Motherhood Monday Fiction Meme – Thirteen
It’s that time of the week again. Motherhood Monday’s Fiction Meme and this week it’s on the subject of something lucky. Please go to Anonymom‘s great site to find out more about what Motherhood Monday actually is. Anyway here’s my attempt -
The Levus Brothers were said to be the unluckiest pair of wizards in the whole of the North Kingdom. Abandoned by their mother pretty much before they even received their first wand, it was of occasional debate amongst wizarding circles when they had nothing better to talk about whether the loss of their mother was the Brothers first act of bad luck or whether they had been cursed from the day they were born and their poor hapless mother had grown tired of the misfortune they attracted and so had abandoned them herself.
The Levus Brothers grew up on the street and desperate for any shelter they could find were soon drawn into the protection of The Wizard Malum and his gang. But the protection came at a price and the two boys had to work for their shelter and the business of The Wizard Malum was no business by rights two small boys should work in.
And so the Levus Brothers grew up, with no one to care for them and everyone to hate them as their misfortune continued unabated and bad luck followed them wherever they went. Eventually even The Wizard Malum grew tired of the now young men’s malign influence on his empire and plans were afoot to remove the Brothers in the most final of ways.
We join the scene as the unlucky Levus Brothers are being chased by one of The Wizard Malum’s trolls, sparks flying as the troll’s broad shoulders scrape against the sides of the narrow alley that the unfortunate brothers are stumbling down. The brothers could feel the troll’s hot sulphurous breath across their backs, only chance could save them now and she’d lost them along time ago. One of the brothers slipped behind the other, to be pulled just in time from the troll’s stony grasp by the other. Keeping hold of each other’s hands, they ran on, dodging crates and bin bags, as the troll just squashed said crates and bin bags flat. A light rain was falling through the narrow slit of sky above, the exit to the alleyway never seeming to get closer, the flagstones beneath their running feet getting progressively more wet and slippy, when the inevitable happened when one then the other lost their footing and together they fell into a heap of bin bags. The troll seemed not to notice their fall and lumbered on, disappearing into the distance with a roar of frustration.
The two brothers lay flat on their backs amidst the rotting rubbish, daring not to breath, waiting for that stony hand to reach down and grab them at any moment. Eventually one brother then the other let out a deep sigh of relief. The slightly braver, slightly older brother, Misellus sat up first, pulling pieces of rotten cabbage from his hair, seeing that the coast was clear, at least for the moment, he extended a hand to his younger brother Fatum, who feebly grasped it and with his brother’s help, pulled up to sitting, his robes stained with aging tomatoes.
“Wha . . ., what happened there brother?” stuttered Fatum.
“That I think brother was luck,” replied Misellus.
Fatum nearly swooned at the very idea.
“Pull yourself together” ordered Misellus “we need to get out of this town, before Malum realises that he has to send something slightly less dumb than a troll after us.”
Misellus clambered to his feet, brushing the dirt off his already stained robes as best as he could, he extended another helping hand out to Fatum, when they both paused in fright when they heard a rustle right besides them.
“A rat?” stuttered Fatum hopefully to his brother.
Misellus put his finger to his lips. The brothers stood, not moving a muscle, yet readying as much capacity as they had to run at a moments notice.
Rustle again, “Waaaahhhhh”.
Misellus and Fatum looked at each other quizzically, still daring not to breath.
“Waaaaaaahhhhhhh”, the cry louder this time.
“Some strange hell creature?” whispered Fatum.
“It’d be a small hell creature,” said Misellus quietly, as he studied the pile of bin bags the sound was emanating from.
The bags were rustling, one on the verge of falling off the pile. Misellus and Fatum watched the bag rock hypnotically in front of their eyes, willing it not to fall and then in slow motion it did, revealing a tiny pink chubby arm.
“Argh it’s a pink worm creature from Mortillus!” screeched Fatum, still remembering himself enough to screech quietly.
“No, I don’t think so brother” said Misellus as he bent forward and carefully started to remove the bin bags, one by one and then suddenly “hello”.
Misellus reached to pick something up, his brother cowering behind him, daring not to look.
Misellus turned to his brother “It’s a baby”.
A baby boy lay gurgling in Misellus’ arms, wrapped in nothing but a piece of old midnight black velvet cloak.
