My name is Alexandria Blackwood. You may think, according to my name, wow, what a mucky muck. Well...Sorry to disappoint and crash you're picking-on-me parade. But, actually I'm the exact opposite.
I have grown up in ghetto of New York. Not the big apple, far, far from it. I live where New York officials and the mayor have pushed out the trash from the nice high rise condos. Yep, the homeless and poor to the side. I am in 22, and going to college to study music and how all that jazz works. Ha....puns. I hate jazz.
I sighed in my shabby room, dark, horrible florescent tube lighting flickering, cigarette burns on the walls from the trash living in the apartment before us. It really set the mood for a cheery life, don't it? The flooring was old orange, dingy, disgustingly stained shag carpeting that surely has not been cleaned or changed since the 70s when this place may have been actually a nice place. There's buckets everywhere catching water dripping from the cracks in the ceiling due to the deteriorating roof, the dripping could drive a sane person mad, and made it especially hard for me to focus on time signatures for class when the roof is drips are beating to it's own march of death.
I sighed at my small desk trying to focus on the Mozarts measures. It was a mess. My grandparents expected highly of me, to move through college and do better than my parents did selling crack on the streets. Yet, I never see my grandparents anymore. They just leave me here in this miserable place expecting me to be okay while they are constantly in a vacation out in Miami who the hell knows where. Bang up job they did being there for me in the end.
"Screw this." I muttered as I ripped my homework into shreds and threw my books across the room, angrily thrashing them around along with all my notes and own school compositions. I flopped on my bed face first, of course, instantly regretting what I did. Little did I know, just imagining putting everything back the way it was, became a reality.
I sit up to go clean up from the aftermath of my rage to look up to find myself in a different bed, with different walls.....Not my cigarette burnt dingy walls. I must be dreaming. I slowly turned around to scan the room further more to find a very nice room with bright bulbs, with waxed hardwood maple flooring, a vintage dark wooden desk, with bookshelves full of books. About...Magic? It looked like a room out of a set. Nice modern wall paper, with different designs of cherry blossoms and herringbone. It was a bit modern, but I liked it. It was quite a level up from my reality. Must be a dream, has to be. My mind finally snapped and put my in my dream situation, right? I always loved magic as a kid, this is what it's all about. I had a rough day, even my sub-conscious wants to give me a pat on the back.
I walked out the door cautiously looking down the halls to only see more doors painted different colors along the halls leading to quite a large main room, some purple, blue, green, clearly no pattern whatsoever, but it added lots of character. The ceilings were high, it looked like a old.....School? A preppy school, a historical one where you pay thousands a week to go to school with fancy 1800's light fixtures. I wandered down the halls completely disattached from this place, though my curiousity ran wild, I felt immortal. It's a dream! C'mon, just roll with it's punches and even if you do die, aye just wake up, painless.I reached the end of the hall into quiet a large room, with chandeliers, large English 19th century windows and brick walls, magnificent rugs and vintage couches and chairs, with yet more bookshelves with a big light up sign against the wall that read "Ta Da"..... and a...Bar? There was only one person in this room, and he was mixing a drink in a shaker. "Ah, you must be Alexandria." The man spoke up. He looked quiet elegant with a grey silk vest and purple undershirt with black suit pants, his hair was a bit curly but short, and off to the side, messily displayed across his left green piercing eye, very tall and slender. Well, now it's dead obvious it's a dream, that's a walking incarnate of my type. That's right. I called him that, because this is a dream. "Where am I?" I asked cautiously. "No need to fear, little one," He spoke as if he was playing, even though he seemed sincere, his voice was low, yet, had a tone to it that was soothing. "You're at a school." "With....drinks?" I asked, confused. He just chuckled and mused to himself. "Noob." "How'd I get here...I must be dreaming, I was just on my bed and then I open my eyes and I'm here...." I sighed. "GREAT and I got a paper due that I ripped up and SHIT!" I cursed myself, running hand through my hair. "Now, now. Don't fret, Mozart, you're not dreaming and you fixed your papers." I blinked at him. "How could I even fix them, I ripped my notes, I threw my books around- You're my mind you were there and I'm here like a idiot arguing with myself." I growled, pinching myself in hopes I'll wake up to go back to my misery.
"Do you reeeeeallly, that badly, want to go to that shit hole? Oh, honey, you poor lost thing." He snickered, teasing me. I frowned when I saw the pinch didn't work, and it only angered me he was right. He, or me, whatever clearly liked to pick on myself. He set the drink mixer down and began to pour the substance I could not recognize into two glasses. It was bright green and he began to drizzle some other, blue liquid on top. "Annnnywayyys, my name is Eliot. Welcome to Brakebills University. Our Dean, will explain the rest. But first, take a load off!" He clearly wasn't that thrilled according to his facial expression, very sarcastic yet stoic, his body language was very conflicting, did he not like me? Well shit, I don't like me either dude. Handed me the drink. I stared at the substance in the glass for a minute. "Don't worry, it's not poison and even if it were, you'd wake up, wouldn't you?" He rolled his eyes at me. I nodded slowly and took it, half hoping it was indeed poison so I could get out of this. Eyeing it, and it's unnatural glow, I took a sip. I froze. That was the most amazing thing I ever tasted in my life. Yeah there's beer and wine and all that but this was extraterrestrial, yet very...Very strong. He chuckled, amused. As I began to feel a bit whoozy just on my first sip, I put the drink down. My mind instantly started playing out this strangers motive, either one (1 shut me up, (2 screw me or (3 do something horrible to me when I'm passed out and I'm not sure what. Though he drank from the same mixer, why isn't he effected? Doesn't matter he must've pulled something that I missed while he was preparing them, happens in almost every college, one girl or another.
