The Accounts of Ruby Zibane: The Heirloom

Chapter 6

*Author's Note* Eureka! I've done it! Chapter 6 finally finished! I apologize for the long wait to those who read my story. Thanks for waiting!

And please comment if you like it and vote if you love it! Thank you! (Apologies for any confusion or errors.)

Chapter 6

                   I look at him skeptically. “Okay… so they’re spotty sorcerer teenagers in costumes?”

                   He points to the picture of the dragon. “How do you expect that to be a spotty teenager in a costume?”  

                   I shrug. “Robot? Special effects? An extremely intricate puppet? The possibilities are endless you know.”

                   “They’re…sorcerers,” Chester says even more slowly than before. “Why can’t you understand that? They’re sorcerers!”

                   “Sheesh. Sorry if I’m not a nerd who plays Wizards 101.” I look at the pictures again, trying to find something ‘magical’ about them. Emphasis on the quotes around ‘magical.’ “Okay. So him,” I point to the first picture of the man in animal skins. “Is he that guy from the Castaway?”

                   “The what?” Chester questions.

                   “You know, that movie where the dude has a volleyball as a friend… No? Never mind then.” I cough awkwardly and lean further in my chair.

                   “He’s a caveman,” Chester says quickly, obviously trying to avoid more of my volleyball nonsense.

                   “A caveman? One of those single-minded humans who drew on walls and were terrified of fire? Those types of cavemen? How the hell could a caveman be a sorcerer?”

                   “I don’t know! But they were, all right? I mean, how else could they have created the medallion? Cavemen created the ring shape,” he ends indignantly. I consider correcting him that the wheel has been around far before the caveman and that technically Mesopotamians created the first wheel… but judging by his expression I can tell he’s pretty annoyed already.

                   “Somehow… I don’t believe you right now,” I say in bemusement.

                   Chester buries his face in his hands and mumbles something that sounds either like curse words or a prayer of strength. “I’ve got proof,” he says eventually. He points to an oddly shaped necklace around the caveman’s picture’s neck. “One of my business partners printed this picture out for me today. The caveman is actually a figure at a nearby museum.”

                   “Oh, okay!” I exclaim, trying to put as much sarcasm into my voice as possible. “So the supposed ‘caveman sorcerer’ is really a dusty wax figure at a crummy museum! Everything makes sense now!” I roll my eyes and mouth ‘not.’

                   “Look at the damn picture!” he practically yells at me. The only time I’ve seen someone that mad at me was when I had burned off my science teacher’s eyebrows and the seat of his favorite pants. I grab the picture from him sulkily and peer at the caveman’s necklace. My eyes widen as I press the picture closer to my face. Although the picture is grainy and reeks of coffee I still make up a chunk of rock around the caveman’s neck with a minute caveman painting right in the middle…