Attempting Irony

Todays prompt is going to be a hard one. That’s for fucking sure. Mainly it’s because I have no energy today. I am just absolutely 100% out of it. But, such is the weekend.

A Year of Writing Prompts by Brian A. Klems & Zachary Petit
January 3
A Cold Where you (Fill in the Blank) Instead of Sneeze
“You’ve developed a cold, only to discover that instead of sneezing, you (fill in the blank) every time you feel like you have to sneeze. This side effect proves to create a fairly entertaining scene at the office during your weekly budget meeting.”

Terry clutched the phone in his hands, listening to the ring on the other line. With any luck no one would answer and he could leave a message on the office answering machine. That was his best bet to avoid today altogether. No one at work would understand.
Although, the line clicked and Sheila answered the phone.
“Morgan, Pollock, and Masters, Magician Bounty Hunter.”
Terry pinched his nose.
“Sheila, It’s me, I’m not going to be able to come in today. I feel terrible.”
“Oh no, that’s not good! Well we will miss you at the financers meeting. The head from the state is coming in to talk to us about funding. I’m sure Lowell won’t mind. You get better.”
“Thank you,” Terry said from halfway down his throat.
The line clicked and went dead.
Relief flowed through his body and that’s when he could feel it surge. Terry craned back his head, his mouth gaping, and he let out the loudest sneeze, but with it came a puff of smoke and a young child appeared from within.
The young lad stepped from the thinning cloud and looked around Terry’s unkempt apartment. Panic was beginning to blossom in his face, as his lower lip trembled. There would only be a few moments before the boy exploded into tears. A crying child was the last thing his neighbors needed to hear. They knew he lived alone.
“Hey, buddy,” he said in a sickening sweet voice, “It’ll be okay.”
The young boy wrapped his arms around his stomach.
“Where am I?” He said stepping away from terry.
“It’s okay,” he said, “This is all a dream.”
The boy’s eyes grew wide.
“Really?” he said, “I don’t remember taking a nap. I was shopping with mommy.”
“Yeah, you fell asleep under some coats. She’ll find you in a second.”
The boy looked perplexed.
“How do you know that?”
“Cause this is a special dream.”
Preceded by a large gasp, terry sneezed again and the boy vanished from the room.
“Thank the gods,” he said.
The last few sneezes had become even more infrequent and produced the most horrible of momentary guests. At least the kid disappeared before he could cry. The one woman shrieked so much the nosey neighbor next door came poking around to make sure everything was “okay.” Terry wasn’t sure that he had bought that it was tv program he had been watching.
Now without the worry of work looming before him, terry rushed to the kitchen and began to concoct a potion to end this magical mishap. It wasn’t entirely obvious where he had gotten the calling cold but he had it never-the-less. He must have gotten it when he had been on assignment in Southron and they raided that sorcerer’s drug den. It had been absolutely unsanitary.
He was certain that had been where.
The ingredients came quick to his mind. This wasn’t the first time he’d have to brew one. He had gotten the same thing back in school. Luckily, his parents could excuse him and no one would ever learned he was a blossoming magician.
Pulling the sage from the cupboard he could feel another sneeze building. He tensed his face muscles and refused to let it out. Though try as he might it had a will of it’s own and he blew. This time he conjured a flock of parakeets that fluttered furiously around his apartment.
“I can deal with this,” he said.
He bustled around the kitchen pouring each item into his battered black cauldron. He stirred it the appropriate amount of times until it turned a beautiful lavender and he knew it was ready. He couldn’t ladle it fast enough into a copper mug.
Just as the rim touched his lips the phone began to ring. He looked over at the caller ID and it was the offce number. His blood went cold and he sneezed again, dispelling the birds back to wherever they had come from.
He set the steaming cup down and answered the phone, pinching his nose as he did it.
“Hello,” he moaned.
“Tare, look I know you’re sick but Sgt. Errol is coming and I know he will be absolutely pissed if you’re not here. He is insistent that he meets you. He wants to meet the man who took down the Black Ranfort warlock.”
Terry moaned again.
“Boss, I would love to but I can’t-“
“Terry, if you do you know we’ll get more money than we could ever need to take down these filthy magicians. Don’t you want to be the guy named the man who eradicated all things magical?”
Not really, he thought.
“I would, yes. But I can’t even get off the couch, Rick.”
“Look, if you come in I’ll give you the raise you’ve been hounding me for.”
Terry gulped. That raise had been his mission the past two years. It would give him enough money to move out of the tiny apartment he lived in, that he now noticed was covered in bird shirt and feathers.
“See you in a few.”
Before Terry could argue his boss ended the call.
For a brief moment panick gripped his chest, but then the saw the cup gleam out of the corner of his eye. He chugged it and waited, but within only a few moments he sneezed again, producing a pair of old men playing chess, table and all. But he didn’t have time to explain, he hurried around his apartment trying to get ready. Although he didn’t want to look too good. He put on a white shirt, top button undone, a striped tie as slap-dash as he could get it, and a brown coat. He put on his glasses and messed up his hair and then tried to wrestle it into something decent.
By the time he was dressed and ready to go he sneezed again and the men disappeared.
He hurried as quick as he could and got to the office without a single sneeze. That would mean the potion was working. He just needed to trust his skill.
He climbed the steps to the fourth floor office just o wear himself out and appear more sickly. This wasn’t his first rodeo. By the time he entered the office he was sweaty, red faced, and breathing heavily.
“Terry! You look awful.”
He could barely speak so instead waved and nodded.
“Go right on in.”
He wound his way around the cubicles to the conference room and entered. Everyone stood, especially Sgt. Errol.”
“Son,” he said, shaking his hand, “I really admire your moxy. If I was as sick as you I’d have told my boss to go fuck himself and not come in.”
Everyone laughed nervously.
“This is why I wanted to meet you. You are the best. I’ve been keeping an eye on you. I knew you were something special. It’s guys like you that will take down this magical menace and-“
The sneeze built in his chest, which prompted him to swallow air.
“You alright?”
Terry nodded as he cosed his eyes an concentrated.
“Course you are!” Sgt. Errol said, slapping him on the back.
Terry sneezed and in a puff of smoke appeared a man, bathing in a shower on top of the table.  The water slowly trickled away out of the shower head, as the man looked out of the clear curtain.

