Realistic or Modern small town magics

[saturday shorts]

Vaughn pinched the cartilage of his ears between his fingers and rubbed absentmindedly, feeling the soft skin moving against the bumpy not-quite-bone, the tips of his fingers just brushing against one of his piercings. He was sat on the bus, legs cramped from sitting for too long and entire body jolting every few seconds as the bus rammed over bumps and cracks in the road. The further they got from the city the shittier the roads got. No money for infrastructure in these parts.

The scenery slowly changed from tall buildings to rolling countryside to run down buildings as the bus grumbled slowly into town center, past sagging suburbs and empty businesses. Vaughn winced as his finger caught on a ring after a particularly nasty speed bump and pulled away from the window. It’d been a while since he’d been back here. Not excessively so, but enough to have just forgotten what his home town looked like. How small it was.

He wasn’t exactly returning a champion either, being a dropout. Which his parents were also not aware of yet. They also just weren’t aware of his coming home but he was sure they wouldn’t mind. As the bus trundled through the center nearing its stop he could see peoples heads turning just idly before returning to whatever they were doing. The bus coming in was probably one of the more interesting things that would happen that day. He hopped up as it hissed and squealed to a halt and hitched his bag up onto his shoulders, hefting a suitcase down from the upper level.

“Thank you!” He chirped, and thumped down the stairs. A few people stayed on the bus, going to another stop that he didn’t know the name of. He couldn’t imagine a town smaller than this. Pulling his resistant case across the lumpy pavement, he stopped at the ticketing office. A goblin stared him down, and he plastered a wide grin across his face.

“Hey Mr. Pemmel! Still taking care of the tourists huh?” Mr Pemmel had never liked Vaughn, and it didn't seem like that opinion had changed. Sometimes the heart really didn't get fonder with time.

He grumbled taking Vaughns ticket, punching a hole into it with a satisfying shink of the silver puncher. “Never tourists. Always just wanderers coming back home.”

Vaughn shrugged and grabbed the small ticket before continuing on, pushing out of the door into the cold air. He shivered, and pulled his scarf further up his cheeks, burying his face into as he hurried down the street. His house wasn’t far enough away to bus but just far enough to be an inconvenience walking to. It still wasn’t a long enough distance to calm down the panicked flip flopping of his stomach though, as he went over increasingly stranger reasons for coming back, into this town of mostly humans and not enough magic and certainly not enough friends.

Raising his hand, he knocked on the door. He still had permission to enter, but it’d been long enough that there was still a drag of old magic pooling around his feet, the fae laws grasping with lax fingers, weak enough for him to shake off.

It pulled open after a small racket of voices, and then he was staring into his mother's face. There was a standoff for a second, both of them studying each other. Vaughn opened his mouth, ready to launch into some long winded obviously-a-lie story before he was pulled into a hug, face buried into his mother's knitted sweater.

“Oh Vaughn honey, we missed you.”

ShadyAce nymphadora.

 

[nymphadora.]

If they sang Wonderwall one more time, Lola swore she was going to throw herself out of the van.

Travelling on the road had its ups and down. Lola loved thrill and the adventure of it all, meeting new people in unknown cities, living in dingy motels and off cheap meals; it was the perfect lifestyle (if you could call it that) for the free-spirited woman. But every now and then, Lola couldn't but feel nostalgic melancholy for home. However, Lola wasn't sure if she was going to survive in the van for another minute longer.

The last time Lola was in town was when she was eighteen. Fresh out of high school with her braces finally gone and jars full of savings from working at the local diner. The plan was originally supposed to be university, her acceptance letter was already sitting on her vanity in her bedroom, but Lola never stepped foot on the campus grounds. Instead, she hitch-hiked her way into the city with a drummer and his garage band.

Her arms clung onto her satchel, knees tucked up to her chest, as she tried to ignore the out of tune wailing from the rest of the passengers. Lola's pockets weren't exactly loaded and, whether it was out of pure luck or a sign from the universe, the band she was with were planning to drive through her old hometown. Her head ached from leaning against the window, and her legs begged to feel the ground once more. As the scenery changed and she was greeted with the familiar welcome sign, Lola gingerly sat up and yelled.

"This is it!"

Lola yanked the van's door and climbed out, stretching her long legs and pulling her suitcase out behind her. With a one final group hug from the band and her fellow groupies, she waved goodbye and watched the clunky van disappear down the road. God, she hoped they didn't get lost.

