I Believe in Magic - Phan [#Wattys2017]

Chapter 1 - The Oddity of Phil Lester

Sun was shining through the lounge window of the Lester household one warm May afternoon. Mrs. Lester was on the floor, kneeling to play with her four month old baby, while her husband was busy with preparing an early dinner.

Mrs. Lester's baby boy was happily giggling while sitting on the floor beside his mother. He was enjoying the colourful spectacle of his toys dancing in front of him under her hand. His bright blue eyes stared at them, and he laughed along with the cute singing that his mother lulled. His tiny hands clapped along in joy.

Mrs. Lester picked up a plastic truck and blew air out of her pursed lips to make a driving sound, much to the baby's delight.

"You want to try?" she childishly asked her baby. "Here, Phil. Make the truck drive! Go vroom!"

The boy took the truck from his mum with his delicate right hand, and gave it to his left. Holding the toy in both hands, Phil rattled it and laughed at it as babies do.

"Go vroom, Phil!" his mother encouraged sweetly. "Vroom, vroom!"

Mr. Lester could be heard giggling at his eager wife from the kitchen. It made her smile.

Phil smiled too. He looked down at the truck, and shook it around, still unable to mimic the sounds his mother made. Upon shaking it, one of the wheels of the toy truck flung off, and made a quiet tap on the ground, indicating to Phil that it was indeed broken.

"Aww," Mrs. Lester sighed. "Did your truck break? Let me see, I'll get some super glue for you."

Instead of giving the toy back to him mum, Phil's left hand reached for the stray wheel. He instinctively pushed the wheel where it belonged on the toy. He smiled at it.

"Let Mummy see," she said, gently taking the toy from her son. She pulled for the wheel to pop off naturally now, but to her surprise, it was perfectly attached. It even spun as it had before. "Look at that!" she remarked. "It popped right back on, huh?"

Phil giggled and reached his hands up to grab his toy back from her.

This was the first of many odd occurrences in the Lester household.

The following week, Phil was watching his father cook dinner, sitting in a high chair. His father happily gave him instructions to his meal that he was preparing. Half way through, Mr. Lester picked up a small jar of spices and showed it to Phil.

"Spices make a meal taste good," he told his son.

Phil smiled and concentrated on the tiny glass jar in his father's hand.

All of a sudden, without warning, the glass shattered, blowing up right in the man's hand. With a quick screech of shock, Mrs. Lester came running.

"What happened?!" she asked frantically, noticing her husband's now bleeding hand.

"T-the jar. I-it just... broke." He let out a sigh of pain as drops of warm crimson flowed down his hand and to the kitchen floor.

"What do you mean? Did you squeeze it? Drop it?"

"No! I-I was just holding it, and–"

Baby Phil, seeing his father in pain, let out a wail of unhappiness. Mrs. Lester turned to the baby, noticing a shard of glass that had fallen on the tray of the high chair. She was unable to stop the baby from slamming his frustrated hands down on the tray. She jumped, worried he would get cut.

"Phil, no!" She rushed in a frenzy to take away the glass that was dangerously close to her baby. But she was too late, and Phil's left hand pounded down on the shard. Instead of the rugged and sharp edge of the glass, however, he touched the smooth top side. Not a second could go by to even think.

Suddenly, small bits of glass from the floor began to join together, reuniting and bonding. The larger piece near Phil fell from the high chair tray and morphed with the rest of it, and Mr. and Mrs. Lester stared at the floor in horror as a small glass jar appeared near their feet in perfect condition, as if it hadn't been broken at all. The spice that had spilled out was clean and in place within the jar. It even had the top screwed on.

Quick and shallow breaths of intense shock were the only sounds in the kitchen. Even Phil has quieted. He seemed content.

"You saw it too?" Mrs. Lester asked her husband. He gave a nervous nod.

She slowly leaned down to pick up the jar and examined it. Not a single crack.

Mr. Lester approached his boy and pointed a bloody finger at him. "Did... could he..?"

Another drop of streaming blood spilled out and onto the floor. Phil reached out and grabbed his father's finger, giggling and partially enjoying the colour. Stunned and in awe, Mr. Lester's wide eyes watched as the blood reversed its flow, directing itself back into the veins of his hand. Any blood on the floor or his sleeve was gone, and the wound stitched itself back up. A small scar was all that was left.

He took his hand away from the smiling baby and showed his wife.

"What... is this..?" he asked.

They both stared at their child. At this age, the Lesters already knew that their boy was something special. Something... magical.