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16/M/kampala, Uganda
Join Date: Jul 2005 |
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Chapter 2
“The party was hectic last night,” Run's mum said to her in the morning. Run was on the breakfast table which was grand. There was everything anyone could possibly want on that table. There was bacon, omelet, cereal, yogurt e.t.c.
Run's mum looked a lot like Run. Brown hair, brown eyes and a charming face, but unlike her mum, Run's hair shone in the sunlight, her mum's didn't. Run's mum was a model. She looked amazing, gorgeous, beautiful, unique and Run wasn't because as pretty as her, with nobly knees, skin that dries easily and un-even nails. She got all that from her dad who was the king of the Symbolisers.
“The party was tiring. Can we not have one tonight?” Run asked politely.
“I love partying and you should to. Come on, time for your first Symbol lesson,” Run’s mum said as she got up. Run got up slowly and went to the study room which looked a lot like a mini-library.
Waiting for her was a man with long auburn hair and freckles. ”Hi Run!,” he said cheerfully.
Run stifled a yawn, “Morning Marty. Last nights party was really bad. Why won’t mum-”
“- stop partying? She likes it. Let us begin our lesson,” he said. “as you know this is your first symbol lesson before I thought you math, science, English and Religious Education. Now I shall tell you the history of the Symbolisers,” Marty took a gla** of water, cleared his throat and began, “ we Symbolisers came to earth long time ago. We cast spells by uttering words in The Tongue. The symbols are complicated and cannot all be memorized. They come to you as you say the words. If we create materialistic things using our powers, when you touch them, you see the symbols that made it. The other two tribes are the Metamorphmagi and the Potioners. The Metamorphmagi cannot do magic, only transform into anything they want except other Metamorphmagi, Potioners and Symbolisers. Potioners create potions to do spells. Do you understand?”
“Sure Marty so which spell am I doing?” Run asked cheerfully. Slightly taken aback Marty said “ A spell to change clothes. Say suicx,”
“Suicx,” Run muttered. Nothing happened.
“No no no, like this. Sssuicxsss,” his S’s running. Weird half Chinese, half Russian, half Greek symbols covered him, there was a bright flash and instead of his casual shirt and trousers, he had a tuxedo on.
“Ssssuuuiiicxssssssssssss,” Run hissed. The word came out so naturally. Around her, she was surrounded by the symbols then she floated as the tight jeans and small mini-top, both black, turned white and joined together and soon she landed back on the ground wearing an amazing evening gown. It started under her arms to her waist where it flared out. The whole dress was glittering.
“Wow, no one has ever mastered a spell in one day! Run, I knew you were intelligent, but this is amazing! Well, see you tomorrow. No wait, tomorrow is your thirteenth birthday! Happy birthday!” Marty congratulated.
“I wanna continue with our lessons now,” Run looked determined.
* * *
Arma woke up. As usual, she slept naked because she could never find her nighties. She had a pounding headache from all the crying she did. She got up from bed and picked up a towel from under her bed. She used to cover herself as she opened her room door and entered the room opposite it, which was the bathroom. She filled the bathtub to the brim and slowly entered, which made some water spill over the side. She relaxed comfortably for an hour. She got out of the bathtub and brushed her teeth. She got a comb and combed her short hair. Her hair was currently blue and sparkling but over weekdays, she sprayed it black to avoid muttering. She went back to her room, dumped her towel on the floor, got clean underwear from the ceiling fan and put it on. She grabbed light leather trousers and simply wrapped a scarf round her breasts. She put on her boots. She decided to leave her hair its natural colour. Blue.
She walked to breakfast where her mum and dad were waiting for her.
“Good morning,” she muttered shyly.
“Morning dear,” her mum was smiling.
“Today, I am going to give you your first lesson in transformation. Okay you don’t learn transformation in school, the parent has to teach you,” her dad paused, “long ago, us Metamorphmagi came to this earth. We can turn into anything except other Metamorphmagi, Potioners and Symbolisers. Basically, the other tribes. First rate transformers have to utter words to transform, second rate transformers can transform without words but they create a loud sound when transforming and have to go back to their original form before becoming another creature. Third rate transformers just transform without any problem and can go directly from one creature to another,” he drank some tea. Arma was listening attentively while eating coco pops.
“Okay, let us find out your natural animal,” he saw Arma’s confused face, “A natural animal is what you will become when you die. Say transformation,” he ordered.
“Transformation,” Arma said flatly.
“ like this, TRANSforMAtion,” he boomed. Arma got tired and concentrated on his words and was a gorgeous snake. No words, no sound.
“My daughter, a third rate transformer,” her mother cried, “we shall be at this all day!”
* * *
Raviola’s mum just finished cleaning the broken mirror.
“Morgana, why did you anger your sister?” Raviola’s angry mum yelled, “you could have died!” her yelling reached an earsplitting volume. As she was yelling, Raviola was having toast for breakfast. She carefully buttered her piece of toast as her dad read the newspaper.
A sulky Morgana stomped into the room. She had a bandage round her head that was red with blood. She ate her pancakes quickly because in ten minutes, it would be her lesson time. Sure enough, ten minutes later, “Morgana, time for your lesson,” their mum ordered. “also you Raviola,” this came as a shock to both sisters.
“Well, you are old enough,” their dad said with toast in his mouth. Raviola and Morgana went into the kitchen. Their mum had some ingredients laid out on the table and two cauldrons, both the size of piglets. One black, one red. Morgana took the black one and left the red one for Raviola. Their mum sat on a chair.
“Page ninety two Morgana. Raviola sit down and listen. We Potioners were created long time ago. We were skilled in cooking and boiling. We could make tasty soup out of water but we could do other things as well. We could create poisons and spells and lots of things. Ever heard of the Third Sword? We Potioners made it, the Symbolisers did a protection spell on it and the Metamorphmagi allowed anyone who possessed it to transform. But no one was worthy enogh to pull it out from the earth. So today, we do out first potion. It is a simple protection spell. To make it, you put in three caterpillars, four dog hairs, white wine…” her mum was cyt short because Raviola just made it.
“You are gifted my child, at the age of twelve. Tomorrow you shall be thirteen. Well done,”
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