Full Circle.

Bethany and her new witches take time to celebrate their first year of magic.

Bethany looked over the ocean and sighed. Hard to believe a year had passed since she first used her gift. The changes in the world were already becoming evident as crime rates dropped, politicians spoke the truth and large corporations discovered they could not manipulate determined covens of newly empowered witches and warlocks. Magic had returned to the world, in force.

Although in her local area there wasn't so much political upheaval, the local hospital and halfway houses had found the support of the local witches, invaluable. With the police now seeking magic to help solve crimes and quell trouble  makers, who knew they could face the friendly warlocks and witches in times of excitement, trouble in the district had become a rarity.

The weather for the Coffs Coven's first annual picnic was perfect. Of course.
Sunshine, blue skies and a cool breeze, courtesy of a little magic. Mark's laughter and presence added to her enjoyment. Today was a good day. Perfect day to celebrate...

Bethany stirred, the gathering's guest speaker cleared her throat and on a cue from Amber, began to speak. Forty-five newly gifted sorcerers gathered closer to hear her words. Stephanie Hillstock, wife of Daniel Hillstock, the recently deceased founder and former CEO of C.O.O.N., Clean Our Oceans Now, raised one hand. She spoke clearly, though unshed tears welled in her eyes. Stephanie, the eco-biologist and nanotech designer explained the latest breakthrough. The creation of nanites designed to break down plastic into inert, harmless molecules. The application of these new machines could clean up the islands of plastic and the soup of toxic nodules floating in the ocean's deadspots. Bethany found herself rejoicing, a flutter of excitement grew in her soul.

How could magic help? This was straight science. She listened, rapt in the idea tiny machines, guided by miniscule GPS 'pearls' could rectify the vast problem of plastic waste.

The guest speaker paused. She glanced around her audience, making eye contact. "All we need is a means of funding our research to enable a large scale manufacture and deployment of these nanites."

"How do you know they won't keep breaking down plastic that is still in use?" Amber asked.

Stephanie took a breath and began to explain. Bethany listened with interest as Stephanie explained how the GPS would limit the extent of the nanite's viability. If they floated outside the pearl's range they would become dormant. If they reentered the zone they would again become active. Simple.

As Stephanie answered several other questions, setting to rest all Bethany's queries and problems she hadn't foreseen, Bethany knew she had to help. Magic wasn't exactly what Stephanie was asking for, but funding? Bethany caught her breath. Funding? Money? Her heart raced. She knew of a charity, her favourite charity, that had come into a great deal of money recently. She knew, because a year ago she had given them a winning lotto cheque. Millions of dollars...

An email explaining Stephanie's project and need for funding, with perhaps a little spell to persuade the board of directors, and C.O.O.N. should have all the funding they could possibly need.

Bethany didn't want to wait. The charity she chose so many months ago, was perfect for Stephanie's need.  Their mission was to find and fund ways to improve life on the planet. Surely funding research and deployment of the nanites would be well within the criteria for donations.

She wanted to jump up and share her ideas, but for now she sat and  composed an email, hit send on her smart phone, breathed the warm summer air and grinned like a Cheshire cat. Tomorrow she would follow up her request with a visit. Just in case a little magic was needed.

It seemed like the coming of magic finally would make a difference to the world. Not just to the humans but to the whole planet. This was just the beginning. Bethany had discovered the limitations of magic. Curing the world's ills was more than a single coven could achieve, but a simple gift could help find an answer to Stephanie's need.

She closed her eyes, thinking how her life had changed since a stranger gave her an even stranger cube. Her choice to believe in magic changed her life and now it would change the planet. For the better.

"Bethany," Mark's voice intruded on Bethany's introspection. "Here, I brought you a gift. It isn't much, but hey, I just couldn't resist. Happy Christmas."

