1. Mavela Spell
My name is Mavela, don't ask, my father named me after some favourite proverb of his.
My mother never had much of say in my name. She was quite a different sort of a mother, one of the most famous witches of her time, always signing autographs, always surrounded in blood-dripping fans. Mostly, my father looked after both me and my younger sister Quin.
There were two children in between me and Quin. Eva, our baby sister was a still born; we had more hopes for James, but let's just say he met a sticky end before the age of four years old. Quin was the fifth of the children, quin meaning fifth, another quirky pun of my fathers.
But you might ask, that only makes four? Well there is our older brother Charlie, he's left home already, studying in the course of wizardry.
These first parts, reminds some what of Harry Potter, but believe me, this story is completely different.
I've never had much, let's call it success in my life, always living in Charlie's shadow of accomplishments, my mother Eriden, want's me to inherit the mind for a witch, but I seriously can't take it all that seriously.
I'm more of the 'lost hope' in the family.
A small furry head nuzzles me affectionately as my hand reaches to her soft silken skull. "Hey sweetie" I mutter lifting her to my lap. Her raven-hued coat shimmers slightly, as I play with her fur, fondling it between my fingers.
My hands lift to her collar, a blue laced one, weaved as fine as a spiders web, my hands trace the spindly strings as I read over her the name tag: Russen,17 Cooliblee road.
It was my dad who had come up with that name again; Russen. I can't remember his incentives; she was one of mums 'bribes' to get me into witch-craft.
"Mav!" came a screech up the stairs, I look half-heartedly
"I know! I know!" I yell back down the echoing fortress of stairs, my hand flies to a large emerald book, a snake head printed to the cover, again my fingers trace it's familiar patterns as I turn over the pages in some despair. The bed's red scarlet quilts are crumpled beneath my form. Leaning onto my stomach, i fondle the edges firmly, feeling their withered edges beneath my soft skin.
I smile, I had already practiced this one, a simple wave of the hand. For it's number, it was probably one of the easiest spells in the book. "Chissum" I whisper as a small ghostly outline of two doves embrace between my hands, mums homework again.
Something hurled through my window, and instantly sitting up I rub my hand where a small bump is appearing on the back of my head.
I run to the window, head leaning out into the moon cresented evening.
"Lucas!" I whisper, as I eagerly climb down the trellis, landing promptly before the straw-hued haired boy. "Hey" I can feel the words rumble through my ears, as I carefully watch his reaction.
I feel his arms around me before I hear his words, the same familiar "I love you Mav". My own arms embrace him, as I throw my reddy-brown hair over my shoulder. He too was one of my kind, studying for sorcery, perhaps one of the hardest studies.
I allow my hands to intertwine in his hair as I lean deeper into his chest, listening to the small thud of his heart against his ribcage. These were the moments I liked to remember, the feeling of safety. However he felt different today.
"What's wrong?" I ask pulling away from him, his eyes are downcast, and a distant expression creases over his face.
"Mav…" he pauses, grabbing my hand, his grip is cold and icy, and I withdraw it quickly. A startled expression drove to my features as my emerald eyes blink in some confusion.
What's going on?
I begin to wonder what indeed he is trying to tell me through his slow sentences. But whilst pondering I notice almost a manic grin spread over his face.
Oh, this was delightful. What next?
I feel his lips on mine before I have time to react, normally I'd press mine further into his but I pull away. "Stop! Lucas…what's going on?" it's more or a demand now than a question.
His eyes swivel for a moment before resting on my own.
"Mav, I have to go"
"Not again…." I stutter as his eyes grow distant again, their dark colouring disappearing behind his eye-lid. "No Lucas!" I growl as I feel myself groping for his hand.
"I'm sorry Mav, it's worse this time"
I could hear the whimper in his voice. Why did he have to leave, we had just found each other. His skin was growing seemingly paler. "You have to let go" he whispered pulling free "I love you Mav"
"No" I breathe but he disappears to a small whisp of smoke. The night air whips around my nightie, and again I feel alone. I sit to the grass, feeling the tears well in the corner of my eyes. This wasn't fair, why did he have to go? Where did he go?
The thought ran again around my mind where did he go? I mean, there's not a lot of places one can go to, a sixteen year old, didn't have a lot of means of transport. I get a few strange looks by late comes walking past the street as I sit in upmost confusion on the grass.
An old lady in particular bugs me, so I shoot her a definite glare. It's like she's solely offended. Good for her.
