Fenwick Family

Fenwick Family

  By Wolf Tucker

  The moral right of Wolf Tucker to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted.

  Copyright ? Wolf Tucker 2009

  All Rights Reserved

  All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Author website: https://www.wolftucker.com

  Publisher: https://www.wolftucker.com

  It was just another day in the Fenwick household. The house fairy, Lily, was busy dusting the shelves. The gnomes were tirelessly weeding the garden and grandfather was sitting in his favourite chair sucking on his transparent pipe. Grandfather was a ghost, but that didn't stop him from filling the house with the nauseating smell of tobacco.

  I was beginning to question my place in this family; I'm not like the rest of them, not at all. My father, for example, was the head of the divination comity; they predicted the weather and the stock market. My mother on the other hand, was a local celebrity of sorts, her wizzle-berry jams and pickle-berry tarts were taking the country by storm, there wasn't a single being in the magical community that hadn't heard of her jams.

  A black cat strut into the kitchen with its head held high, it eyed me with a look of distinct distaste as it made its way toward the other side of the kitchen table. I sat there munching on a slice of fruit toast, waiting for the questions to begin.

  The cat leapt into the chair opposite me and in a shimmer of colours, it ballooned out and transformed into my younger sister Rose. She was ten going on twenty and was under the misguided impression that the world revolved around her.

  Long black hair hung loosely framing a pale cherub like face with bright green eyes that always seemed to have an accusing glint to them.

  "Where's my toast?" Rose asked glancing over my shoulder at the kitchen counter.

  I snorted in amusement. "You're going to have to get up and make it yourself, princess. No one's here to wait on you today," I replied grinning.

  Rose frowned in confusion and glared at me. "What do you mean there's no one here? Where's mum?" Rose asked, the irritation was building in her voice.

  I took a big bite of my toast and left a long pause before answering her. I knew how impatient she was, she just couldn't stand waiting for anything.

  Rose's eyes squinted and her face began to redden.

  "Mum had to leave early for the open day at the Fenwick's festival of foods," I said with half a mouthful of toast. "The whole town is going to be there, I'm on my way there now."

  She looked about the kitchen as if she half expected that this was just some cruel joke that her older non-magical brother was playing on her.

  "You have to be kidding, mum would have woken me up," Rose stated.

  I took my last bite of fruit toast and laughed so hard I almost choked.

  I had to clear my throat before answering. "Wake you up, are you serious? No one would dare wake up the terrifying shape-shifting princess of Fenwick manor, the feline with cattitude, the puss in rhinestone covered kitten heel boots, the ?"

  "Enough, I get it, I'm a bit?grouchy in the morning, I get it," Rose said avoiding eye contact in a mild and rarely seen look that almost resembled shame.

  I chuckled as I left the table. "That's an understatement."

  For a second, she gave me a nasty sneer, which quickly turned into an odd smile.

  "Clay," Rose said my name as slow and sweet as she possibly could. "Could you make me some breakfast?"

  "No way, it's about time you started looking after yourself anyway," I said as I left the kitchen, I could hear a faint hiss as I headed up stairs.

  I went to my room and got out of my bedclothes and put on some blue jeans, a t-shirt and jumper and pulled on my sneakers then headed downstairs. At the front door, Rose stood waiting with her arms folded.

  "You can't go and leave me here alone," Rose said as if it was something totally unthinkable.

  I stopped in mid-step on the stairs. "And why is that?"

  "Because I want to go to the festival too," Rose whined, sticking out her bottom lip.

  I rolled my eyes and tried to think of some way I could go without having to take her with me.

  "You haven't even had any breakfast yet," I said.

  She shrugged and looked away from me. "Mum will let me get something to eat at the festival, she wouldn't let me starve," Rose said in casual tones as she started to analyse her fingernails.

  I pointed to the pink nightgown covered in My Little Pony patterns and the ridiculous fluffy pink slippers. "Look at yourself, you're not even dressed! How do expect to go like that?" I said, I was hoping that it would take her forever to go and get ready and I could then slip away without her noticing.

  But to my surprise, Rose had a new trick up her sleeve. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her clothes shimmered and the colours darkened and stretched and became a long black dress. It was plain but it was a change of clothes. I admired her talent and envied it at the same time.

  She opened her eyes and grinned up at me with a look of superiority on her face.

  "Basic black is easier than anything else and it's easy to imagine. It's the best I can do at the moment, I'm still learning," Rose said with a shrug. "Now let's go."

  I looked down at her feet; she was still wearing the fluffy pink slippers. "Are you sure you want to go out like that?" I asked smirking at her feet.

  She glanced down and moaned then shut her eyes once more and squinted really hard this time. The fluffy pink slippers shimmered, darkened and shrank into slim black shoes that looked like something a ballerina would wear.

