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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Teens
- Theme: Fairy Tales & Fantasy
- Subject: Coming of Age / Initiation
- Published: 03/08/2015
WHERE’S MUM?
“YOU TOLD ME SHE WAS DEAD.” Callum wiped the spittle from the corner of his mouth. He held out the crumpled birthday card he’d found in the rubbish bin. “My darling Callum. Happy eighteenth birthday, Love Mum XXXX. So Dad, Where’s Mum? Where is she?”
His father snatched the card and ripped it into pieces. “As far as I’m concerned she is dead. She walked out after you were born.”
Callum turned quickly away to hide his tears and ran down the hall. He grabbed his coat, slammed the front door behind him.
The fallen tree trunk in the forest was a place Callum often sat, wondering what his mother had been like. Dad had destroyed all the photographs. Was her voice soft or harsh? Did she laugh often? He sighed, stared up at the clouds where he’d imagined she lay watching over him. The card had been hand delivered. Tomorrow he’d search for her.
Four hours later Callum licked at dry lips. The forest seemed different. He must have taken a wrong turn. He slumped to the ground, yawned; curled onto a ball.
It was cold, so, cold...
Through half closed eyes he half registered a light swinging from side to side further down the track. It seemed to hang in the air as it drew nearer but he couldn’t raise his head: it was so…so heavy...
Beautifully crafted furniture lay all around the workshop. An old man hummed softly as he chiselled away at a tree branch. Callum wrapped the soft blanket tighter.
The carpenter turned to face him. “You’re a fool boy: skulking around these woods at night.”
“It wasn’t my fault… I got lost,” Callum mumbled.
The man crossed the room. “Of course it was your fault. Until you accept that, you have no place in the forest. There are evil things out there that mean you harm.” The voice softened. “Here, drink this.”
Callum accepted a mug of earthy smelling liquid. He sipped. His weariness melted away. “What’s this?”
“Just tea made from herbs. You had a close call last night. You were unconscious when I found you. After you’ve eaten, I’ll put you on the right path.”
The old man handed Callum a wooden staff. It was as long as Callum was tall. A shoulder bag filled with food and water and an ancient compass followed. Callum stared at the bent needle.
“Trust the compass,” the carpenter said, when Callum was ready to leave. “One more thing. Not everything is what it seems, so be careful who you trust.”
The door slammed shut.
Callum examined the staff. It was light as a feather in his hand. His name was carved into the top. Puzzled, he glanced back, but the forest had already swallowed the carpenter’s workshop.
The compass pointed up a hill and Callum clambered onto a rocky outcrop with a charred tree in the centre. An unbroken blanket of green stretched as far as he could see in all directions. The bent needle swung in a complete circle before settling on a tiny animal track at right angles to his original course. He shrugged. At a junction of paths, the needle again swung left through ninety degrees. Callum listened to the gloomy silence for a moment. He seemed to recall that a compass needle should always point north and wondered if the thing was working properly. The path was wider but soon the needle swung left again. Callum tapped the glass but the compass stubbornly refused to change direction. I’m walking in a circle, he thought, ignoring the needle and continuing straight ahead.
The ground climbed up onto a rocky outcrop. Callum eyed the charred tree in the centre and slumped down to the ground. He choked back a sob. All he wanted to do was find his mum. A whistled tune drifted up the path followed by a young man and a small dog. He was barely the height of a child. His green clothes were overlaid with a brightly coloured waistcoat. He turned in a circle and looked out over the forest.
“Well tis far too beautiful a day for sadness, don’t you think?” He looked down at Callum. “I’m Sean and this...” He indicated the dog. “Be my good pal Murphy. “And what’ll be troubling a nice young man like you?”
Callum found himself telling the story. He pulled the compass from his pocket and held it out. “I want to get out of the forest and find my mum but this thing’s useless.”
Sean stroked the dog. “Well Callum, this really is your lucky day. I’ve always wanted a compass and I know a man who can fix it up. So I tell you what I’ll do.” He handed Callum a collar and lead. “You give me the compass and Murphy here can lead you out of the forest. Just let him go when you’re out.”
Callum handed over the compass, fastened the collar around Murphy’s neck and checked it couldn’t slip over the dog’s head. Picking up his staff and bag, he thanked Sean.
The dog led him through the forest. The branches above creaked and groaned, the trees grew thicker, the ground wetter. The path passed into a gloomy canyon.
“I don’t like this place, Murphy.” Callum tugged the lead. “Murphy?” He looked back. The lead and empty collar lay on the ground. A dim green glow lay ahead.
Callum emerged into a clearing but the only other path he could see lay beyond a pond choked with weed. A man in a black cloak stepped from the shadows. He swung a wooden staff and a cruel smirk creased his face.
Twigs snapped behind. Callum spun round. Four giant hounds blocked the canyon. They snarled, baring shark-like teeth, and started to herd him towards the man.
“Come now, Callum. I am your uncle Ivan, I mean you no harm.”
“What do… do you want?”
“A promise; nothing more.”
Callum glanced behind. The four devil dogs waited. “You’re lying. I don’t have an uncle.”