Prompt 3 of 31

(Stupid holidays and the preparation for them. I got sidetracked cleaning my house and then actually celebrating the fourth that I haven't posted. I'll be playing catch up today.)

The Writer's Book of Matches pg. 121 "An old man returns to the tree in which he carved the initials of his long lost childhood sweetheart."

Gerald Whaley leaned heavy on his cane as he traversed the rough dirt path to the field. His mission was to reach the tree where he had carved the initials of he and his high school love, Tabitha Green. The satchel slung over his left shoulder weighed him down and made the journey harder than it would have been even if it didn't exist. But the trip would have been worthless if he hadn't brought it, so he took it in small careful stride.

Everything looks nothing alike, he thought to himself. His cloudy aged eyes looked up, when he felt it safe too, from the road and around him. None of it was familiar. It amazed him still, even after his eighty years of life, how the world, nature, was so liquid. It changed so quick and drastically. Even when he pulled up in his beat up Toyota Tercel he wasn't sure that he had gone to the right dirt parking lot off of the highway. But he was certain it had to be. The landscape may easily deceive him but his mind did not. That was still as spry and wary as it had been when he had carved those initials. It was his body that had turned against him.

He stopped at the edge of a rickety bridge, that crossed over a trickling creek. Below it was brambles and sharp stones that jutted up through the creek bed like teeth. He took a breather and judged the safety of the passageway.

"I don't know about this," he mumbled to himself. He opened his mouth and scratched his cheek with his free hand.

Gerald followed the path on the other side of the bridge. It wound behind the hill out of sight. But atop that hill, only a short distance away, was the tree.

---------------------------

(start time: 9:57, 7/7/13)

"Not far now," Gerald said to himself.

He grabbed ahold of the single banister on the bridge. Luckily it was his left and with the assistance of his cane he traversed the obstacle. When he got to the other side he released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. With one look back at the bridge he smiled and continued on the path to the tree.

He set his satchel down immediately. The weight had begun to get the best of him. Without it he moved with a new energy and traipsed around the trunk, his hands feeling along the rough bark. He had gone almost entirely around when he found it. It was higher than he had remembered but there it was. The initials wrapped tightly in a heart. HIs index finger traced the letters and border, and he smiled.

His mind whirled to life from the memory. He closed his eyes and was instantly transported back to the moment he and Tabitha had lain together beneath this tree and became one. It had been his first time, although he never mustered the courage to ask the same of her. He just wanted to assume that it was.

In the final moment of their passion Tabitha screamed out that she loved him and Gerald just remained silent. It had been awkward when they had dressed, and even more so on the ride home.

Gerald opened his cloudy eyes. Tears began to form beneath the powder blue of his irises.

He pressed his lips together and shook his head. He was going to undo that mistake. The beginning of all the missed chances in his life. He loved his children but their mother had been a witch he was expected to marry. The only thing she had taught him was that everything could be undone with life. You just had to make the sacrifice.

Gerald turned and leaned against the trunk. Using both hands he guided himself until his rear rested on the earth. He caught his breath that had fled in the struggle and grabbed the satchel. He flipped open the leather flap, retrieved the book from within, and tossed the bag aside.

"No going back," he told himself.

He opened it up and found the proper spell. He had followed all of the instructions thus far, remember. Now he just had to pay the debt. He reached into his pocket for his knife and followed the second step of the instructions, he slit his wrist horizontally and vertically on his palm.

Gerald held his head back and made sure his hand found the etching.

Looking down he read the words.

At first there was nothing. He just felt the warm blood running down his arm and wrapping around to pool at the crook of his neck and shoulder; his body grew weak.

He read the words again slower, enunciating each syllable.

Nothing.

His heart began race. Had he made a mistake, he kept thinking. But he began to realize even if he had he didn't care. He was where he had been the most happy.

He closed his eyes, leaned his head against the tree, and remembered. Everything once again alive to him. The sounds of the cicadae, the summer breeze brushing against his sweaty skin, the smell of the blooming flowers on the hill. He could hear the soft breaths of Tabitha.

Opening his eyes he was back.

He pushed himself up and looked around.

"What's the matter?" Tabitha said.

He looked at her from behind his circular glasses. her naked form laying seductively on the striped blanket.

"I-" he said trying to find the words for his joy.

Then he did the only thing he wanted. He leaned in and kissed her with all the passion that had been held back behind the societal façade.

She playfully pushed him back.

"Where did that come from?" she said, laughing.