This fiction piece accompanies Serena Z’s article, Students Meet Author Polly Shulman Over Lunch. Ms. Shulman writes about magic and so does Serena Z.
I twisted my braid excitedly. My best friend, Brooke had just told me that she had gone to see a sorceress or something like that and gotten a present for me. I had laughed at her when she told me, but now I was thinking about how nice it would be to get something magical on my birthday. The past few years I had gotten some pretty awesome gifts, but magical stuff beat all of that, of course!
The doorbell rang. I bolted up from my chair and ran to the door, all pumped up and ready to see the gift Brooke had brought for me. The door flew open the second I reached it, even though I did not touch it. I came face to face with a very tall woman wearing all dark purple.
“I am here,” she drawled, “for Camilla Swanson?”
“Th-… that” I stuttered, “is me.”
She stared down at me, her eyes boring into mine. I tossed my head back, casually ignoring the looks she sent in my direction.
She slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out a thin piece of paper. She consulted it. “I believe that someone named Brooke Webster ordered a magical item for Camilla Swanson? Has this Brooke told you anything about this?” she asked, her words clipped and short. I nodded, not sure where she was going with this. “I am here, at your house, Camilla Swanson, because holding a magical item in your possession is a dangerous thing. Using magic can get a little out of hand, yes? I am here to tell you how to properly use your item and not over-do it. Number one. Use it as it says in the instruction book that comes with your item.” She smiled, pleased with herself. “Understand?” Without even throwing a glance at me, she strode out of the door and disappeared. I stared after her.
Brooke arrived at my house a few minutes later, out of breath from jogging. She carried a small box with her, tucked under her arm. I tugged on the box and she let go of it. She smirked at my eagerness. I tore open the box in less than two seconds and stared at it in wonder. It glowed brightly. I searched for an instruction book. There was none.
After overcoming my shock that the lady had lied about an instruction book, I began examining the item. It was a shell on a piece of cord, which I guessed made it a necklace. Somebody began to talk to me the second I put the necklace on. I whirled around, and when I realized that Brooke wasn’t talking, I scanned my entire yard. I walked a few feet forward. The voice followed me. I touched my shell cautiously, and this time I was quite sure I knew who was talking. The shell.
I whispered to the shell, “What is your magical power, little one?”
The shell immediately replied, “My power, dear one, is quite simple. You hold me to your ear and whisper the full name of anyone whose voice you would like to hear. It can be anyone in the world, but you must whisper a trait of that person, because I may give you the wrong person with the same name. Also, imagine a picture of that person in your mind. You can hear them from the past, present, or even future. You may hear people who have passed on, you may hear others’ conversations, you may even hear what people are going to say in the future.” After this speech, the shell gave a sigh of relief and stopped talking, completely exhausted.
I smiled at my shell, then up at Brooke. “I love it,” I laughed, throwing my arms around her. She smiled at me.
“Try it out,” she said. And I did. I said the full name of my best friend, Nicole Jessa Harrison, who had moved a year ago, and I missed terribly. I said the trait I had always thought of her; considerate. I closed my eyes and thought of her the last time I had seen her, in a light puffy parka jacket lugging a suitcase. The shell grew warm in my hands.
“Past, present or future, dear one?” it asked. “I am letting you hear the present now.” I heard Nicole’s voice, laughing softly, chatting with her friends. I closed my eyes, letting the sound wash over me, knowing that I would never have a moment in my life again where I wouldn’t be talking to this shell. “Past, present or future, dear one?” it asked again.
“Future,” I laughed. “Who wouldn’t want to try that one out?”
