I Am the Thing You Made Me

Lucky crashed through the underbrush. Low tree branches slapped at his face, stinging his cheeks and welting his hands as he tried to protect his eyes. Magic would have been a faster escape, but it was too late now. He had waited too long thinking he would be able to evade them on foot. The trees in this part of the forest were tall and dense and without a clear path through the air he risked slamming face first into a tree trunk. So Lucky ran. But his short legs barely kept him ahead of his pursuers and he was doing more tripping and stumbling than actual running.

This perpetual game of hunter and prey had long ago grown old. Lucky was tired of being the prey. He was sick of the relentless little monsters that smelled like sweat and sugar, with their sticky grubby hands and their high pitched squeals. He was tired of being chased and cornered and molested by their probing fingers while their laughter stung his ears. It was all for his charms, because those creatures coveted what belonged to him.

Exhaustion was beginning to weigh the little man’s limbs down. His breath came in short rasps and his eyelids were so very heavy. Lucky wanted to give up, to lie down, to close his eyes and shut out the forest and the pain and the cruel younglings that hunted him.

A screech somewhere not far behind quickened the pace of his already racing heart. Lucky’s ears perked and twitched automatically seeking to pinpoint the exact distance of his pursuers. The once pointed tip of his left ear was ragged and scarred from a similar chase many years ago that ended, as so many did, in his capture. The memory of the terror and pain of that attack forever remained fresh in his mind.

They were just behind him now.

Lucky willed himself to run again, but managed only a few short strides before his toe caught under a protruding root and he crashed to the ground, smashing an elbow on a rock and tumbling down a rough slope. He came to rest on his back against a sheer rocky embankment, panting and cursing the icy pain shooting through his arm. At least his scuffed buckle shoe had stayed securely on his foot.

Scrambling to his feet, desperately seeking an escape route, Lucky felt panic rise in his gut. He couldn’t climb back up the slope in time and the rocks behind him would be even more impossible to scale.

“This way! He’s over here!”

He was trapped. He grabbed the pouch at his belt, but he was out of time. He would never find the right charm and remember the right spell before they were upon him. Then he saw that the root that had thrown him into this trap was one of many that belonged to a huge ancient tree. Unable to dive deep into the rocky soil, they had come above ground, twisting and knotting around each other forming a natural root cave.

Lucky dove for the dark space between the woody roots and was just small enough to squeeze through the opening. He huddled there in the darkness feeling the cold damp earth and rotting leaves beneath him. He willed his breath to be silent. He willed the horrible creatures to pass by.

“He’s this way!”

They were so close.

“Lucky, we’re gonna find you!”

Lucky squeezed his eyes shut and rested his forehead on his bent knees.

Laughter. “He musta went this way!”

But now the voices were moving away. A few tense minutes passed. He couldn’t hear them at all anymore. He had eluded them this time, and he allowed his muscles to relax just a bit. Lucky absently reached for his charm pouch once again. He felt the smooth enchanted stones beneath the soft worn leather. He had only seven left now. How many had they stolen from him? How would he protect the few that he still possessed?

Lucky clutched the tattered edges of his once fine green coat, wrapping it tightly around his body for warmth. His matching hat had been lost years before, taken as a trophy by one of his tormentors. He sat shivering until nightfall when he finally dared to crawl from the shelter of the roots.

“I can’t take it anymore,” Lucky complained as he paced back and forth along the shoreline of his friend’s pond.

“What can you do?” the water sprite asked from her seat on a lily pad.

“I live in constant terror! No matter where I go they always find me. I’m worn out, Fiona. I’m getting old and I’m tired. I can’t do it anymore.”

“Lucky, you seem to forget that long ago you used to torment them as well,” Fiona reminded him gently.

“Harmless pranks! I filled their shoes with beetles and hid their silverware. I didn’t hunt them down and beat them senseless in order to steal their possessions. This,” Lucky pointed to his torn ear, “is not harmless mischief.”

“Lucky,” the sprite used her most soothing voice in a futile attempt to calm her friend.

“And besides, you’ve never harmed a soul, but how many times have you been caged and tortured for a wish?”

“It is the order of things, Lucky. Humans have always desired our magic because they have none of their own.” It saddened Lucky to realize that Fiona was like so many of the others, resigned to a position of servitude to the barbaric humans.

“Is that why you never leave your pond anymore?” Lucky challenged. He ceased pacing and glared at the tiny sprite. Lucky knew Fiona was afraid. Magical beings were no longer so abundant in the world. Those that remained were spread over great distances and preferred to stay hidden.

