The Deception of Magic

Beechwood

The air around her was suddenly cold and eerie. The sun was still bright above her but there was a change that seemed closer to her, almost like an invisible bubble surrounding her. She instinctively looked to find out what was closing in when she felt a sharp kick to her thigh. She jumped, cursed and snapped her neck down in one super quick motion to find an elf standing right at her feet. He looked angry, had a cigarette hanging from its mouth and a squashed brown hat on its head. He wore green felt like clothes that were ripped and torn to reveal snippets of its arms like it had been recently slashed by something with sharp claws.

“You Ciara?” he asked.

Ciara bent down and rubbed her thigh where she had been kicked and nodded.

“Follow me then” he said, turning and walking off almost in a huff.

What a rude creature Ciara thought, but she had no choice but to follow the elf. She wasn’t going to stand there all day nor should she. She was obviously there for a reason and she had a small inkling that she was being taken to the queen and her pet unicorn in a state of blissful harmony in the village. They would be dancing and singing and throwing around bottles of cider and everyone would be drunk. Ciara instinctively licked her lips at the thought of a refreshing drink with a hint of alcohol.

Maybe she was drunk and her mind was playing tricks on her, sending her off into a subconscious wonderland where elves smoked and didn’t tell you where they were taking you. Hopefully it wasn’t to take off her head. Ciara thought back to the story that she had read a few nights early to try and get some clues for what she was about to face. “The Queen and the fairy danced under the moon and the stars and all was well.” It sounded nice until but then she remembered how the story had suddenly changed. “The Witch slashed at the Queen with a sharp knife, slicing through her clothing and piercing the skin along her ribs.” It was such a contradiction and confusing she didn’t know what to think. Either it was going to be a magical place filled with humming bees and fluttering butterflies, or it was going to be a burning mess with people being thrown out of castles and unicorns being murdered in the street below. Happiness or chaos? Happiness or chaos? She was hoping for happiness (all money on happiness thanks), but absentmindedly she had reached the top of a small hill and saw that she should have placed her money on chaos.

She gasped. It was nothing like the book had explained earlier. The green hills seemed to suddenly stop when they reached the slope of the hill. The grass grew browner and dead the further down the hill it went. The path was black, like it had been burnt. When the path reached the outskirts of the town, it only got worse. The grey bricked buildings had collapsed in some places as if they had been blasted from afar by cannons. Windows were smashed; dirt was only present where there had once been flowers. The lamps that joined the buildings together, illuminating the darkness seemed to only be rope. All of the buildings where the same. Dead bodies filled the sewers, bloated as if they had been there for days. At the same time as she saw them the stench hit her and she curled over vomiting. The elf had continued walking down the path but turned when it heard Ciara’s reflexes in play. How could she vomit in a dream? She wondered, but her stomach knew that this was not a dream. The elf reluctantly sighed and walked back up towards where Ciara stood next to her breakfast.

“Ok, suck that up princess, hold your nose, empty your stomach, cause it’s about to get a hell of a lot worse” he said, spitting on the ground. Gross.

What a dickhead elf, she thought and he just glared at her. Could he read her thoughts? She tried to clear her mind, but became suddenly nervous as he affirmed her theory.

“There is a reason why I found you earlier,” he said, being enough for her to feel that she wasn’t safe in her own head. Get out you dumb elf! He turned around and walked down the path, seemingly nonchalant about whether she would follow or not. Taking a deep breath and with an empty stomach, Ciara started down the path, her heart racing, her mind racing – she couldn’t censor it for any telepathic elf. When she got to the edge of the town she had to hold her nose and breathe quickly through her mouth. She couldn’t figure out which was worse, tasting death or smelling it. She was gagging and running, trying to catch up with the elf. He seemed to be out-walking her, at a seemingly slow pace. Was she as slow as a turtle in this place or are the elves just quick? Her eyes looked to the left and she saw something that made her slow down. It was a wooden cart with milk bottles on it. The pusher of the cart was still holding onto the handles of the cart, but she managed to look past his deadness. The milk bottles still had condensation on them. She had thought that this devastation had happened days ago, but milk can’t stay cold in the sun for very long. Maybe it had happened a lot sooner…