Not My Magical Destiny Part 1

Not My Magical Destiny part 1

Intro found here. next (part 2)>>

Kodi is interrupted by a welcome surprise: Gabriel. He has news and hopefully a damn good explanation as to why he went almost completely off the radar for the better part of two months

The bell to Purebread Pastries jingled sharply as my best friend walked into the bakery. Despite his all-black wardrobe, Gabriel had never darkened a doorway in his life; he was the most stubborn sweetheart I had the blessing of calling my best friend for the last decade. He was unfailingly good and only took criticism from anyone he held in the highest regard. Still, there was something odd about his entrance this morning. Naturally reserved, Gabe typically carried himself with an air of confidence, but now it was missing, tarnished like the chains strung between the pockets of his black jeans. His shoulders were broader than I remembered. He ran a nervous hand through his frizzy, floppy, poorly dyed hair. His roots were growing out, like mine – we always dyed it together. I hadn’t seen more than two inches of his natural jet-black hair since the first manic midnight four years ago in high school. While the difference unnerved me, I appreciated he hadn’t done anything that suggested he was trying to abandon me.

“Hey, Kodi,” Gabe said, picking at the grout lining the glass displays of pastry. Some of my finest work was behind there – palm-sized poodles, wreaths of roses, and a plethora of other puff pastry sculptures. 

I was not about to see my best friend, my soulmate, flounder for anything from me. In a weak attempt to lighten his mood, I said, “So you’ve come crawling back, have you?”

A smile cracked Gabe’s nervous composure. He let my teasing jibe fall flat, softly countering it with, “I missed you.”

“No, duh, you goof. I haven’t seen you for weeks,” I shot back, gently. I let the concern that had built up bleed through in a display of rare anger. “You’ve never replied to my texts in so few words. At least you didn’t call me, then I would have started worrying about you.”

He winced. “Sorry.”

“Hey,” I said, grabbing his hand and pulling it towards me. “It’s okay. You’re allowed to do your own thing. Just a little heads up next time you pseudo disappear would be nice. And remember, you can tell me anything. Or nothing. I love you no matter what.”

Tears welled up in Gabe’s eyes.

“Oh, hey, no. No crying. This is happy. You’re seeing your favourite person for the first time in seven weeks.”

Weakly, Gabe pushed my hand back at my chest where it brushed against the embroidery he’d done on my apron. 

This time, he said to himself, “Wow, I missed you, Kodi.”

Looking around the bakery ornamented with a zoo of hand-drawn animals, I ensured no customers were waiting before I retrieved a croissant from one of the bins in the back. I pushed it on a plate into Gabe’s mildly shaking hands and led him to sit at a table in the corner.

“Want to talk? Or just sit?” I asked, pointedly tugging at the singed collar of the flannel he had borrowed from my extensive collection. 

Cheeks darkening, Gabe tucked the exposed parts of the flannel into his black band shirt. “Just,” he stalled, “give me a minute. I need to collect my thoughts.”

“Of course,” I reassured, sitting back and watching him pick at the croissant. They had been a chore to make yesterday, but at least I didn’t get sore anymore. When I started working at the bakery part-time to fund my freshman year of college I had rarely been able to raise my arms above my head. It made waving across campus at all the acquaintances I had made difficult.

There were never any uncomfortable silences with Gabriel. Spending time together twenty-four-seven since meeting in a tree at six years old tends to do that to people. Nonetheless, there was a tension in the corner of Purebread Pastries that I hadn’t known with Gabe before. We sat in the quiet. I had to stifle the urge to squirm; it was easier to look busy with more people around instead of one person, even if that person was Gabe. I stole the last chunk of his pastry, returning his stuck-out tongue, the exchange loosening the worry that had been sitting on my gut for the past month and a half. 

“So,” Gabe said. He was stalling again.

I poked his side, right where I knew he was ticklish. He wrinkled his nose. He jabbed me back. I smiled. “So?” I prompted.

“I’ve been a little busy since I saw you last.”

I raised my eyebrows. No kidding. 

A guilty, nervous, awkward smile flashed across his face. Sorry.

It’s okay. I tilted my head forward.

If we wanted to have this conversation silently, we could. 

“It, uh,” stammered Gabe, “turns out I’m the child of some mystical prophecy.” It looked like it pained him to get the words out.

Were it anyone else, I would have accused them of pulling my leg. But we didn’t lie to each other and I hoped I would get a better explanation out of him if I gave him the time. I set a hand on his thigh, soothing. “That sounds like a dream come true for you, nerd.”

Gabe nodded. “That’s what I thought, too, at first. It went badly very quickly, though. Turns out the fantasy worlds I’ve been reading about don’t compare to the real thing. You see…”

I tried my hardest to keep hold of the thread of his explanation. He didn’t go into much detail. I tried to keep my expression placid and reassuring instead of betraying the panic of this revelation. It didn’t make any sense. I tried to grapple with the impossibility of what Gabriel was saying.  I knew Gabe had an active, vivid imagination, but he would never create such a twisted world lying beneath our feet and above our heads. It was so ridiculous no one could have made it up. 

The ranks of Envy, Sloth, Gluttony, Wrath, and others I couldn’t keep track of were trying to keep the world balanced. They had been suffering under the more numerous ranks of Gratitude, Temperance, Chastity, and their partners. There was brimstone and burning light, blades and acid, fire and frost. 