The sprite dropped her faded blue eyes from the harsh gaze of Lucky’s green ones. A lock of faded blue hair fell forward over her shoulder. “I too am getting older…”

“That’s why this must stop. Not just for me or for you, but for all of us everywhere. Before they hunt us to extinction!”

“Lucky, I have never seen so much anger in you. I must admit, it’s a bit frightening.” Fiona’s blue-tinted wings fluttered soundlessly, and her body levitated gently from the lily pad. “What will you do? How will you stop them?”

“I don’t know. If I can scare them enough...”

“But how? I don’t think any of the others will help you, and I just can’t leave my pond.”

“Then I’ll do it by myself,” but hopelessness had begun to descend upon Lucky’s face and his broad little shoulders sagged.

“Lucky, you must remember that they are innocents. They don’t really mean you any harm,” Fiona now hovered in front of Lucky’s face and looked into his eyes.

“They are monsters! And monsters must be…” Suddenly the little man had an idea.

“What?” Fiona asked when Lucky failed to finish his thought.

“Nothing,” Lucky replied in a low voice without meeting the sprite’s eyes. “I’ll think of something.”

“Do be careful, my friend,” Fiona finally said. The tiny sprite glided close and planted a gentle kiss on Lucky’s weather-worn cheek before turning on her silvery wings and diving into the safety of her pond.

Nestled among the boulders on the side of a craggy hill, Lucky paged through the tattered book of charms and spells that had been handwritten and passed down through the ages. The light from the full moon was just enough to illuminate the faded ink on the dry yellowing paper. Lucky hadn’t read the old leather bound book in many years. More than anything, it was a catalog of all he had lost. Even now he felt the sting as he scanned the list of charms: the powerful Lightening Bolt, the beautiful Phoenix Wing, the mysterious Chameleon Orb. Once he had possessed almost every charm written about in these pages. But all he had left now was a mere seven. He had them lined up on the flat ground beside him.

He had a plan, but he had to find the right spells to make it work with some combination of the seven charms he possessed: the Shooting Star, the Magic Mirror, the Blue Moon, the Bleeding Heart, the Indestructible Diamond, the Faded Rainbow, and the Creeping Clover. And once he had succeeded the others would join him.

“We’re gonna get you this time, Lucky!” one of the boys shouted.

Lucky disappeared into the shadows beneath a cluster of ancient trees. The young hunters would not lose the trail of their prey so easily. Lucky peeked out from behind a huge tree trunk and watched to be sure they followed him. When he saw that they had, he ducked back behind the tree. Clutching his amber-colored charm he felt the five uneven points of the star press into his palm and whispered an incantation in the ancient tongue. Moments later Lucky lifted off the ground and flew through the air in a low arch leaving a trail of sparkling stardust in his wake. The star couldn’t take him far, but it didn’t need to. His destination was the clearing only a few hundred yards away.

Lucky crouched at the edge of the clover field listening for footsteps, the tips of his ears swiveling. When at last he heard them he remained where he was, his body trembling. His instincts told him to run and hide but he had to stay where they could see him. And when they did…

“There he is!”

Lucky ran through the clover as fast as his legs allowed him. The little monsters where faster, but he was almost to the big stand alone boulder. His awkward run led to an awkward dive as he plunged head first into the clover behind the lonely boulder.

The three trackers slowed and surrounded Lucky’s hiding place. “Where is he?” they asked each other circling the place where Lucky should have been. They glanced around, frowns etched on their young faces. At that moment Lucky emerged from a cluster of saplings some distance beyond the boulder and made a dash toward the center of the clover field.

For just an instant his image flickered, his body becoming transparent. But it was only for the blink of an eye. Did they notice? Would they stop their pursuit? Lucky did not look back to find out. His focus was trained on the trench he had painstakingly dug in the middle of the field. He couldn’t see it, but he had memorized the location.

Lucky trembled with exertion, sweat slicked his skin and his breathing had been reduced to short rasping gulps of air. From the safety of the branches of an old tree he watched himself lead his tormentors into his trap, watched as his mirror self crossed the clover concealed hole as if it were solid ground. Then the first small human fell and disappeared into the earth. Then the second went down followed closely by the third.

With a great sigh Lucky opened his right hand and the mirage of running Lucky evaporated. He had been gripping the flat silver oval shaped mirror charm so tightly that its smooth edges had managed to break some of the blisters he had gotten while shoveling out his trap. He slumped back against the trunk of his lookout post relieved to be casting only one spell for the moment. Little rivulets of blood filled the creases in his palm. He gently returned his mirror charm to its place in his worn leather pouch.

