How I Got My Magic: Doomsday That Worked Out

Sometimes doomsday is not a bad thing. In my case, I was relieved to see my old life go up in flames. That morning, the sky went bright, I mean brighter than anything anyone in our time had ever seen before. No one knew what happened. The neighbors whispered it might be a nuclear explosion in space or something. I never saw so many colors. It was like having two suns. Only one was a rainbow.

The News said it was a star exploding, and it would take about 6 million years for us to feel its effects, but it would be the end of our planet. I sat there wondering why they would tell the public something like that, knowing they would panic. Sure enough, the grocery stores started to empty bread and milk went first, then toilet paper. Finally, I heard the neighbors screaming. "You have to make room for my Trump Balloon, Edna!" I closed my door and crawled into bed, and said, "Nope." Not today's world. My thoughts were, "Where are they going to go anyway?"

Then the next day my phone rang. Momma is calling me, "Where are you!" Sounding desperate, I could hear the worry in her tone on the answering machine. I decide to call her back and save at least some grief, and she says, "Jed, these people have gone crazy." My thoughts are, you got that right. She added, "Please come home, honey. We need you here." I groaned. That moment I heard a bulletin over the news "There will be a lockdown that will begin at six pm sharp anyone outside after that time will be arrested." I sat there shocked. I mean, could this get much more bizarre? It's not like it's going to happen this week. We're talking six million years from now, not this week. However, the panic-stricken overruled the moment in a flurry. I said, "oh, to heck with it."

I sat on the steps of my stoop, watching people loading their cars, fighting over food, even fist fighting over water. Then, out of curiosity, I walked into the house and turned the water on. The water is still running. I was bewildered. Stepping out onto the street, I asked the man that lived next to me, "You know there will not be an emergency for six million years, right?" He looks at me and says, without hesitation, "Look around. I don't think that matters right now." I stood there again in deep shock at how something like this could have gotten this out of hand. That's when I decided I have had enough of the foolishness, and maybe a visit to the country wasn't a bad idea after all.

I loaded my things up in my Mazda and headed for the hills, back to all that I hated. The isolation, the closed-off from the world, didn't seem like it was such a bad thing anymore. My family had a farm in Kentucky, deep in the woods, away from the craziness. How about that away from the craziness, words I never thought I would utter when referring to them in this context.

That was the longest road trip of my life. The freeway was a parking lot at times, for no reason. I sat in the car for hours, wondering what happened to the people. We have lived through some pretty horrible stuff. Maybe they just snapped after too much strain. I rationalized trying to comfort myself through this bizarreness.

Once the mountains were a source of dread, they came into view, now replaced by a sense of haven. One thing about the crazy hill people we can grow our food and take care of ourselves without help from anyone. A spark of hope replaced my doom and a touch of sadness because I knew socializing would be limited to family only. I have stories. I could write about those stories. Wait, who would read them now?

I drive through the curvy roads, finally coming to my township, where there is no gas. Again, I watch people filling up carts of groceries and toilet paper and again think, "Even them." Then, finally, my road, "Defiance Road," comes into view. I can see my family's house: Grandpa, Momma, Aunt Lorraine, Mable, Emma Jean, all on the porch waiting on me. I get out and start to open the back of my Mazda and hear "Goat!" My heart sinks. My nemesis, the family goat it must be in his genes to hate me. His grandfather George tortured me as a child, and apparently, I'm to relive this now, and I don't have time for this!

I heard footsteps. Then my eyes open gradually. I see five faces looking down at me, "That goat got you but good." Then, Grandpa says, "Jed, I am sorry, son. I didn't think to put him up. All this craziness distracted me." All I could muster was a groan and an "It's ok, Grandpa." Everyone around grabs luggage and helps me into the house.

Momma says, "Jed, I have everything ready for you." I notice on a table there's a tiny heart-shaped locket, a gift from her. She smiles and says, "It belonged to my mother, and I want you to have it." I open it, and there is a picture of my grandmother. I place it down the nightstand and decide to get some rest. My mind was still bewildered by all the happenings. How did we arrive at this place? Finally, I drift off to sleep.

