Chapter One: Magicians

Vesavius's introduction

The man’s wand tapped the rim of the top hat and out came a rabbit. Classic… Cliché… Boring… Vesavius folded his arms, allowing his medium length black hair to fall over his eyes. To compensate for his boredom he often fiddled with his silver lip ring that set lifeless in the corner of his mouth. His attention often strayed from the man posing as magic to his little brother, and all of the other children of young ages that paid with their parents’ cash, and to his right arm that was inked with flames of freedom. Vesavius cared less about magic, real or artificial. All that mattered is that his brother had silenced himself for a bit. After two hours of ridiculous “magic,” he was beginning to question his brother’s sense of amusement. 

Once again Vesavius’s eyes fell upon his tattoo. His eyes traced the blood red outline. Today, the flames flowed like rivers across his flesh. Something today seemed different. He had been feeling a bit off since awakening that morning. His body felt lighter, head a bit heavier, and his soul, in which he did not believe, felt a bit more detached. 

“Can we leave now, Vex?” Timlin, the younger sibling that was king of annoyance begged. “I’m hungry!”

“Yeah, yeah Gremlin. I thought you’d never ask.” He gripped his younger brother’s shoulder, escorting him outside. Once they basked in the sunlight, Vesavius’s sunglasses seemed to place themselves upon his face, it was so natural. The aviator’s sat, seeming satisfied upon his perfectly sculpted nose.

Timlin picked up on Vesavius’s discontent. “Did you not like the show Vex?”

Vesavius remained silent as they approached the vehicle. Vesavius opened the door to the passenger side of the SUV for his younger brother. He then seated himself inside it and started the ignition. The SUV was prepped and ready to leave. It seemed every element, even the content being that was Timlin the Gremlin, eagerly fled from the cheap show. 

The two boys were on the road on the way to home. The sun was setting over the mountains of their hometown. It was a small town. Not one that could hold someone as ambitious as Vesavius the Hellhound. He wanted to create his life; he just wanted to do everything. He could not decide on a stable path because he was very well-rounded, not excelling in anything specifically well but never disappointing in anything! Except maybe, as Timlin pointed out, magic.

“Could you do that Vex?”  Timlin eagerly asked. Vex was the father figure to Timlin. Timlin admired everything his older brother did. It was a true brotherly love that made Timlin believe Vex could do anything.

Vex looked over to Timlin, annoyed obviously, but it was that dumb smile that always got Vesavius. It killed the worst in him. That smile was a mixture of cuteness and stupidity all concocted into one ridiculously bright facial expression. His face was pure and painless. Vex also noticed that Timlin had not fastened his seatbelt.

“Sure. I do that stuff all the time.” His focus was back on the road that continually extended.

“Really?” Timlin was impressed even more.

“Oh yeah! Every night before I say my prayers!” The atheist smirked to the gold and black road before him. 

Timlin detected the thick amounts of sarcasm that Vex injected in his lie. “Nuh-uh! You’re lying!”

“Nuh-uh! Wanna see magic?”

Timlin, the anxious eight year-old, thought for a moment. Vex was a mischievous trickster when he wanted to be, and Timlin was checking for any opening. He had grown accustomed to the tricks, yet he couldn't find anything treacherous within the curiosity.

“Yeah!” He shouted eagerly.

Vesavious yanked the steering wheel to the right and then to the left! Little Timlin’s head slammed into the window and then recoiled! He uttered under his breath but they were not acknowledged by Vesavius.

“Put on your seatbelt, jerk. What have I told you?” Vex scolded, restraining his laughter.

After a thirty minute drive of ignorant questions and bland road, Vesavius felt relieved to sit on the couch at home. Vesavius was nineteen and awaiting the end of autumn before attending college. His mother, a lady with light brown hair and bright brown eyes was worried about him but dared not to vocalize her concerns. Her concerns usually evolved into yelling whereas his only response was sarcastic mockery and exiting and her not knowing when he would return. Vesavius’s father would have beaten him into shape, had he survived the brutal car wreck that separated the family so badly. Vesavius was eight years-old and only remembered what his father looked like and held one memory: that of his father awarding him a chocolate bar. Though as dear as he held that memory, he strayed from that candy. 

Vesavius’s mother, Regina, was driven to slight alcoholism. None could say she was worse than anyone in town, but what made her was the denial and the shame wrought from it. At times Timlin would walk in upon his mother’s “dizziness” and ask her if she needed help. Shame would bathe her body as a thick syrup weighing her body down. Tears would then coat her face. This, ironically, would lead to guilt binging. Usually, she acted normal. She did love her family, but tried so hard to please their every whim rather than parent them. She became a servant of type and dnot even an adequate one at that, since her drinking.

Vesavius himself had become a misanthropist. He despised humanity for its stupidity. Vesavius was the type that believed he knew the truth. He was the common man. He always memorized things that proved his beliefs. To be someone who believed in no Gods, he surely idolized his belief in nothing. Vesavius not only hated religion, he hated the thought of love. He hated the thought of afterlives. He hated the idea of happiness. He firmly believed human’s sole purpose was to survive, or at least he had convinced himself to believe this. Vesavius was a confused young man who only compensated for the answers he did not have in a book written by some man in a lab coat and sharp square-framed glasses.

Author's Note

Now, you can judge the story.