The Warlock

The light just appeared. Well, the lamp was already there, but light emitted from it suddenly and without even a flick of the switch. In fact, the switch didn’t move. Inside the wall, the circuit remained broken. But the light was on.

William smiled to himself as he sat on his antique leather armchair in the corner of the room. The light above him dimmed and brightened. He watched it curiously. With a faint twitch of his wrist, the light changed color — what had been a soft white glow turned deep amber, then blue, and then green.

“Honey, if you wanted color changing LEDs, you could’ve just said so,” Tim said as he walked into the room with his cup of coffee. “They’re not expensive.”

“LEDs aren’t fun,” replied William, “magic — magic is fun!” The color of the light split, leaving a rainbow shooting out from the lamp.

“I don’t think that’s good for the electricity.” Tim took a long sip from his coffee. “It’s not that I don’t support your hobbies,” he began, “it’s just... magic? Really?”

William frowned and with a flick of his wrist, let the light fall away into darkness. “I’m just trying to have a little fun. I don’t make fun of your woodworking.”

Tim pushed a button on his phone and the light came back. The actual light this time. The electricity poured into the filament and burned, giving off a warm glow. “My woodworking isn’t just a hobby. I just sold another rocking chair yesterday.”

“You know they sell those at Target,” William mocked, “they’re not expensive.”

“Again, have your hobbies,” Tim said, “just, not with the lights please? Last thing we need is you setting fire to the house. Again.”

“That was ages ago. I’m much more in control now!” William snapped his fingers and a little blue flame materialized, hovering just above his hand.

Tim fished around in his pocket and pulled out a little black stick with two little prongs on the end. With a push of a button, a beam of electricity arced from tip to tip. “I can make fire too,” he said.

“It’s not the same, Tim! Magic isn’t just about utility: it’s an art! It took me years and years of patient study to get as good as I am today.”

Tim smiled. “I’m just teasing you, dear. What do you want for breakfast?”

After breakfast, the dishes scrubbed themselves in the sink. The tap ran by itself. Soap poured itself out of its dispenser, and a sponge sailed through the air, scrubbing grime off the pots and pans. William stood nearby, arms folded, watching his work with pleasure.

Tim watched too, sipping from his second cup of coffee. “It’s certainly more interesting to watch than the dishwasher,” he admitted. “Are you ever going to do anything with your magic though? Or just play around when you’re bored?”

“Not everyone’s hobby can be as lucrative as yours,” he replied, “besides, not everything has to be about making money. Some things can just be fun.”

“Still, there are probably other weirdos like you that like this stuff. Or who want to learn?”

“Are you suggesting that I start a magic academy?” William asked with a sly smile growing across his face. “Because I’ve always wanted a castle. Are you buying me a castle?”

“You know, I’ve looked but our realtor says we just don’t have the money for a castle,” Tim replied with a sarcastic pout, “maybe a strip mall storefront though.”

“Ha ha, maybe I will start a school.”

“Or at least get out of the house and bother someone else with your silly little tricks. Go pull a rabbit out of someone else’s hat.”

“Fine,” said William. “Fine.”

William wore a top hat and a coat with tails as he walked up the ramp to the door of the Westview Home For The Old and Unwanted. He carried a battered old suitcase in one hand and a cane in the other. He didn’t need the cane though. It was just for show. He flourished his hand and the doors opened wide for him to enter.

They were automatic doors, of course, but they didn’t open the way they were designed to open. Rather than sliding open in their predestined tracks, they opened out like great castle doors. And when William was over the threshold, them swung back into place no worse for wear than ever before.

William walked up to the reception desk and rang the little bell with a simple glance from his eye. “William the Warlock, at your service,” he said with his hat tipping itself as the receptionist came in from the back room.

“Oh great,” the receptionist dead panned, “Just go on through those doors there to the cafeteria. The residents are already waiting.”

The doors to the cafeteria opened themselves for him and he strode in magnificently, his suitcase carrying itself behind him for added effect.

The residents gave him a half-hearted applause of welcome as he took the stage.

“Thank you, thank you one and all!” William bowed low to the residents, pretending as he did so that the welcome was much warmer than it had actually been. “My name, of course, is William the Warlock and I’m here to show you what you’ve all forgotten.”

The audience watched in near silence. There were, of course, a few coughs and one resident was snoring, but William didn’t let that bother him too terribly much.

“Way back when — before any of you were even children — we did not have these fancy conveniences like electric lights and motor cars! We had magic. And the world was so much brighter and, well, magical.” The latches of his suitcase undid themselves and the lid opened.

It was empty.

“I am here to remind you of the magic that is inside you. And to welcome you to join me in unlocking it again. Behold!”

The emptiness of the floating suitcase gave way to a giant bouquet of roses. One rose for each and every person in the audience. The roses burst forth from the delicate crystal vase that now sat in the suitcase and floated into the audience, each one finding its new owner with ease.

The crowd, which up to this point had been rather unimpressed with the whole affair, positively lit up. It had been a while since anyone had bothered to give them flowers. The magical nature of them floating and appearing out of a suitcase that couldn’t possibly have fit them was secondary to their enjoyment. But they were certainly happy. Some even clapped.

The lights turned purple and darkened until the room was dim, spooky, and rather eerie for a nursing home cafeteria. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” William said in a stage whisper, “that is not the extent of what we can do with magic.”

The audience was holding onto his every word now.

“Some may say that today’s modern conveniences have taken the place of all that magic can do. They might even be right, with some exceptions. But the beauty of magic isn’t what it can do, but who can do it.”

William smiled broadly. He knew that he was about to amaze them, to change lives in a way that Tim’s tables and chairs never could.

“Anyone can do it,” he declared.

The audience stared at him blankly, silently. Not the reaction he was expecting, but he pressed on all the same.

William’s feet left the ground, and he too began to hover. He moved across the stage without moving even a single muscle. It was like magic. It was magic.

“In just a few lessons, you can use magic to carry things, get around, do things that you haven’t been able to do in so very long. Things that you may think of as being for the young and able-bodied can be yours with just an able-spirit.”

It dawned on the residents just what William the Warlock meant. No more waiting for the nurses to hand them things just out of reach, no more trouble getting around. They could just levitate. No more forgetting to turn out the light and having to get back out of bed again. It would be like being young again, but better.

The crowd cheered, some with tears in their eyes.

“My name is William the Warlock,” he said, “and welcome to my school of magic!”