Part I: My life in fifteen hundred words or less:
Milo (Milonium)
I believe in magic, at least I want to. The problem is every time I try believing, reality gets in my way.
It’s not like I’m not lucky. The truth is I’m very lucky. I was abandoned by my parents when I was just a baby. I was adopted, only to be given back to the state, no explanation given, when I was three years old.
A toddler isn’t as easy to find parents for, especially during a recession, so I ended up in long term foster care. Going from home to home was a way of life for me, at least until I met Godfrey and Matilda Beecham. They took me in and have loved me like their own for fifteen years.
So, I was lucky, more than many, and I knew that firsthand. I’d seen a whole host of young foster kids go into and then be destroyed by the system. So, even though I had a curse over me, I was still better off than most.
Curse? You caught that huh? Yeah, I realized when I was still young, right before moving in with the Beecham’s that I was cursed. Things go wrong for me all the time. The more I try something the more likely the opposite will happen.
For example, the other day I was trying to clean Mrs. Beecham’s refrigerator out, as a way of thanking them for taking me in and all. Just as I had removed all the food-- poof-- the entire machine started squealing and before I knew it, it went black.
Now, I know that doesn’t sound like a big deal. Refrigerators go on the blink, right? Yeah, except this one was less than a year old. The one they had before this one lived to be over twenty years old.
I stopped writing and thought about last week’s disaster.
“Oh, honey, don’t worry about it,” Mrs. Beecham said and patted my head. “It’s still under warranty and I’m sure it’s because the wiring was bad.”
I loved her. Even Mr. Beecham was kind and caring. In a foster home I had before them, I was spanked whenever things went wrong. Even though foster parents aren’t technically allowed to spank foster kids.
But Mr. and Mrs. Beecham though, they were always understanding. Sometimes frustrated, but always understanding.
“Milo,” Mr. Beecham yelled up the stairs. “You’re gonna be late for class.”
I was taking classes at the Community College down the street from where the Beechams lived and I could ride my bike to school. I had a high GPA in high school, but I didn’t do so well with cars so it worked a lot better for me and everyone on the road if I didn’t try driving.
That’s why the community college was a better option for me.
“I’ll be right down,” I yelled. “Just got to finish up this essay.”
We’d been assigned a fifteen hundred word essay in my communication class. The teacher, a woman who wore long wispy skirts and kept her hair undone and flying free around her face wanted our final project to reflect who we were as individuals.
“Write so just by reading your essay we’ll know who you are.”
I looked at my draft and realized it was already too long. I’d have to rewrite it, paring down my words. Oh well, it wasn’t a problem. I liked writing. I didn’t necessary like having to tell my life story in fifteen hundred words, but oh well… life goes on, right?
I rushed down the stairs, gave my foster mom a peck on the cheek and waved at Mr. Beecham. “I’ll be home late tonight. I’m meeting Parker to study for exams. We’re gonna play cards with his brother and his girlfriend after that so we’ll probably just order pizza.
“No problem honey, just be safe.” Mrs. Beecham said as she disappeared back into the kitchen.
After class, I biked over to the library where Parker should be getting off work. I parked my bike and locked it, then went in hoping he’d be done and ready to go. We did have to study, the history final for Dr. Jordon’s class was whispered about by everyone in the school. The man seemed to enjoy torturing students and he was one of those history teachers who cared about the dates even down to the months in some cases.
Parker wasn’t available, unfortunately, so I wandered through the fiction section looking for anything fantasy I hadn’t already read.
A flash of light came out of nowhere and blinded me momentarily just as I went around the bookshelves. I stepped back and into an embrace that I couldn’t wiggle out of. When I regained my sight, I found myself staring at the strangest looking woman I’d ever seen.
“Is it him?” the man who was holding me asked and the woman nodded.
“It looks like him.”
“Hey, what are you two doing?” Luckily, Parker must’ve come looking for me and he was standing on the public side of the stacks. “Take your hands off of him!” I heard him say.
The two looked at one another before they began pulling me toward the exit.
“Let me go!” I screamed and within seconds, several other students as well as the librarians rushed to my aide. The man released me and the two dashed out of the library’s door. We watched them disappear around a building and another blinding light flashed.
Several students ran out to check on where the two had gone, but most stood back and helped console me.
“Are you okay?” Parker asked.
“Yeah, they didn’t hurt me, but they shook me up. What do you think that was about?”
“No idea,” Parker said, “But campus security is on the way. Maybe they can give us some insight.” |
