The Story of a Boy - Part 1
“Dying! Dying!” Kyle sobbed as he thrashed through the forest undergrowth as fast as his two chubby legs could carry him.
Startled, I looked up from the recipe book I had been consulting to prepare a special meal for dinner because it was Kyle’s second birthday. The kitchen was a mess. The marble-topped island at the centre was covered with eggs, flour, mixing bowls and wooden spoons. On one wall, the oven was roaring away to the whirring of the electrical mixer.
The kitchen door banged open and Kyle stumbled into the room just as I was wiping my hands on my apron. Kyle flung his arms around my legs burying his tear-streaked face into my legs, mumbling incoherently. He had wrapped his arms my legs with such a death grip that it took quite an effort from my part to pry his arms open. Practically scaling my legs into my arms, Kyle then held my face with his two grimy hands and peered gravely into my face. It always amazed me how serious this little boy could look at times.
“Magic ‘shrooms dying, Mummy!” He exclaimed earnestly. “Come see!”
The amazing development of his speech was the other thing that had surprised us. At just two, Kyle could speak a myriad of words. In fact, since the day he was born, we knew that there was something very special about Kyle.
I released Kyle and he tugged at my hand to follow him. Kyle ran as I walked briskly beside him. He led me back through the familiar path in the forest that we would often walk. All around us were ancient oak trees worshipping the sun with their gnarled branches. The air was cool and sticky and the moss beneath our feet was still wet from the morning dew.
Kyle released my hand, ran to the based of a particularly large oak tree and dropped to his knees. As I knelt beside him, he pointed to the some mushrooms which were indeed dying. I plucked a sample and wrapped it in my apron.
“Come on, Kyle,” I said. “We have to go tell grandpa.”
Kyle’s grandpa was a self-professed magician. Many of the townsfolk thought he was a loony old man with grand delusions, so we lived in the mountains in a small cabin at the centre of a meadow surrounded by oak trees as old as time itself.
Magic was real, just as the dragons and unicorns were real. It was the advancement of technology that was making people forget. Of course, with the mysterious deaths of the unicorns, the power of magic in the world was weakening. The dying magic mushrooms were one of the first signs of that.
To be continued…
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