Lola wandered into the town with a sweet smile on her lips. It felt like forever since she was last in town yet it seemed nothing had changed like the town was stuck in time. The town almost felt smaller, cozier maybe? She couldn't quite place her finger on it, but it felt good to be home. Her brain went into autopilot mode as she crossed the street and headed down another one.

The sentimental feeling in her stomach quickly bubbled into a sickening anxiousness. She hadn't quite told her dad about her sudden change in the plan all those years ago, let alone what she had been up to since she left. Lola's grip on her suitcase became slippery as her palms became clammy. Shit.

Lola debated about turning around. She could find a telephone and use the leftover change in her pocket to phone a friend, beg to be whisked away and forget about telling her dad the truth or explain why she had two scorpions stained on her palms. It sounded like a reasonable plan, but it was too late to put it into action once her hand knocked against the front door.

"Guppie?"

Standing in the door frame was a tower of a man, his face lined with tired and worn lines, and same dark eyes she inherited. Lola was locked in a tight bear of a hug, her spine felt like it was about to crack into a million if her dad clung onto to her for another moment longer.

"Hi dad."

ShadyAce saturday shorts

 

[ShadyAce]

Niklaus glanced out upon the expansive roads, his vision shaded by the tinted glasses on his face. His eyes flickered to the fuel gauge, which rested an inch above empty. He floored his foot, music pouring out of the windows as he sped past other vehicles dangerously, one hand on the wheel as he weaved between anything in his way on the road.

He pulled into a gas station, rust on the edges of the pump, and rough patches on the ground. No one came here.

"Oh my god, are you Niklaus?"

Supposedly, his fans still came here. He spun on his heels, taking off his glasses with a devilish smirk plastered on his face. "You caught me." After dealing with excessive, ear-piercing screeching and signing some pieces of paper under the promise they wouldn't tell anyone where they'd seen him, Niklaus paid for his gas and drove out with a roar of the engine.

There was never a distinct destination in his mind, he followed the roads and turns as they unfolded in front of him, his limbs moving before his brain ever had a chance to process the decision. Although he did feel the deep-seeded melancholy that had been gnawing away at his mind like a parasite. The irony felt like black tar being shoved down his throat; how was it that in a career of expression none of his words felt like his own?

It seemed his subconscious had been yearning to bathe in nostalgia. He rolled into the town, slowing down to scan the streets with a rosy lens. The tarred streets still had a distinctly dark colour, hardly worn by tires, though his eyes were drawn to the thin alleys between tall, red brick shop fronts decorated with banners and flowers to draw in people passing by. No one ever stopped, unless this was their destination, despite the locals' efforts to make it a tourist destination.

Niklaus had left the moment he was eighteen, not willing to throw a glance over his shoulder back into the small town he had grown up in. He had thought there was nothing there for him here, and that there was a world ahead of him. A sinking sense of guilt and dread settled in his stomach; he'd left behind more than just a town. His arms sagged and his clutch on the wheel weakened as his gaze continued to peruse the streets. Even though there was hardly anything to look at, he was fully focused.

The run down car - Niklaus had stolen it, his standards were typically higher - spluttered as he stopped in front of his mother's home. The caravan sat with rusted wheels, and pieces of cloth hanging out to create what she probably though of as a luxury deck. Niklaus fumbled with the cigarette held lazily in his fingers, taking in one last breath, before throwing the cigarette on the lawn, not bothering to put out the lit end. A "fuck you" slipped out of his lips, hardly audible as he started the old car with a choking noise as the engine struggled to engage.

He had only gotten five minutes away from his childhood home before the car slowed to a stop, the hood of the vehicle leaking out a dark smoke. He slammed the car door, leaving the hunk of metal sitting in the middle of a quiet suburban street and stormed off. It wasn't far from here. After running off, Niklaus had never called back, let alone told anyone where he'd gone. A doubt had always gnawed at his insides; what if they didn't want him back?

Suddenly he found his feet dragging up onto the pavement in front of a modest screen door. His stomach was contorted with overwhelming anxiety - he felt like he was going to throw up and faint simultaneously. Niklaus held his fist up to the door, hovering just above the surface to knock. They didn't know he was returning home, Niklaus could still turn back, as though none of this ever happened. But even before he could knock, the door swung open.

"Niklaus?" the old man's eyes were wide. Niklaus didn't remember them being so sunken, nor the lines on his face being so visible.

Time stood eerily still as they silently surveyed one another.

"Hey. Long time, no see."