The Statue of Wizardry stood watch over the bustling metropolis of New York. On those rare days when the skies were clear and the mana smog wasn’t so thick and it hadn’t rained the night before, Booker Darrow could look out the window of his apartment and see the three-hundred foot copper Merlin out there on Wizardry Island overlooking New York Harbor, grimoire in tow and burning wand raised high. The hotel next to the apartment blocked most of the view, but it was still a damn fine sight–for anyone other than Booker, anyway.
As often as he found himself gazing out the window only to have his eyes drawn by that oversized symbol of everything he wasn’t, he found his thoughts would always turn sour as a result, and today was no exception. He cast his gaze down on the busy streets below, luminescent crystals and wisps zipping by, occasional flashes of magical lights joining them for an instant before vanishing. He could see glowing runic words blinking across buildings advertising weight-loss potions or grimoires that can connect to other grimoires or the latest magic pocket mirror or alcoholic elixirs that promise you won’t be hungover the next day.
Magic was everywhere. Except for Booker Darrow’s apartment. It was his haven, his Fortress of Solitude, a hiding place where he could run away from the magic of the modern world that refused to accommodate a disabled person such as himself.
Because even though the modern world ran on magic, Booker was incapable of making anything magical happen at all. Only in his dreams. While most of humanity made use of their magic toys and potions, Booker hid himself away in his fictional worlds. He wrote about machines doing the work that magic would do–machines he could build and operate without magic. Flying machines, for example, that used wings and fire power to stay in the air. Booker always wanted to fly.
And so he wrote about his dream worlds, a craft of pure creation. Dreaming of a world without magic and writing it down was, ironically, the closest thing to performing magic he would achieve.
Day 361’s three random writing prompt categories were, “Magical realism,” “The hermit,” and, “The storyteller.”