"MAV!" my mothers voice seems endless, a fiery burden that can never be put out.
"I'm coming!" I yell, climbing swiftly back into my bedroom, jumping onto my bed and opening the spell book before me. Russen looks at me with some interest before closing her emeralds and contentedly bowing her head to sleep.
"I'm here!" I grumble slouching off my bed and walking to the banister. She's standing at the bottom, her hands on her hips and a cold glare reciprocating from her face.
A wonder lightning hasn't struck yet.
"Mavela!" her voice chided as I slouch angrily down the stairs "don't look at me like that young lady!" she hisses.
Looking at her like what? An evil zombie…?
I roll my eyes as if trying to explain to her to seriously grow up. Again, I can hear her voice raging, yes, I'll just smile at her nod my head in agreement.
It'll blow over by the morning.
"don't you 'yes mother' me!" she snorted as another black cat wound round her ankles. I curl my lip in slight annoyance at the cat. It's one of these cats you never say anything within ear-shot about.
I swear my mother cursed it, with some 'human' qualities.
At the moment, a small hiss escapes it mouth as it's yellow eyes lock to mine. Oh grow up! Puh-lease!
"Oh Grenin, you listen to mummy". She picked him up allowing the little greaseball to rub against her chin.
"Oh careful mum…" I drawled in "careful you don't get a wart". With a fleeting glance at my mothers blood red robes I turned my back on her re-climbing the stone stairs.
I could feel her glance penetrating through my spine and the soft patter of paws behind me. It was her yellow-eyed cat. Scoffing at it, I glared at it disdainfully. A murmur crept from up the passage, and turning I saw Quin.
Stifling a yawn she looked at me with some disagreement.
"What?" I groaned slapping the door, so that Grenin's nose had to be quickly removed from getting jarred in the door.
Russen sat up, almost sympathetically; her sleek coat made her hard to see in the dark, but then, that was how I liked her.
Her eyes scanned to mine as they darted quickly to the window. I released an infuriating huff as lying on my bed, with a swipe of my hands I ordered them to fall shut.
You know, most people would love to be encouraged to do magic. Except me. I always try to act normal, eat with a knife and fork. But then, that's why my mother and I don't get along. She's always "knife this…" etc, etc, and frankly I'm quite sick of it.
The only bad thing is I can't unfurl my destiny. I'm destined in my blood to become something close to 'magnificent'. I don't see how warlock genes induce that, but then, blame my mother. Her whole blooming family were highly skilled witches.
Why use magic for goodness anyway. I mean that's practically the only reason my mother uses it. To create magical remedies for some of her 'sick' followers, or for pharmacists that believe her to be an ex-chemistress, or whatever the word is.
It's all herbal remedies. Screw herbal remedies.
I want power.
I want to have people shrink beneath the very presence of my blood
I want to be unforgotten.
I want to be….
At least that's what I told my mother, she just scoffed at me. My father doesn't think that much, I actually begin to wonder if there is a brain at all enclosed within those thick sided skulls.
That's being a bit unfair actually, he did look after us. Why he practically raised us. No thanks to my mother. I mean my father, yes his magic, he can only take the shape of bed-warmers and what not. I mean wow.
That's how they met anyway.
Dad was a trapped warlock within a bed-warmer. Whatever inspired that I have not got a clue. But anyway, my dad insisted on 'floating' after my mother till she bought the darn bed-warmer and bought him home. Thank heavens those mortals didn't see them.
It would have been all of the news. 'Flying bed-warmer'
Geesh. Can you imagine it?
No, of course not, you're just a mortal.
In some disinterest I stroke Russen approvingly, listening to her rowdy purr as she sits on my stomach as I flop to the cushions.
She's not anything like that hideous specimen of mums cat. Grenin.
She thought that Grenin could teach Russen 'a thing or two'.
The only thing Russen learnt was not to ever listen to Grenin, and keep out of his name..
And my mothers for that matter.
"MAV" comes another shriek.
I quickly turn out my bedroom light, lying still on my bed-covers.
I can't hear footsteps but idly the door creeps open, an eye stares over me…
I dare not breathe.
Russen hiss's slightly but the door closes, sending my room back into darkness.
That's how I like it.
Well well, my first chappy.
Please review. This one has worked out really well. As it is of course, beginnings are never the best..so….review!
greMmers luffs you.
Thanxs Secluded Existence…many thanks. Lol, muggles was meant to be mortals. My friend was playing harry potter beside me as I was writing it :p