This is a copy of a branching story I wrote on tf-media.net before it closed. I thought it could use a new home and get new people interested in it. I'm only copying the branches that I added.
It was a couple of days before my 16th birthday and I was sitting in my room doing the reading for my World Lit. class. I heard the front door open downstairs and set the book aside figuring that greeting my Mom as she got home from work was a good enough excuse to put off more boring reading, at least for a while.
I walked downstairs and said "Hi Mom" as I entered the kitchen where she was setting down her briefcase, a small bag of groceries and the mail.
"Hi honey. How was school today?" she said with a smile that was as much for being glad to be home as it was for seeing me.
"Oh, you know. It was school, same old same old. Work?"
"You would not believe how boring it was. I spent all day sitting in a meeting with a new client that I swear had a dead weasel draped across the top of his head. I mean who did he think he was fooling?" She said with a smile. It amazes my friends how well my Mom and I get along. They are, of course, also amazed at how young she looks, but since she had me when she was only 15 why wouldn't she look young, right?
"Oh, something came in the mail for you today. It's that package on the bottom." she said pointing at the mail. "I think it's from your father, probably a birthday present."
I didn't really know my father all that well, he and my Mom hadn't stayed to together after she got pregnant. I'd met him a few times when I was younger but he lived all the way on the east coast and we hadn't seen each other in a couple of years. I got the occasional e-mail and he always sent me something for my birthday and Christmas so I guess I had it better than a lot of guys whose father left their mother.
"Thanks Mom." I said walking over and picking up the round tube-like package. It was a little over a foot long, but only about an inch around. "Do you need any help with dinner?"
"No thanks honey, I got it covered." she said pulling ingredients from the bag of groceries.
"Okay. Then I guess I better get back to my homework. I've got to finish reading Henry the VIII by tomorrow."
"Geeze, is old man Horowitz still teaching that thing?"
"Yep, somethings never change." I said as I left the room and went back upstairs to continue my reading.
I didn't think about the package my father had sent me again until after dinner. I picked it up looking at it and figured 'what the hell, it's close enough to my birthday.' I cut the tape and pulled off the end cap. As I did something fell out and roll a little ways across the carpet before coming to rest against my desk.
I bent down and picked it up. It appears to be a round wooden rod, maybe a half-inch in diameter. It was made from some kind of dark shiny wood. Maybe walnut? It tapered slightly from one end down to a blunt point at the other.
"Great, my dad thinks I'm into Harry Potter" I said out loud to myself looking at the 'magic wand'. I looked in the package tube to see if there was anything else in there. I found a short hand written letter, in my father's handwriting:
Dear Scott,
Happy 16th Birthday! I found this wand at a garage sale a few weeks ago and for some reason it made me think of you. The old lady that I bought it from assured me it was a real magic wand that could do amazing things. She also gave me the book that I sent that has a selection of spells that you can use. She also warned me not to try using the wand unless I was casting one of the spells from the book, as the results could be unpredictable.
I'm sure you're too old to believe in magic anymore, but I figured that you could use it for Dungeons & Dragons or something. If it does turn out to be real magic great! If not I'll buy you that new PS3 game you were telling me about in your last letter when I come to see you next month. That's right: I finally got enough time off that I can come out to see you. We'll have a whole week together to do whatever you want. It'll be great.
Anyway I should let you go for now. At least give the wand a try okay? See you next month. I love you
- Dad
Great it's worse than I'd thought: My father didn't think I was into Harry Potter, he thought I was into Dungeons & Dragons. But it will be great to see him again. What was that part about a book though? I hadn't seen any other packages today. Maybe it will be in tomorrows mail.
I turned on my desk lamp for some more light. I picked up the wand again and holding it under the light looked at it more closely. Beneath the varnish there appeared to be tiny letters or symbols carved into the wood though it felt perfectly smooth. I waved it around experimentally testing the weight. It was surprisingly well balanced. 'Too bad magic doesn't really exist' I thought. But if magic didn't really exist it couldn't be dangerous to use without the book; right?
Okay no one is around to see me acting foolish, may as well give it a try like my father asked. But what to do?