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Bethany could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. Even knowing his preference, Bethany found Mark attractive and over the year they became close friends. He probably didn't know how his innocent kiss could heat her blood.  Trying to put aside her discomfort, she grinned and opened the gift. Laughter bubbled and burst free as she revealed a Rubix cube. "Perfect." She managed to speak.

"Seemed appropriate." Mark settled beside her.

"Yes, it is." Bethany nodded. Today was the perfect way to celebrate the coming of magic.

Rosalie Skinner resides on the east coast of Australia when not totally immersed in the fantasy world of her writing.

Rosalie’s love of the ocean, nature, history and horses has enabled her to give her books an authentic air. Her latest achievement has been to ride through the Australian Snowy mountains and see the wild brumbies run. When not watching the migrating whales pass her doorstep she has more humble pastimes.

Other than being a published author, her greatest thrill is being a grandmother. Born over fourteen weeks early her granddaughter’s perfect development and growth are a miracle and joy.

Follow:  Blog,

 Website

Chronicles of Caleath Facebook 

A Gathering Of Fantasy Readers and Writers Facebook group

The Cube.

As luck would have it there was an empty seat at the back of the Magic Bean café.

I grabbed my Chai Latte and settled, facing the mall. The aroma of coffee grinds spiked my taste buds. The general bustle, clatter and conversation eased as the early morning addicts downed their double shots and sauntered off to work. 

There would be a lull, for an hour or so before shoppers came clamouring for their eleven o’clock fix.

With my lap top open and imagination racing, I began to write. My attention focused on weaving intrigue and creating conflict. My intrepid hero’s behaviour needed tailoring to push the plot forward. 

Lost in the world of my creation I allowed the words to flow. My friend would be along shortly. We met each week to write, chat and share the latest news on our publishing journey. Despite the activity around me my mind focused on the characters playing out their part in my newest chapter.

A shadow fell across my keyboard. I looked up, expecting to greet my friend.

Instead a stranger loomed over my table. His gaunt frame, sallow skin and hair resembling a chewed dog toy didn’t fill me with confidence. At least the café was a public place. No real danger.

What would my character do in this situation? Show no fear, nor dismay.

“Can I help you?” I asked, feigning genuine concern, trying to catch the attention of the wait staff.

“Yes. I need your help.” The stranger sank onto the vacant chair opposite me with his back to the public. Deep set eyes, sunken rather than natural depth, gazed around the café before fixing me with a piercing stare. “I have been watching, waiting for the right person to arrive. You.”

“Why me?” I asked before I remembered my character would be stoic, calm.

“You ordered Chai, in a specialist coffee shop. I am looking for someone who has the strength to stand against the current. Go against the flow, take the road less followed.”

“Enough.” I shook my head. Would my character explain I don’t like coffee? It does strange things to my heartbeat. No. Let the stranger think I possessed strength of character. I liked the idea. It didn’t fit me. Not shy, introverted, marsh-mellow me. Still, no harm in playing the part. “So, how can I help? If you are unwell, there is a great surgery around the corner. They take walk-ins and bulk bill.”

“I am dying. It is true. The doctors have done all they can.” The stranger’s gaze softened. The grey blue eyes glinted, assuming a faint resemblance of the colour they might once have been. A tic pulled at the stranger’s cheek. He lifted a hand, I thought to ease the anomaly, but he placed a small cube on the table beside my laptop. “The luckiest man alive gave this to me, now I am passing it on to you. He promised the cube would change my luck. Take heed and listen to my instructions.”

“You know the old advice, don’t accept gifts from strangers.” I concentrated on sipping my Chai and dragging my focus away from the odd cube.

“Not even when it is a dying man’s final request?” A smile lifted the corners of the stranger’s mouth. Sadly, bloody gums showed, though again, there seemed a remnant of once cared for perfect alignment to his remaining teeth.  “Do this, for luck. A simple task and you could be blessed with good luck. For the rest of your life.”

“You are not a walking advertisement for luck, mate. Really, you need to try another tack if you want to sell this scam.”