Lucky wished he could just sit in the tree and rest but it was a luxury he could not yet afford. Instead he called to the clover which he controlled via the little green stone in his left hand. In response the clover crawled up the tree trunk. The individual clovers wove together forming a thick vine which wrapped itself tightly around the branch upon which Lucky sat. Still holding his clover charm tightly in his left fist he slid down the vine. Once he was safely on the ground the clover vine broke apart merging back into the field. Lucky released some of the magic flowing through his charm and watched as the clover on the ground flowed like a receding tide from the forest edge that bordered it on all sides. Without his manufactured vegetation covering the ground it was nothing more than hard pebble filled dirt sprouting occasional patches of ugly grass. The leafy greens crawled to the center of the field until the only clover remaining covered the trench that held the little humans.

Lucky walked slowly to where his clover web concealed the gap. The fingers of his right hand poked through his charm pouch until they felt the curves of the crescent shaped stone he sought.

He could hear his former tormentors sobbing from below and when he parted the clover, three ugly little faces peered up at him from the bottom of the hole. The girl sat in the dirt with tears falling from her big eyes. “Please, Lucky,” she begged. “Help us.”

One of the boys held his leg and the other attempted to climb the crumbly sides. The clover twisted about his arms and legs and forced him back down to the bottom of the pit.

They looked so small and harmless down there, these vicious relentless little monsters that Lucky had run from for so long. He almost pitied them. Almost.

He wiped at his forehead with the back of his fist, closed his eyes and whispered the words that made his blue moon charm become warm in his palm. Lucky felt his legs weakening under the strain and dropped to his knees. The sky overhead darkened, night in the middle of the day. The sun disappeared and only a blue crescent moon lit the forest. The creatures trapped in the pit became very quiet and still, fast asleep against their wills.

Lucky completely released his hold over the clover. It instantly retreated, fading to only a tiny clump of maybe a dozen clovers sprouting from the rocky ground. Lucky had transplanted them himself not 24 hours ago.

For just a few moments Lucky rested as best he could while still maintaining his sleep hold over his captives. Once again he reached into his pouch and traded his clover charm for the tiny pink heart shaped charm with a mineral vein running through its middle that looked like a crack.

Lucky crawled to the edge of the trap he had designed and sat with his feet dangling over the side. He pushed himself forward and slide down into the pit with his captives. The young humans continued to slumber beneath the blue moon sky. As Lucky looked at them he realized that he didn’t feel fear or anger or pity toward them. He didn’t feel anything. He had gone cold inside.

With one hand Lucky held night over the forest, and with the other he reached out, fingers trembling with exhaustion, and plucked a single hair from each sleeping head. He tucked the three hairs into his palm against the pink heart and secured them in his fist. Sighing deeply, he whispered the final incantation and transferred the flow of magic from moon to heart. Night dissolved back into day, and Lucky’s work was done.

“We’ve had this conversation before,” the hunched old warlock said from beneath his black hood. “My wares are valuable, and I will not trade them for anything but gold.”

“I have traveled far to find you, old man,” Lucky said.

“And I am glad to see that you are still alive,” the old warlock replied sincerely. “Although you appear changed somehow.” He frowned in thought. “It’s something in your demeanor.” After a moment the warlock shook his head, “Still I hope your journey was pleasant otherwise it has been a complete waste of your time because I will not trade for my goods.” The old man planted his twisted walking staff into the ground to emphasize the finality of his statement.

“Your other life as an apothecary has made you money hungry and blind to worth beyond that of yellow minerals,” Lucky scolded. “What I offer you is more valuable than gold.”

A humorless smile cracked the warlock’s ancient face and a dry laugh escaped his hunched body. “I doubt that very much.”

“Rare ingredients for your potions and spells.” But the warlock had turned his back to Lucky and was hobbling slowly toward his hut.

Lucky had not finished his pitch. “Everything you need; blood and bone and teeth and hair.”

“Black magic works just as well with the rabbit bones I find in the forest,” the warlock replied without turning or altering his pace.

“But rabbit bones don’t cure your aches,” Lucky called. “They don’t make you ageless.”

The warlock stopped in mid-gait. He placed the end of his staff gently in the grass and swung his head around to peer at Lucky over his shoulder. “It is forbidden to take human life.”

Lucky nodded. “For you perhaps. But I assure you that the deed is done, and I already have the parts.”

Beneath the black hood desire shown plainly in the old warlock’s gray eyes. The chance to turn back time for himself was a rare opportunity indeed. Lucky knew that there would be little the old man wouldn’t trade to have it.

After a few moments of thought the warlock asked, “How does it taste?”

Lucky’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Magically delicious.”