Tevun-Krus #50

Real Magick - @Holly_Gonzalez

"Real Magick" originally appeared in Tevun-Krus #34: GothPunk

Author's note from Holly_Gonzalez: Gothpunk can be expressed many ways, but I decided to write about actual modern 'goths' with a supernatural and pulp SF twist. The character of Pamela came to life within the first paragraph--a girl who knows she's different and has had to keep many secrets for her young age. I wanted to put a spin on the usual 'creepy doll' trope, and the idea for Lamishu as a protector rather than a villain soon fell into place. Pamela is a reflection of myself when I was a child in many ways, especially in the spiritual views portrayed. A little pagan to the very soul, she can never be caged in for long and will always find her own way through.

Real Magick

by Holly_Gonzalez

Eight candles twinkled on Pamela's strawberry cream birthday cake. Everyone had to treat her like a princess today. She'd always wanted to be a princess. Well, either a princess or a mermaid. She couldn't decide. Maybe a mermaid princess. She wore a sparkly tiara and her favorite purple taffeta dress with silver stars and moons embroidered on it. Her black-and-white striped stockings and patent Mary Janes matched perfectly, and she hoped everyone envied them.

"Birthdays are special," Mama said, angling her smartphone camera. "Any wish you make today will come true."

Pamela crossed her fingers and closed her eyes. I really wish Auntie was still alive, but not even birthday magick works that way. That's stupid. I'll just wish I was a mermaid princess. Even though she felt empty inside, she blew the candles out.

She missed Auntie Desdemone so much. Three months ago, Auntie had fallen down a big staircase in her house and died. Pamela had cried for a long time afterward. Auntie had been a professor of something called metaphysics and occult lore, and she used to teach Pamela about real magick.

More than anything, Pamela wanted to study real magick, and now there was no one to learn from. She'd have to find it for herself somehow...someday.

Cake and ice cream made Pamela stop thinking about Auntie for a while. So did the games on the lawn and a ride on the fat gray pony Mama had rented for the afternoon.

Later, all the other girls laughed at the silly puppet show. Little people with clay heads mounted on sticks chased each other around a cardboard backdrop. When the witch puppet turned the bad king puppet into a frog, even Pamela cracked a smile.

Mama called Pamela and the other girls inside after the puppet show. "It's time for presents."

Everyone rushed into the house with streamers, balloons, and ribboned fairy wings fluttering behind them. They gathered in the living room around the overstuffed leather armchair, where Pamela sat as if on a gilded throne. One by one, pink and purple bags and tinsel-wrapped boxes found their way into Pamela's hands. She ripped through the tissue paper and tossed it into a colorful pile.

Each time a gift was opened, she pretended to be happy. So many skinny fashion dolls, play make-up and gems, clothes in fancy colors she hated, and stuffed animals with hollow plastic eyes. Plastic--all fake stuff. Pamela was tired of it. Why couldn't anyone give her something worthwhile? Something like books about real magick, with sigils and arcane names and spells to study. Or maybe a train ticket to go see faraway lands.

When the last gift was opened, the other girls fawned over the huge collection of toys--the mountain of things Pamela didn't want. She thought about giving it all back to them, but that would be rude. Instead, she gazed out the window. That pony's still out there. I could climb on and ride away. Maybe I could go to the places Auntie visited. Maybe then I'd find real magick.