“Oh, but you do! Your mother is my sister.” Ivan glanced at Callum’s staff waving in front of his face. He held out his own. “And you obviously have no understanding of the world you’re in Callum.” He indicated the animals behind. “One tiny promise and I’ll stop them tearing you to pieces.”
“What promise?”
“That you never look for your mother again.” Ivan waved a hand at the monsters. Their muscles rippled. “This is your last chance.”
“No. I must see her.” Callum dived into the pond; started to swim for the path. The weed wrapped around him and pulled him down. He gasped, choked on a mouthful of water… A woman’s face popped into his mind. “You have magic inside you, Callum. Use your mind and take the power that the prophecy states is yours.”
Callum’s staff leapt into his hand and started to boil the water. The weed released him. He crawled out of the pond. The snarling animals crowded in; saliva dripping from their mouths. Callum swung the staff. Energy flooded through him, his mind filled with pictures. He was speaking words he’d never heard.
A flame leapt across the clearing. The creatures howled and turned to dust. Callum stared down at his hands.
Ivan pointed his staff at Callum. “So you’ve found your magic, but it’s too late Callum. You and your mother will soon be dead and I will rule the magical world.”
Callum pointed his staff at his uncle.
Ivan smirked cruelly. “Do you really believe you have the power to defeat me?”
Callum raised his arms as flames from his uncle’s staff snaked towards him. Ivan’s spell slammed against a barrier of light.
Callum pointed his staff. “I won’t let you harm my mum,” Callum shouted, and a bolt of lightning streaked towards Ivan. His uncle blocked the onslaught and sent a spell in return. Calum was flung to the ground. The staff flew from his hands and clattered against the rocks on the far side of the clearing. He stared at his empty hands and felt sick.
A pretty woman wearing a jewel encrusted crown appeared. She gently smoothed the hair on his forehead. “If you’d trusted the compass this fight would have been easier, Callum.”
“Why did you leave me?”
“I had to protect you from your Uncle until your eighteenth birthday when your magic matured. Now you are the most powerful wizard in this land. You do not need a staff.”
“Die with your son Airana.” Ivan loosed a devastating shaft of fire.
Anger filled Callum’s mind, he turned and reached out his hands…
A shaft of pure white light seared the air, splitting the firestorm. Ivan screamed as his staff turned to dust.
“Mum?”
“Yes.” She kissed him on the forehead.
“You’re a Queen?”
“You saved the magical world from tyranny. You’re a king, Callum.” She smiled.
She had a pretty smile, Callum thought, wrapping his arms around her neck.
Where's Mum!(Kevin Chilvers)
WHERE’S MUM?
“YOU TOLD ME SHE WAS DEAD.” Callum wiped the spittle from the corner of his mouth. He held out the crumpled birthday card he’d found in the rubbish bin. “My darling Callum. Happy eighteenth birthday, Love Mum XXXX. So Dad, Where’s Mum? Where is she?”
His father snatched the card and ripped it into pieces. “As far as I’m concerned she is dead. She walked out after you were born.”
Callum turned quickly away to hide his tears and ran down the hall. He grabbed his coat, slammed the front door behind him.
The fallen tree trunk in the forest was a place Callum often sat, wondering what his mother had been like. Dad had destroyed all the photographs. Was her voice soft or harsh? Did she laugh often? He sighed, stared up at the clouds where he’d imagined she lay watching over him. The card had been hand delivered. Tomorrow he’d search for her.
Four hours later Callum licked at dry lips. The forest seemed different. He must have taken a wrong turn. He slumped to the ground, yawned; curled onto a ball.
It was cold, so, cold...
Through half closed eyes he half registered a light swinging from side to side further down the track. It seemed to hang in the air as it drew nearer but he couldn’t raise his head: it was so…so heavy...
Beautifully crafted furniture lay all around the workshop. An old man hummed softly as he chiselled away at a tree branch. Callum wrapped the soft blanket tighter.
The carpenter turned to face him. “You’re a fool boy: skulking around these woods at night.”
“It wasn’t my fault… I got lost,” Callum mumbled.
The man crossed the room. “Of course it was your fault. Until you accept that, you have no place in the forest. There are evil things out there that mean you harm.” The voice softened. “Here, drink this.”
Callum accepted a mug of earthy smelling liquid. He sipped. His weariness melted away. “What’s this?”
“Just tea made from herbs. You had a close call last night. You were unconscious when I found you. After you’ve eaten, I’ll put you on the right path.”
The old man handed Callum a wooden staff. It was as long as Callum was tall. A shoulder bag filled with food and water and an ancient compass followed. Callum stared at the bent needle.
“Trust the compass,” the carpenter said, when Callum was ready to leave. “One more thing. Not everything is what it seems, so be careful who you trust.”
The door slammed shut.
Callum examined the staff. It was light as a feather in his hand. His name was carved into the top. Puzzled, he glanced back, but the forest had already swallowed the carpenter’s workshop.