There was no way I could remember it all. Then again, I never did particularly well on tests. Still, I had no idea how he did it and stayed safe, relatively speaking. If I thought I was worried for Gabe while he was gone with next to no explanation, it didn’t compare to my fear for him now.

He wrapped up his account and revelations, looking at me with hope raw behind his eyes.

“Okay,” I stuttered. “Okay. Wow. That’s… a lot to handle.”

“That’s why they asked me not to tell anyone from my old life,” he admitted, studying the crumbs on his plate. “Why I promised to stay away. But I just needed to talk to someone. And we don’t keep secrets.”

I whisked the plate away and his gaze snapped up to follow my retreat to the kitchen. Finally out of view, I let my calm facade crumble. There didn’t seem to be enough time to process what he had told me. Maybe I had read too many books from the library that was his old room, but I almost found myself believing him. We had played pretend plenty, but this seemed different. There was a gravity to his words, a shift in his demeanor; if anyone could see it, it would be me. Gabe didn’t make anything up for the fun of it, lest it tarnish his reputation. He only created excellence, so there was no reason to tell tall tales about his life. 

It was only a moment between placing the plate by the sink and returning to the counter, but, still, something almost broke in Gabe’s face. Only thread and faith held him together. I crooked my finger and he practically fell over himself to join me behind the cash register. Pulling him into a hug, his t-shirt smelled like ash and despair instead of biblichor. He crushed his face into my shoulder; I felt every ridge of his face, his cheeks tugging into a fragile, relieved smile. Our hugs hadn’t changed since we’d met. There was always safety in our arms when we were together. Shoulders cupped in my calloused hands, I held him out in front of me and pressed our foreheads together.

“And you betrayed their trust for me?”

Gabe yanked me back into the hug, grumbling, “Of course.”

I smirked. “Does that mean you like me?” I singsonged.

Shoving me away, Gabe cackled, the first true joy I had seen on his face since he walked through the door. Through snickers, he said, “Goodness, no. We’ve tried that before.”

Stifling my own laughter, I corroborated, “Yeah, that was a trainwreck.” Platonic and romantic feelings were hard to differentiate when you weren’t straight. We had dated in junior year of high school but realized what we felt for each other wasn’t good old-fashioned romance. I would say we broke up, but what we did together remained the same before, during, and after our “confused period.” How could you break up if you weren’t together, to begin with? Labels were complex, even with people you knew better than yourself. 

“So, no,” smiled Gabe, “I don’t like you. I love you, Kodi.”

“Love you more.”

Gabe sighed with more world-weariness than I wanted to hear from him. “I should probably go,” he said. “They’ll be wondering where I am.” His feet looked like they weighed as much as a house as he trudged towards the door.

“Gabe!” I called.

He turned in time to see the roll flying towards his head. For a moment, it glowed purple. The roll stopped its arc. It dropped into his hand. He stashed it in his black over-the-chest bag. He smiled his thanks.

“Hey,” I said, fixing him with a look. He knew what it meant. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“To you?” Gabriel scoffed. His expression softened. “Never.”

next (part 2) >>

''Useless'' Writing Reminders

Save your documents. Strive to be safe, not sorry.

Back-up your documents. Strive to be safe, not sorry.

Placeholder names can quickly turn into forever names. Picking name(s) on a whim can lead to great things, or it can become your worst nightmare (😁).

Your writing has value. Yes, even the most inadequate of writing. You don't have to boast or even like everything you've ever written, but even the most questionable of writing will have contributed to your growth as a storyteller. Cherish it for what it is.

You can take a break. It is absolutely okay.

First drafts are scary. But you know what's more scary? Not having a draft at all.

Using clichés or ''overdone'' tropes will not kill your story. Firstly, tropes are building blocks. Secondly, humans actively search to consume stories revolving around these tropes.

Write your heart out. Boast about your writing. Boast about your friends' and fellow writers' writing. Everyone deserves recognition, even you, from within your own heart. (Sorry. That's really cheesy. But it's true).

Happy Blorbo Blursday, Eve! For Maggie: What makes her stomach turn? What skeeves her out? What makes her shudder while she thinks about it? Sending good 🌌🌌 vibes 🌌🌌 and good luck your way! - ✨️ Enc

hello lovely!

As a nerd, she cringes at the thought of books/knowledge being destroyed, as a principle. Along that vein, or so she says, she can't stand moths since they've caused destruction to books. In reality, it's the weird papery texture they have -- they kind shed dust sometimes and it gives her the ick

Not My Magical Destiny

Welcome one and all to my most recent self-created brainrot!! I have had this idea cooking for months and my creative writing class has given me the perfect avenue/inspiration for it. So, enjoy!

Kodi is a humble college student working at a bakery. Well, when their deferral is up they’ll be a student again. Their best friend Gabriel has been missing for a few weeks and Kodi has heard next to nothing from him, save one-word texts answering their messages. Finally, he shows up at the bakery, spouting tales of a magical world under their feet and above their head. He’s a key part of it in ways Kodi can barely stomach to think about; it would make them sick to their stomach if Gabe got hurt. 

How will Kodi deal with this revelation and the consequences of their best friend’s actions?

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

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