I guess he could read me according to my facial expression as he watched me in silence the whole time I sipped my drink. "I'm gay. Mostly. And you aren't my type. Calm your tits, dear. I'm Eliot." He took a sip of his own drink, and seemed to be just fine. "You already seem to know...uhm...who I am or you've been watching me or uh....." I spoke recovering from my short buzz. "Oh, I haven't been watching you. Magic has called you and the Dean felt something stirring and I am just you're designated tour guide, Alex." He explained. "Full of shit, tour guide." He mumbled under his breathe. "I'm not the bad." I responded defensively, I didn't like his attitude, he really sounds like me. "Not as bad as most but still very bad." He countered. I chose to just ignore that, I was already done with today before I even showed up. "Whose the Dean?" "Our teacher, mentor here. This way." He spoke as he lead me down many halls, until we reached a study. Very old, once again, the whole place seemed either preserved that way or themed on purpose. A black man with glasses was sitting at his chair in front of his desk. "Ahh, Eliot. Is this her?" He spoke, in a deep voice, nearly growly, yet friendly, his voice was inviting. Standing up, wearing a black suit coat with a white undershirt and black suit pants, leather black business shoes. "Yes, this is her. Bye now!" Eliot said and quickly bailed, he didn't seem happy at all to have you or even be the one to introduce you to this place, doesn't seem exactly like a social butterfly. "I'm Dean. But you may also call me Mr. Fogg, I am you're teacher." He introduced. "No, you're not. My teacher is Mr. Young, in New York, at Musical Arts College of New York City." I replied bluntly, rolling my eyes. Like I was going to believe any of this. "Well.... If you choose it to be. Alex, or Alexandria....What do you prefer?" Dean replied calmly. "Alex." I responded fast, waiting for a explanation with my arms crossed. "Well...Alex, show me some magic." Dean replied calmly, leaning against his desk, watching me.
"Are you kidding me?" I asked, staring at him. "Show me some magic." he repeated, this time, as a order.
How did they even know? I loved magic tricks as a kid, still do at heart just hadn't done a trick since I was very little because homework, high school and then eventually college, running away from thugs and avoiding getting beat up by assholes at my school who seem to hate me for no reason sort of preoccupied me from ever having any fun with it. I'd watch old films of Houdini, Pen and Teller, James Randi, and of course all fathers of magic themselves. Must be the theme of the dream. I remembered the books in the room I woke up in, books on Houdini, and other masters. This is just my way of coping, isn't it?
I looked around and found a deck of cards on a shelf, I took it and began to do a pretty basic card trick that didn't take too much skill so I wouldn't embarrass myself in front of him, I hadn't done this in years. "No. Try again." Dean interrupted me half way into my trick. I stopped in my tracks making the cards flip out of my hands making a mess on the desk. Mr. Fogg remained silent, staring at me. I got a bit awkward, as I picked up all the cards, having difficulty getting a corner up from the flat surface to even grab the cards. I shuffled them all again, doing a trick where all the cards disappeared out of my hands instead. "DO. MAGIC!" He yelled at me, a striking deep, snap in his voice. "I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT ME TO DO!" I screamed back, dropping the cards scattering and sliding against the hardwood floors of his office on impact. Ny hands balling into fists, white knuckling as my finger nails dug into the palm of my hands, blood flowing down my knuckles, not aware of what pain I was inflicting on myself, or what I was calling from inside of me. Suddenly, all the cards began to fly around me, creating wind around me like a shield, making quiet a gust, almost like a tornado around me and I was the center of it's power. It was so strong in it's speed that it made the stray papers in his office fly everywhere and eventually drawned into the card tornado and my hair whirl inside it's center. I gasped, and jumped causing all the cards fell scattering everywhere onto the floor. I shook, in shock and fear, no, that wasn't real. It felt real. So real. The energy, the static I felt through my body, I felt alive, to my core. That couldn't be dreamed up, that didn't feel human. Dean grinned. "You're more powerful than we thought." I my eyes grew wider and wider. "H-how di-did I..." I stammered, frozen into place, shock. I couldn't speak and my body rattled to it's core. "It's okay, I see this is your first run in you noticed with your powers... And this may be a shock to you, but magic is every little bit of it, real in one form or another. It's...Like a calling, if you have will and your own self power, you can make it happen. Sometimes it's force learned and it becomes your calling, other times such as your case, you just have it." Mr. Fogg spoke softly, he moved his hand from his side, slowly, so I could see every move he made. This is clearly not his first rodeo, he placed his hand on my shoulder, looking me in the eyes. I looked into them, noticing through the tinted shades he, was in fact blind. How could he even see? Scarring and damage around the eyelids, what is this?? That was the least of my worries for right now, what the hell did I just do? Am I a danger?
YOU ARE READING
The Magicians Eliot's Flame Dance
Hayran KurguAlexandria Luna Blackwood is a musical college student in New York. She has lived a rough life, with a rough family background. Suffering from depression, she enters Brakebills knowing almost nothing about magic expect it runs through her veins. Wh...