The Magician's Notebook

Karis watched the Magician with wary eyes. He stood at his work bench stooped over something that was laid out before him. Karis could not see what it was from her spot in the corner next to a rack covered in glass bottles. The bottles ranged in shapes and sizes. Some were empty but some contained powders or liquids of varying colors. The Magician knew that Karis was there, and Karis knew that he knew she was there, but he paid her no mind and she knew better than to bother him while he worked.

Karis’s dirty blond hair was tied back in a single braid that fell halfway down her back. She wore a worn out and faded red dress and stockings that had dust smudges as well as scuffed black shoes. She hadn’t received many new clothes since her mother died a few months ago of an illness. Now, Karis was left with the Magician, who seemed quite younger but was actually 33. Karis was 8.

The Magician stood tall with a long dark grey coat that fell to his knees, unbuttoned in the front to reveal his white dress shirt and dark grey vest, but could not be seen from Karis’s angle for his back was to her. The pants he wore as well as the top hat on his head were also the same shade of dark grey as his coat and vest. The skin of his hands and face seemed more pale than usual with such dark clothing and his dark hair even darker. His appearance as well as his magic were what made Karis wary of him especially now that mother was gone. But she was not afraid of him. She was waiting for the day to stand up to him and show him that she was not afraid.

On his work bench were several vials and bottles similar to what were on the rack, some empty and some full. Dust covered, leather-bound books were also piled on top of the bench against the wall. Drawings and sketches of strange things that Karis could not make out were pinned to the wall above the bench, the paper beginning to slightly yellow.

This room that the Magician’s belongings were currently confined to was in the basement of his house. It had no windows, only a few oil lamps hung on the wall. The ground was cold, hard cobblestone and the walls were the same. Shelves were hung around the room, mostly containing books. Racks similar to the one with glass bottles filled up most of the floor space with more bottles and jars and papers, candles, tins, an occasional knife, some jewels and stones and metals of all sorts. There were only two pieces of furniture in the room and they were a couch and coffee table. The couch was dusty and worn and a faded red with a heavy blanket hanging over the back and 2 throw pillows. The dark wooden table was unremarkable and had an empty tray on it that once contained food but now only had crumbs. The Magician lived down here when he had a lot of work to do, but mostly lived in the house above. Karis could not understand how he lived down here, for it was cold and damp especially in the winter and there was no fire place.

Karis had been sitting in her corner for a while now, watching the Magician at work. She had come down here on her own to explore the room; she liked looking at his collections of racks and what each contained, but knew better than to touch anything. Some of the Magician’s items were pretty, others interesting, and others more scary and grotesque. But as she had been looking at the rack of vials the Magician came down to work. She had stopped in her tracks by the rack of bottles and had not moved from her spot since. She didn’t want to disturb him. After a half hour she eventually sat down on cold hard floor, tired of standing and waiting for him to leave. She longed to be able to leave, but she knew any noise or sudden movements would distract him and he would be mad at her. As long as she did not make a sound or touch anything he would leave her alone.

Currently, the Magician was writing something down with the ink and quill on his bench. Karis was curious as to what his business was, but she remained put. He wrote vigorously. Something was obviously on his mind. Either he was getting frustrated with a problem or he had a break through that solved one. This peaked Karis’s interest. For the hour or so he had been down here he had not done much except analyze drawings and go through some books. But now this was more interesting. Karis wondered if he was going to use some magic. She was slightly frightened at the thought but thrilled at the same time at thought of watching something occur. She rarely did.

Suddenly the Magician’s hand stopped in the middle of writing something. The sound of quill scratching on paper ceased. Karis felt her breath catch in anticipation of something to happen, whether bad or good. The Magician slowly put the quill back in the jar of ink and rested his hand down on the work bench. He was still bent over whatever was in front of him. Then, just as suddenly, the Magician took long quick strides towards the doorway that led to the stairs and disappeared through it. Karis could hear his feet quickly sprint up the wooden stairs and then the door at the top that led into the rest of the house slam shut.

