Improvisus (probably not updating again)

Chapter 3 (Revised)

I awoke to a beam of sunlight shining on my face. I groaned and rolled out of the line of light that passed through my curtains.

As I settled on my side I felt something dig into my arm, and felt around for whatever object that had somehow gotten into my bed. After feeling around and not finding anything, I finally felt something and wrapped my fingers around it and brought it up to my face so I could see what it was.

I opened my eyes and the second I saw the object, the memories that I had hoped to be false from the previous night came flooding back.

Magic: the only word that could describe the unusual events of the past night.

I gazed at my wand and saw that there were some intricate designs that were green and stuck out against the brown base. The green designs looked like vines wrapping around a tree trunk. It was thin and about twelve inches long. My eyes focused on a certain area and I squinted so I would be able to see the one spot on the wand that was different. Carved into the wood there appeared to be a word: morior. I shivered as I figured out what it meant: die.

I didn’t realize how on edgeI was until Nat’s quiet whisper filled the room. “Candace, are you awake?” I jumped and the tension slowly eased its way out of my shoulders. My knuckles were white from gripping my wand so tightly, but I slowly loosened my grip.

“Yeah,” I replied.

“What if the reason my parents are dead is because of magic?” I rolled over so I was facing Nat’s bed and saw that she was slowly turning her wand in her hands, which I had helped her get after we had discovered the mysterious note left for us on the closet door.

“Why do you say that?” I asked carefully, “I know Mom and Dad aren’t good at telling us things but I doubt they would hide something like that from you.”

“Well last night I couldn’t fall asleep because I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened. Whenever I can’t sleep I try to remember little things about my parents because it calms me down, you know? I tried to remember their deaths and I don’t know if it’s the magic in me or something, but suddenly memories came flooding back to me.

“I know Steve and Emma said that my dad died in the army during his term in Iraq, but I remember the day he left and he had said he was going on a business trip. I never remember him wearing those clothes that people in the army wear either. I don’t think he was even in the army, let alone killed in it. Then there’s my mom.  I know she had cancer and everything, but the doctors were pretty sure she would live. Then one day she was suddenly gone, even though she was being treated and had no signs of getting worse.”

Silence filled the room once again as I thought about what Nat had said. I wasn’t sure how true her memories could be, considering she was only four at the time, and I scarcely remembered the funerals of her parents, both happening in the same month. I hadn’t fully understood death at the time, and was happy that my best friend would get to live with us. I didn’t know that Nat would never see her parents again. “Nat, are you sure you’re right about those memories? It happened about fourteen years ago. Maybe your brain just made up memories to fill the empty spots so you could have something to blame,” I gently said. I didn’t want to hurt Nat, but giving her false hope was just as bad. “Then again you could be right; I wouldn’t say it isn't a possibility after everything that happened last night.”

“There’s only one way we’re going to know and two people who would know the truth. I guess we’re going to have to ask Steve and Emma to tell us the truth.” I glanced at the clock and saw that it was already eleven o’clock.

“Dad’s probably working and Mom probably has a client in the salon right now.” Despite being a Saturday, both of my parents worked since Dad’s schedule was just as unpredictable as any other lawyer and Mom’s busiest day was Saturdays since most people had off and came to get their hair done. I also didn’t want to disappoint Nat, because knowing that we had possibly been lied to for fourteen years didn’t reassure me that Mom and Dad would tell us the truth now.