth, and pushed it again. The light flickered, and stayed. Add to list; get a decent computer. Another thing in my life, trying to wreak havoc had been the mental notes that flitted around in my head.
I brushed away the crumpled up pieces of paper from my desk, I felt quite lucky to have found my phone, with three new messages. I read them, each one of them from a different person. The first from Alie; how did the family meal go, okay? If not you can always come to my house and have tea (kisses) see you tomorrow. I smiled and replied with; its okay, they're going away tomorrow, so I guess I'm going to have the house all to myself (kisses).
The next message I read, a chain message, I read the first part then deleted it. I read the last message; you best still be coming to the party tomorrow, and Rheon can walk up with me and Carri, before you ask it's a surprise and Alie's brother knows where it is, so you're not going to see us before you get there, I'll see you tomorrow at school.
My computer loaded and I directed it to the internet. Social networking sites could eat up all of my time. With every holiday, including the summer that was close to finished, I found my time spent in the most constructive of circumstances; playing simulation games over the net. The one good thing to come out of this summer, has to be the memories, and that person who gave them; Alie. I'd never known her until she got my phone number from a friend, and I'd not noticed her at school before then.
I observed the clock in the corner of my computer screen. It was almost midnight, almost my birthday, and I was almost sixteen, a couple more minutes to go.
'00:00' flashed on my screen. Should I make my wish now? I didn't know, and what I could wish for, I had 60 seconds to do it in. I struggled to think of anything. I wished that I could find my mum. Seconds later, the clock flicked to '00:01'. I exhaled, and then yawned.
A knock at my door made me jump, so I rushed over. I unlatched the lock and opened the door. My dad stood in front of me.
"You can go down and make yourself something to eat," he stated in a whisper.
"Yeah, I'll be down in a minute. Is everyone in bed now?"
My dad nodded, and then looked me in the eye, before walking away. He stopped, and turned. "Oh, and happy birthday, I don't think I'll be awake when you get up."
"Thanks." I smiled to myself.
I pulled my door to a quiet closure.
"Try not to make any noise, or mess," he whispered from down the hall.
In the kitchen everything was spotless, nothing out of place. I made scrambled egg on toast. The pan I used kept a tough residue, I realised that it would have to undergo some violent scrubbing. So I left it, on purpose.


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