  Rose looked at her feet and sighed with relief. "Finally," she groaned. "Now we can go." She opened the front door and led her way out to the dirt road on which we lived.

  I slammed the door behind me and followed the pint-sized annoyance out to the roadside, where Rose waited tapping foot. With a look of distaste she reluctantly gripped my bicep. I pulled out the gold ring that dad had given me for just such an occasion; it was a plain looking ring with runic writing on the inside that I couldn't understand. Without delay, I pushed it on my finger; it tingled and filled me with confidence. This was the only real magic that I had at my disposal and I longed for more, so much more. I lifted the ring high above my head and said, "To the festival of foods."

  In one giant blinding flash of light, we were transported to the roadside of the festival.

  There were huge tents and pavilions set up all over the enormous field that was usually used for Cromwell's splatter potion games, the game involved players hitting an opponent with a potion and turning them into a goose or other animal, the last man standing is the winner of the Cromwell trophy.

  There were tables and chairs set up all over the place, and huge crowds mulled about sampling the fine culinary delights. But the festival was so much more food, it was places were witches and warlocks could sell their magical wares.

  "I'm starved, I'm going to find mum," Rose grumbled as she stormed off.

  Rose dissolved into the bustling crowds of cloaked and hooded folks of all nationalities, from elves to warlock dukes to swamp hags, they were all here in their finest garb, but for a swamp hag the garb wasn't so fine.

  I was sure that the other reason Rose took off so fast was because she didn't want to be seen with her non-magical bro
ther, how embarrassing.

  For the first hour I spent my time wandering about taking in all the new entertainments that had been added since last year. There were flaming sword swallowers, flaming sword jugglers, and shape shifting masters who could change others just by touch alone. There were stone crafters who custom made living golems to act as bodyguards or home security.

  I was eyeing a pair of Gronkbee's magical sneakers of haste when I walked straight into a red-haired woman rugged up in a thick black cloak. She turned to me and snarled, "Watch where you're going."

  I mumbled an apology but she didn't stay long enough to hear it. As I lowered my head in embarrassment I noticed at my feet a small purple crystal that was smooth and polished like a river stone. I glanced around me then ducked down and snatched it up and fled into the crowd in the opposite direction the woman had gone, just in case it was hers.

  With the stone held tight in my hand, I rushed to the edge of the festival as far away from the crowds as I could get, only then did I unclench my fist to look at my mystery prize.

  In the sunlight it seemed to have shades of both purple and pink swirling around inside of the smooth palm sized crystal. There was one problem; I had no idea what it was meant to do or how to use it. Perhaps there was some kind of magical locking system on this thing, for all I know I could unleash a pack of hungry griffins.

  I looked around once more and shoved the stone deep into my jeans pocket and headed back into the festival. It wasn't long before I started to worry about losing the crystal myself, so I had to keep patting my pocket to make sure it was still there. I passed a table covered in amazing display of glass balls filled with the energies and talents of magical beings. It was then that I saw her, the red-haired witch in the black cloak. Her eyes widened and locked on me as if to say 'YOU' and she charged through a group of gossiping witches as she came after me. In a flash I turned and pushed my way back through the throng in the other direction.

  I punched my fist into my pocket and pulled out the stone and held it tight. The only chance I had was to get to the roadside from where I could teleport home and she would never know who I am. I emerged from the edge of the festival I took a chance and glanced back only to see the red-haired witch right behind me.

  In my haste I fell and felt a shattering crack beneath my palm. The stone was broken, it had smashed on the road into shards of purple and pink stone, most of which was embedded in my palm. It took a moment for the stinging pain to set in.

  "Now look what you've done, you little thief," growled the red-haired witch from behind me.

  I cradled my throbbing hand as blood began to well in my palm, but as I sat on the roadside a strange thing happened, a feeling of warmth filled my entire being and I thought that I was going to explode from the surge of power that flooded through me.

  In a matter of seconds the blood on my palm had completely dried and became a red dust that I tipped onto the road. My palm had healed, but beneath the surface a purplish light pulsed with an unnatural glow that beat like a human heart.

  The witch took a step back with a mixed look of horror and confusion on her pasty face, and in a flurry of black and red she whisked back into the pavilion.

  It was then that I felt a warm liquid running down my hand, I looked down and to my surprise what I saw was just as fantastic as what has just occurred. The teleportation ring had melted and dribbled down my arm and dripped a golden puddle on the dirt road. For a few moments I sat there with my mouth hanging wide open, this was unlike anything I had ever seen.

  But as I sat there a revelation dawned on me. I have magic inside me, I'm finally part of the family, and I'm no longer an outsider looking in.

  I stood with my new sense of confidence. Without any borrowed magic, I raised my hand in the air and said, 'home' and in a blinding flash of white light, I was home, finally.

  THE END

  Also by Wolf Tucker

  Tree stump

  Touch Piece

  The Old Lady

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  www.wolftucker.com

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