Karis remained in her spot for several minutes waiting for his swift return from wherever. But after 15 minutes she realized he probably left the house altogether and wouldn’t be back for a while. Karis felt two feelings hit her all at once. The first was get up and leave the room and go and read a book or play with a doll or call on her friend next door. The second and more prominent was to investigate what the Magician had been working on. Karis chose the latter.

She slowly stood up from her sitting position against the wall in the corner. Then she made her way through the maze of racks, careful not to bump into anything. Soon she was at the work bench. It was almost as tall as her but she could still see what was on top. It looked even more interesting and unique close up than it did from afar. She glanced up at the pictures. Many were sketches of mystical beasts or ingredients for potions and spells. Others were just words for spells or recipes, probably those he used most often or was aiming to use after collecting everything.

It was all so fascinating for the little girl. But what fascinated Karis the most was what was laid open on the work bench in the spot where the Magician had been. It was a notebook. His unmistakable handwriting was scrawled in fresh ink on the open pages. Karis could not resist the urge to grab it off the counter top and hold it in her hands. The notebook was heavily laden with magic and Karis could feel it weigh her down. But she was undeterred as she began to flip through the pages.

Karis started from the beginning and skimmed through the pages one by one. Many pages contained spells and recipes. But most of the pages were notes that the Magician had written down about the things he’s done, about what went right and what went wrong, almost in the form of a journal. From the date on the first page, Karis could see that the notebook was very old by at least a few years. Karis was surprised it wasn’t full. It was already thick with pages full of notes and spells and even thicker was the amount of pages still empty. This was undoubtedly a very special notebook.

Karis had spent a good amount of time reading the notebook and even had sat on the couch to look through it. But after a while she realized that she had been looking for far too long and needed to leave before the Magician came back. If he came back and she was still here then she would be in serious trouble. Karis opened the notebook up to the most recent pages and laid it back in its original spot. But as soon as she set it down she felt a large hand grab on tightly to her tiny wrist. She gasped and instinctively yanked her arm back, but to no avail. The larger hand was stronger than her.

“What are you doing looking through my things, child?” a menacing voice hissed. Karis looked up to see the Magician looking down at her with fiery black eyes.

She quivered in fear. “I just wanted to see what you had been writing about,” she replied softly.

“You know better than to go through my things!”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Oh you will be sorry.” He raised his free hand to back slap her.

Karis instantly remembered something she had read in the notebook. It had said that true magic wielders can unleash their magic if they concentrate hard enough on a certain thought. Karis believed that she was no true Magician like the man before her, but she squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated anyway. She braced impact for a hit that never came. Shortly after, the hand on her wrist released her. She bravely opened her eyes to see the Magician looking at her in fascination.

“You have magic,” he said simply.

She looked back at him dumbfounded. Had it really worked? She couldn’t believe it. The Magician’s expression changed to the look of realization.

“Of course!” he exclaimed. “I understand now. All children are magical. Not just a select few. But it is those with the potential and ambition that realizes they have the gift will become the true magic wielders. Everyone else’s dies off through aging. You, my dear, shall one day be a beautiful Illusionist. You are already so powerful. No wonder your fascination for my art! Your training will begin tomorrow.”

And with that he turned to leave. Karis still had the dumbfounded look on her face. What had just happened? But seconds later the Magician returned and grabbed his notebook.

“I must write down these findings,” he explained to the little girl. “But tonight I will give this to you to finish reading. The more you know before tomorrow the better!”

He vanished again.

Karis glanced down at her soft hands in awe. Had she truly used magic to stop the Magician from harming her? She stared at an empty glass vial on the work bench and used her mind to focus on lifting it. A few inches in the air and it shattered. Karis jumped back and shrieked. She was magical! And because of this new found magic she had found a spot in the Magician’s heart. Her day to stand up to him had come. And now he was going to teach her. She was going to be a very powerful Illusionist. More powerful than the Magician himself.