The compass pointed up a hill and Callum clambered onto a rocky outcrop with a charred tree in the centre. An unbroken blanket of green stretched as far as he could see in all directions. The bent needle swung in a complete circle before settling on a tiny animal track at right angles to his original course. He shrugged. At a junction of paths, the needle again swung left through ninety degrees. Callum listened to the gloomy silence for a moment. He seemed to recall that a compass needle should always point north and wondered if the thing was working properly. The path was wider but soon the needle swung left again. Callum tapped the glass but the compass stubbornly refused to change direction. I’m walking in a circle, he thought, ignoring the needle and continuing straight ahead.
The ground climbed up onto a rocky outcrop. Callum eyed the charred tree in the centre and slumped down to the ground. He choked back a sob. All he wanted to do was find his mum. A whistled tune drifted up the path followed by a young man and a small dog. He was barely the height of a child. His green clothes were overlaid with a brightly coloured waistcoat. He turned in a circle and looked out over the forest.
“Well tis far too beautiful a day for sadness, don’t you think?” He looked down at Callum. “I’m Sean and this...” He indicated the dog. “Be my good pal Murphy. “And what’ll be troubling a nice young man like you?”
Callum found himself telling the story. He pulled the compass from his pocket and held it out. “I want to get out of the forest and find my mum but this thing’s useless.”
Sean stroked the dog. “Well Callum, this really is your lucky day. I’ve always wanted a compass and I know a man who can fix it up. So I tell you what I’ll do.” He handed Callum a collar and lead. “You give me the compass and Murphy here can lead you out of the forest. Just let him go when you’re out.”
Callum handed over the compass, fastened the collar around Murphy’s neck and checked it couldn’t slip over the dog’s head. Picking up his staff and bag, he thanked Sean.
The dog led him through the forest. The branches above creaked and groaned, the trees grew thicker, the ground wetter. The path passed into a gloomy canyon.
“I don’t like this place, Murphy.” Callum tugged the lead. “Murphy?” He looked back. The lead and empty collar lay on the ground. A dim green glow lay ahead.
Callum emerged into a clearing but the only other path he could see lay beyond a pond choked with weed. A man in a black cloak stepped from the shadows. He swung a wooden staff and a cruel smirk creased his face.
Twigs snapped behind. Callum spun round. Four giant hounds blocked the canyon. They snarled, baring shark-like teeth, and started to herd him towards the man.
“Come now, Callum. I am your uncle Ivan, I mean you no harm.”
“What do… do you want?”
“A promise; nothing more.”
Callum glanced behind. The four devil dogs waited. “You’re lying. I don’t have an uncle.”
“Oh, but you do! Your mother is my sister.” Ivan glanced at Callum’s staff waving in front of his face. He held out his own. “And you obviously have no understanding of the world you’re in Callum.” He indicated the animals behind. “One tiny promise and I’ll stop them tearing you to pieces.”
“What promise?”
“That you never look for your mother again.” Ivan waved a hand at the monsters. Their muscles rippled. “This is your last chance.”
“No. I must see her.” Callum dived into the pond; started to swim for the path. The weed wrapped around him and pulled him down. He gasped, choked on a mouthful of water… A woman’s face popped into his mind. “You have magic inside you, Callum. Use your mind and take the power that the prophecy states is yours.”
Callum’s staff leapt into his hand and started to boil the water. The weed released him. He crawled out of the pond. The snarling animals crowded in; saliva dripping from their mouths. Callum swung the staff. Energy flooded through him, his mind filled with pictures. He was speaking words he’d never heard.
A flame leapt across the clearing. The creatures howled and turned to dust. Callum stared down at his hands.
Ivan pointed his staff at Callum. “So you’ve found your magic, but it’s too late Callum. You and your mother will soon be dead and I will rule the magical world.”
Callum pointed his staff at his uncle.
Ivan smirked cruelly. “Do you really believe you have the power to defeat me?”
Callum raised his arms as flames from his uncle’s staff snaked towards him. Ivan’s spell slammed against a barrier of light.
Callum pointed his staff. “I won’t let you harm my mum,” Callum shouted, and a bolt of lightning streaked towards Ivan. His uncle blocked the onslaught and sent a spell in return. Calum was flung to the ground. The staff flew from his hands and clattered against the rocks on the far side of the clearing. He stared at his empty hands and felt sick.
A pretty woman wearing a jewel encrusted crown appeared. She gently smoothed the hair on his forehead. “If you’d trusted the compass this fight would have been easier, Callum.”
“Why did you leave me?”
“I had to protect you from your Uncle until your eighteenth birthday when your magic matured. Now you are the most powerful wizard in this land. You do not need a staff.”
“Die with your son Airana.” Ivan loosed a devastating shaft of fire.
Anger filled Callum’s mind, he turned and reached out his hands…
A shaft of pure white light seared the air, splitting the firestorm. Ivan screamed as his staff turned to dust.
“Mum?”
“Yes.” She kissed him on the forehead.
“You’re a Queen?”
“You saved the magical world from tyranny. You’re a king, Callum.” She smiled.
She had a pretty smile, Callum thought, wrapping his arms around her neck.
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