“What’s he doing here?” wondered Fatum.
“I think he’s been abandoned,” said Misellus.
“Like us” said Fatum sadly.
“Yes, like us” replied Misellus.
“What are we going to do with him?” asked Fatum.
“He can’t stay here,” said Misellus.
“Neither can we, that troll may be back again in a minute” said Fatum.
“Let’s go then”.
Misellus turned to go, the baby still in his arms. Fatum put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.
“Hang on brother, what do we call him?”
“Mmmm, how about baby?” replied Misellus hurriedly, looking around him, not keen on hanging round cramped alleyways when certain trolls were keen to make their acquaintance.
“No, that won’t do, he has to have a proper name, think of one brother, you were always the thinker of the two of us” said Fatum.
“Brother, we have to . . .”
Fatum interrupted him “Everybody has to have a name brother”.
Misellus knew his brother was not going to be swayed and would be rooted to the spot till this current train of thought had been solved. Misellus looked round hurriedly for some naming inspiration.
“Mmm, binbag? Crate? Cabbage? Rat? Puddle?”
With each suggestion, Fatum shook his head.
Misellus looked around him in desperation; there was something on the wooden padlocked door behind the pile of binbags. Misellus reached over and wiped away some of the centuries of grime with his already filthy hand, slowly from the dirt emerged on the door in faded green paint, the number 13.
“Thirteen?” suggested Misellus.
Fatum nodded his head, “Mmmm, Thirteen, I like that.”
And so Thirteen was christened and Misellus and Fatum escaped the alleyway troll free.
The days that followed turned into years and Thirteen, in spite of the Levus Brothers inexperience in the art of parenting grew from babe to a spirited young boy. The Levus Brothers weren’t quite as unlucky as they pottered through life with the boy, somehow avoiding whatever The Wizard Malum threw at them.
The Wizard Malum had dispatched, roving curses, goblins and monsters after the now not quite so hapless Brothers but none of them ever found their mark. The Wizard Malum was beginning to think that he would have to see to the Levus Brothers personally and so it was on Thirteen’s thirteenth year did the Wizard Malum find them.
Prior to that day Thirteen and the Levus Brothers were an inseparable trio, but The Great North Kingdom Market was approaching and this year Thirteen wanted to explore it by himself. There were some stalls of metamorphing firecrackers that Thirteen always thought the Levus Brothers walked past way too quickly and this year he was going to buy some. So when the trio approached the metamorphing stalls Thirteen lagged behind as usual, but instead of being nagged to hurry up, Misellus turned and smiling, tossed a small sack of gold coins to the boy.
“Enjoy son. Meet us at the Crooked Wand in an hour.”
Thirteen was soon lost in the pleasures of choosing exactly which metamorphing firecracker he wanted as the Brothers strolled round the corner and straight into The Wizard Malum.
The Wizard Malum flapped his midnight black velvet cloak, an unconscious dramatic tic.
“So we finally meet again Brothers, it’s been a long time”
The Levus Brothers stopped in their muddy tracks. The rest of the market goers seemed to melt away into the background.
“Sir” squeaked the slightly braver Misellus, quaking in his boots.
“Well we better be quick about this, I’m not letting you escape again” as he drew out his wand from his cloak and prepared to aim an obliterating fireball at the Brothers
Just as the fireball emerged crackling, swelling ever bigger from the tip of the dramatically flourished wand of The Wizard Mallum, Thirteen, who had successfully purchased the pink worm variety of the metamorphing firecracker, strolled unsuspectingly round the corner. The fireball looked to land at any moment between the two quaking brothers, rooted to the spot not by magic but by fear. Thirteen ran at the brothers, knocking them both down into the churned mud, the fireball whizzing over them and obliterating the market stall behind them.
The Wizard Malum who had been expecting a simple job was stunned into temporary silence but it didn’t last long.
“Wha, wha, WHAT!!!! Oh never mind, I’ve got another fireball where that came from”.
The Wizard Malum aimed again, the Brothers continued to cower into the mud but Thirteen sat up in the mud, looked straight at the Wizard Malum and the aged wizard paused momentarily, unused to being looked at so directly by anyone, especially by someone so young and Thirteen simply said.