The New Magic - The Revelation of Jonah McAllister

night he was often confronted by the dilemma that he could not be the only person who had discovered these things, these simple words. He found himself sweating at the thought of someone else playing with his discovery, so much so that, during these times he would grab for his notebook and place it under his pillow while he slept, a now jealously guarded secret. He bought a safe in which to lock the book when he was away from it, barely even opened the door anymore and had ceased his trips to the bank. He had everything he needed in the apartment anyway.

It was after the ninth day of not going outside, of obsessing inside, that the sanctity of his self-imposed prison was shattered.

The outer wall of his apartment exploded.

He had been fooling around with the phonemes that had started the fire under his television, mixing in another one that had caused a glass to fly five feet across the room. A swing of his pen here, a turn of his tongue there and suddenly…

He found himself staring, dumbstruck into the gravel parking lot five stories down. His ears rang with the sound of it, but he barely noticed. Bits of insulation and plastic sheeting floated like feathers in amongst the dust of drywall and brick. The harsh bite of winter wind hit him instantly, but he barely noticed. The sight of the gaping hole in his wall and the strewn debris down below struck him so harshly that he felt his knees buckle.

There was a moment of sudden clarity, like that of a child playing with a gun when it inevitably went off. The forces with which he had been playing with had ripped a hole in his wall, reached into his apartment and slapped him across the face.

He sat there, staring out of the gaping hole even as the sirens approached, waiting until they were below him to snap out of his trance.

The jealousy that had taken ahold of him bade him to quickly gather up the notebook and throw it into his bag, insistent that they not be allowed to get their hands on it. As the loud banging announced the arrival of fire fighters came at his door he shoved the money and anything else on which he had performed his tests into the safe.

Jonah McAllister Celebrates the Holiday

The occupants of the next room were fighting. Either they were fighting or they were loving. And the less effort spent on figuring out which the happier everyone would be.

Jonah sat on the edge of the motel bed, unable to sleep with such noise. Of course he likely wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway. The explosion two days earlier had shaken him more than he would have admitted. The sense of giddiness was gone, broken, and in its place was a great sense of worry that if he tried to further understand what it was he was dealing with he would wind up destroying himself, either physically, mentally or both.

He sighed and rose from the bed. He grasped the bag he had rescued from his apartment, unzipping the top and pulling the notebook inside out into the light of day for the first time in two days. Laying it carefully on the chair across from the bed, he sat down and stared at the cover. It leered at him, beckoning with its dangerous secrets.

If the wall hadn’t exploded there was no telling what might have happened. He might have blown his own head clean off or melted the entire building around himself. Who knew exactly what was possible?!

His thoughts turned to the other materials he had left back in his safe while the building inspectors did what they were paid to do. They had said they would make sure it got placed in a storage locker once they were done with the inspection. But he didn't trust them. He could nearly hear the machinery grinding away at the lock, the forcing of the door and the vile lips that would read the words he had been so careful in writing down on notes attached to the items. He seethed for a moment. What if someone else got hold of it?

If it was dangerous for him then who was it safe with?

He had to get it back. He had to figure things out.

Jonah shook his head.

The thoughts threatened to overwhelm him, choking out anything else. He tried to think about something else, anything else. What would his parents be up to around now? Had his grandmother been released from the hospital yet? Could he reverse the phonemes that had created the fire under his TV to drop the temperature of an object?

He grit his teeth and stood up, pacing around the bed on the cheap carpeting.

He stopped where a small piece of paper lay on the floor, having fallen out when he removed the notebook from the bag. Plucking it up from its resting place he carefully unfolded it. Upon it was written a notification for a party, a party being held by the graduate student association to which he had earned an invitation through a favour he hadn’t wanted to do.

Of course, if he hadn’t done that favour… none of this would ever have happened.

He had forgotten about it with everything that had been happening and would have gone on forgetting about it if he hadn't scooped the notebook so wildly into the bag. He would have forgotten about it right up until it had concluded, about three hours after the time displayed on the flimsy motel clock.

There was promise in the piece of paper, the promise of being able to do something other than think for even a few hours, among other things. A chance to maybe ease his restlessness for a while.

He had been to few parties and none that weren't