Carved from Darkness

The Magic

SYNOPSIS: A young man arrives in a new town to find that every single resident of this town acts like dogs (for a day? Forever? Who knows?). An alternate universe to The Call of the Wild by Jack London, but feel free to read this even if you haven't read the book.

What a terrible story to start with :,D

~#~

As soon as my foot met the sturdy wood of the boat dock below, I knew something was very, very wrong.

Townspeople, those of whose identities were unknown to me, stood on the cobblestone streets in the center of a ring of tarnished brick buildings. These people held torches, torches of flame, of fierceness, of war. Right in the middle was a fountain that looked as if it had not been spewing out water for ages.

Someone shoved me from behind. "What're you standin' there for, boy? Move it!"

"Sorry, sorry," I said, subconsciously adjusting the cap on my head and stumbling off the thin plank of wood that stretched across water. The cap was my only memory of home, aside from my worn suitcase, which held items of mystery. Mother had packed when I had forgotten.

From the dock, I was able to watch the whole horrifying, stunning death.

First, a small girl stepped from the steamboat which I had previously traveled upon, her clothes fashioned brightly and very ahead of the era. I felt myself smiling at her good-natured ways.

Then, the townspeople swung their torches in the direction of the girl, the tips glowing brighter.

"YOU!" they shouted in unison. I blinked, nearly falling into the murky waters below out of shock.

"Oh, hello!" The girl gave a small wave to the people, her grin broadening. "My name is Curly!"

"COME." The large assembly stumbled forwards, arms swinging, shoulders falling, as if they were of the undead. Curly flinched.

"Well, since you're coming to me, I guess I don't have to-"

"YOU ARE MAGIC," the townspeople said. "WE DO NOT WELCOME THOSE OF MAGIC."

My breathing stopped, tight in my throat. I leaned forward in anticipation, then drew back out of shame.

"W-What do you mean?" Curly's smile faltered, and she shrank down into her size. I watched in horror as a ribbon of purple light escaped from her palm. She gasped, and even the man who pushed me earlier stopped hissing curses at me, stunned.

"T-That's not real," she stuttered. "Special effects. See?"

She held up the video camera around her neck, smiling weakly.

"WE KNOW WHAT WE MEAN," the people said. "YOU MUST DIE."

And together, they charged.

They tore at her face with nails of metal, and she screamed a long, heartbreaking scream. Some held their torches to her clothes, blackening the bright yellow fabric and crawling up her arms and legs. Others leaped on top of her, growling, almost, shouting, "MAGIC IS INFERIOR! MAGIC SHALL BE PUNISHED!"

All the while, I stood, my mouth agape, my feet firmly rooted to the ground.

The death of a girl I had not known of before had shocked me to my soul, the image of her body and the sound of her screams forever engraved into my memories. Curly had fallen, and so had the townspeople, though it was them that ultimately gained.

Goosebumps erupted from my skin as I rushed past, staring at the ground and feeling unexplainable guilt hang upon me like a storm cloud.