B is for Steel Blue

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“Do you remember the colour of your first spell?”

It was an off question. He had never thought about it. He had never associated colour to magic. Then again, he rarely associated anything with colour.

“I remember the intensity,” he offered, “I remember the feeling and what it caused. I remember the soundtrack of tears that led to it.”

“Yes, but what of its colour! What did the spell look like?”

He paused a full ten minutes… then three minutes more. She remained patient till she saw the light return to his eyes.

“It… it was blue. Steel blue. Kind of... no, it was blue. Steel blue.”

It was the night of the rainstorm. The night he pulled away from crowd consciousness. The night when he decided to take from the sky what he had always hoped was his.

“I was playing. I was… tricking myself into believing while… not believing. Does that make sense?”  Her smile held the answer.

“It was becoming blacker by the hour and the stars wouldn’t call me master. The moon wouldn’t come and if I listened closely, I could hear a snicker and the people’s laughter. I don’t know why I became so angry, I was playing after all. But it was the thunder. It… it said, “try harder”. So I conjured. In the storm. As the rain mirrored my years of tears, I conjured it. Till a strand of steel blue lightening peeped through. And once I caught sight of it, I knew, play time was over. I had the ability of The Conjurer. Steel blue. That was its colour.”

She drew closer, “Do you see now?”

“Yes. All magic has colour. All LIFE has colour.”

“Yes.” She reached in and kissed him tender.

It drained him, pleasantly.

“What power!” he said in-between breaths.

She smiled as she lay hold of the dagger, “What do you know of power.”

In her whisper, he heard the roll of thunder…

* Last night, i saw standing, waiting for a taxi to go home. Reports of heavy rain, thunder and lightening strikes were all over the country. I stood there in the capital with the wind hitting me and watched lightening dance. So, because i guess i have a "power complex" or something, started spinning [discretely] my long umbrella. Did it seven times. Stamped it on the ground, three. And while, the earth didn't open or magic leap from the clouds.... i did get a story out of it. I WAS going to end it happier. You know, positive: yay you! follow your power. Master your world and such! But we know it's not always like that. BEST OF ALL, this little intro seals up a bit of a back story to one of my characters' short pieces. Manuscript One is done.. we are pleased. Pax.