The following day I am awakening to a calamitous thud. The entire house shook. My locket was jarred off the table into the floor where it disappeared. I jump out of bed sore and shout, "What on earth was that!" I hear Aunt Lorraine say, "I'm ok! But daddy's Trump Balloon didn't fare so well." Momma started laughing, "Oh, Little sister. You have shot Daddy's Trump Balloon!" Lorraine says, "I didn't know what it was. Where on earth did he get that stupid thing in the first place?"

Grandpa enters the house in tears, holding tattered remains of his beloved balloon, demanding to know who did this. Momma stood at an angle, pointing her finger at her sister, where Lorraine couldn't see her sister ratting her out. I stand there thinking to myself, "What was I saying about them again?" Finally, I roll my eyes and walk off, thinking to myself, "People wonder why I left."

The next day I notice the sky is still bright like we have two Suns. Momma walks up beside me and says, "It's beautiful." I respond, "Yes, very." She adds, "It was that bright last night while you were asleep we sat on the porch. It was like daylight. Is it true this could go on for months?" I reply, "Yes, Momma, it could." She questions me further, "Think it's dangerous?" I add, "Not for six million years."

Over the next few days, I start to notice a change in us all, a different kind of energy. First, our skin is brighter, as if it's charged with a new type of energy. Then we all start to notice that we look healthier, younger, and Aunt Lorraine swore her teeth were growing back. Grandpa called her a fibber for that one. But, of course, she's known for fibbing at times, and she loves to prank her beloved sister.

However, now this is something different, we are all experiencing something like static, but we have extra energy and extra strength. So I decided to go for a walk in the woods. Years ago, I encountered a horrifying creature, and for the longest time, I refused to step foot in the woods. A few years ago, however, he bumped into us he fell into the goat pen. It gave us a terrible fright and caused my twin uncles Carl and Earl to come down with Fainting Goat Syndrome. After this week, it's no wonder that it became a sensation.

I called him Clove because he is roughly the same color as a Clove, only about seven feet tall, about fourteen hundred pounds. I wonder if the same thing is happening to him and his family. I wonder if I can find him, historically he has seen me, and it's usually been when I least expect it. My lifelong friend Lou Zypher and best friend Scott helped me set him free when scientists tried to capture him. Maybe he has moved on. It can't hurt to take a walk in the woods to find out.

I climb up to my perch, my one spot where I can be away from the world, my rocky lookout that overlooks the valley. I hear a rustling behind me, one thing I have learned things that sound tiny are usually huge, and something that sounds large is typically small. This rustling sounds tiny, so maybe it's Clove.

A hairy arm Gentilly lurches out of the shadows and gooses me in the ribs. My friend is here! He eases out of the shadows and stands up, and has grown. I noticed his hair is like my skin. It sparkles, and there is no smell. He had a foul odor before now; however, I couldn't smell anything.

From the corner of my eye, a tiny creature the size of a butterfly appears. It darts around Cloves head. First, I utter, "What are you?" Then, I get a closer look. It's a tiny fairy. It's making a strange noise. Clove then takes my hand, puts the little creature in my hand, and places my hand next to my ear. As I listen closely, its words become apparent to my amazement.

I catch my breath. Is this the moment I realize I have officially lost my mind? I do not only see things. I am hearing them too. I am not worried about telling the real world about my creatures. Look at them. However, my grasp on sanity is officially questionable. It was never solid in the first place, but now this, well, this was too much.

I sit down and try to remember what the tiny creature said, "It will be ok. Do not be afraid. Magic will abound now. A time of magic is upon us." So I sat quietly, thinking. "Do I need to get a wand or something to carry around like Merlin? Oh, even better, I get to zap the crazies?' I hear the tiny voice say, "No, you cannot harm people." Disappointed by that enlightenment, I sit down. Then I hear something different, a loud voice that I had never heard before.

"What on earth is that?" So jarred by this booming voice. It's Cloves voice! Wait, I can understand him now too. His deep voice is pleasant to listen to and offers excellent advice. So many connections are made once I finally get to understand him. We talked for what must have been hours. Until I eventually became starved, that's when we decided to speak further another time. Clove was going to find out more information from his elders and relay what we had talked about today.

I walk in the door to see Aunt Lorraine sitting on the couch mad. "What is wrong?" She looks at me, "Look at this." A pair of dentures glued to a piece of plywood with a note that says, "That's for shooting my Trump Balloon." She had been betrayed by her father. Only in my house would you find such betrayal. This story is my dystopia journal. Stay calm and let the magic happen.