“Scam?” His eyes rolled and his shaking hand recoiled. “Not a scam. Please. Don’t refuse. I have no time left to find another soul with your attributes.”

Soul? Attributes? Nothing would make me accept his gift, nor did I want to waste more precious writing time chatting. His odour now overpowered the pervasive coffee grounds. Time to encourage him to leave.

As though reading my mind he began to speak. His voice flowed with hypnotic cadence.  “Take the cube. Roll it. Read the numbers. They change with each roll, somehow they know what you need whether you play lotto, the pools, power-ball, lucky-loot, whatever. Choose one game and take a gamble. There is a draw tonight. What is there to lose? If you don’t trust me, fine. At least give the lucky cube a chance. You will win. I guarantee it. The cube does not lose.” He straightened. “When you collect your winnings…” He paused and again his eyes seemed to regain their colour and energy. Every fibre of his body appeared tense. I sensed desperation and hope. “You must immediately donate the complete amount to charity. Any charity. Your favourite good cause. Don’t keep any of the money for yourself.”

“Why don’t you do this? Why do you need me? I can give you a few dollars for you to buy a ticket if you are so concerned. You don’t need me.”

“If you donate the win to a good cause, luck will follow you. Good luck, for a good deed.”

I blinked. Sudden realisation hit me with sledge hammer force. “Bad luck for a selfish deed? Is that what you did? Kept some of the winnings for yourself?”

He closed his eyes and lifted a hand to his forehead. I tried not to notice the clump of hair clinging to his fingers as he kneaded his furrowed brow. With shoulders slumped he again looked up. “It seemed too weird to believe. Once you have used the cube once, pass it on to another.” He glanced away. “Or destroy it if you can find a way.” He turned back and sighed. The simple act left him gasping for breath. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and leaned closer. Again I could sense lost energy, health and passion. He spoke in a hurried whisper, desperation scored each word. “It only works once. If you do the right thing, perhaps giving the cube to you might alleviate my guilt. I am desperate. Will you help me? Telling you my hopes might influence the outcome, but what do I have to lose? I am dying. Today is your lucky day. The cube is now yours.”

Without pausing to see if I accepted the gift the stranger grabbed a paper serviette and wiped spittle from his mouth. Staggering to his feet he strode away and disappeared into the crowded mall.

I wanted to rush after him and return the cube to his care.

What would my character do? Accept the cube? Find the stranger and return the odd gift? Take the chance and risk the gamble? Donate the win to charity? If the stranger told the truth. What should I do? Who couldn’t use extra luck? Good luck.

Scoffing my Chai, I snapped shut my laptop and sprinted from the café. Amid the bustle of rush hour I raced through the milling throng. I couldn’t see the stranger. His tall gaunt figure should stand out from manicured employees making their way to work.

Disappointed and needing to draw breath I halted my headlong rush. Trying not to pant aloud, my character never ran out of breath, I straightened.  Leaning against the shop front I gathered my wits.

Outside the mall’s newsagent and lottery office a sign caught my eye.

‘Thirty million dollars. Tonight’s draw. Try your luck’.

As the stranger said, what did I have to lose? Which charity would make the most of those millions?

If the cube provided the right numbers, perhaps a good deed would redeem the stranger. Perhaps his luck would change. He might live on.

What would my character do?

I headed inside to gamble on a change of luck.

***

Rosalie Skinner resides on the east coast of Australia when not totally immersed in the fantasy world of her writing.

Rosalie’s love of the ocean, nature, history and horses has enabled her to give her books an authentic air. Her latest achievement has been to ride through the Australian Snowy mountains and see the wild brumbies run. When not watching the migrating whales pass her doorstep she has more humble pastimes.

Other than being a published author, her greatest thrill is being a grandmother. Born over fourteen weeks early her granddaughter’s perfect development and growth are a miracle and joy.

Follow:  Blog,

 Website

Chronicles of Caleath Facebook 

A Gathering Of Fantasy Readers and Writers Facebook group