The Traveler's Magic

Sixteen hours, three layovers, and endless snoring from the man sleeping next to me has me cranky. Everyone glorifies living in NYC but they never talked about the flight back to Africa. I can hear the stewardess walking down the aisle and gently nudging folks to buckle their seat belts. I open the shade covering the airplane window and gasp. Kenya has probably never looked more beautiful than it looks right now. My seatmate grumbles about a stupid light and, I quickly close the shade. “Sorry, not a morning person, I see” I whisper under my breath.

Leaving the airport always feels like a dance, the slide against and through people. Yet as soon as I walk outside, life bursts from the seams. The sights and sounds make the airport seem almost clinical and machine heavy, but out here, there’s a whole universe that’s fully operational without me. A car honks its horn and I jump, then swing my head around to make sure nobody notices me. I hop into the first cab I see and get dropped off at my house. Being 27 never felt so good, I’m finally able to get my access to the inheritance my grandfather left for me. $20k, a house and access to my magic.

The house was always beautiful, mirrored to look like a cabin in the woods. When you looked at it, the magic seemed to spill from it, twisting your sight and tricking parts of your brain. My whole life I’ve known about magic; the magic passed down in my family, old magic, god magic, the travelers magic. As I roll my bags up the driveway, my fingertips tingle in anticipation.

First stop is the basement, my dad would tell me stories about my grandfather taking him to the basement to explore the world. One box nestled on the shelf called to me, the label read, 2020 - The Grand Traveling. As soon as I opened it, a small black notebook fell out. I picked up the book, running my hands over the cover and spine. It seemed to almost glisten in the darkness, a false light, a kaleidoscope of gold against my fingertips. I flipped it open and the magic jumped out at me. At first, the words made no sense, they were foreign, earthy, definitely not english. Then magic reshaped them, unfolded them and a phrase echoed in my mind. "Push through the gates of time."

In an instant, I was back in New York City barreling across town on the 4 train, the skyline before me bleeding crimson pink and burnt orange. The train swayed and screeched, a baby gurgled and it’s mother cooed back. The train jerked sharply and I stumbled, falling against the train doors - falling back in time. The book slipped from my fingers, “BANG” the sound echoing and bouncing off the basement floor.

I stumbled and tried right myself, quickly fixing my hair and clothes. A throat cleared and I quickly looked up “Umm, excuse me” he said. “Hermes, God of Travel at your service, it seems like you have my book.” “What” I said gasping, and then I passed out, right there - in my basement, in front of a God.