Let's just begin this story from New York. No, from San Francisco. No, from New Orleans. No, from Milwaukee. Alright! I'm confused. Let's just go back to New York, back to the very beginning. Back to when the hands of a gypsy left me a black-eyed envelope. Back to Subway 1-9-X. Back to or on the train. Back to...yeah, now I remember in retrospect, Potions Incorporated.
***
- POTIONS INCORPORATED
You see, if you know about Potions Incorporated you know a lot. Take that. It's not just what they say, it holds water. That's exactly where baby magicians go to – ask anyone who's ever done his homework on magic. It's the home for wannabe magicians. That's precisely where most sorcerers in this Gotham city learnt their ABCs. Potions Inc. is home to the world's most adored and respected sorcerers. But it's also home to the...okay, let's skip that part. I hate spoilers. You'd thank me later, I guess. Unless you die before the end of this very story, which I hate to say might be the case. Look, I'm not trying to scare you. I haven't been scared of a single thing in my whole life. And, sometimes, I think that makes me a miserable...yeah...son of a bitch? Well, maybe rightly so! Considering I got new to this world and had my first bed and bath in a trash can. Yeah, pretty much so, since I got abandoned at age One Hour, Twenty-five minutes and Forty seconds. Yeah, that may not be exact. But you get the point. So, maybe, I am a son of a bitch after all. So in Gotham city you learn how to wave a wand. Yeah, you got that one right. In Potions. A fine building hidden away from naked eyes. The first time I arrived at Potions, I thought I was lost forever. This is not a case of hindsight colouring my memory. I think it was the whole plan of the universe for me to meet that bald-headed gypsy. And, even now, even as I speak to you, I am glad I had taken the envelope disregarding the conspicuous strangeness of that very encounter and the black-eyed envelope. Six weeks in Potions felt like six years on another planet with exquisite gorgeousness. And it was here I met the first true enigma in my whole life – the time-bending Sirius. Ever heard of that? I bet you never have. I think Sirius should be on the Navy Seals, because he's always talking about ships and nautical miles off the coast of Antigua. Coupled with his knowledge of expedition is an inextinguishable passion for flora and fauna, and the denizens of a place he calls Papauski. Never heard of that? Then you are not alone – I never have. But Sirius is sure Papauski is off the coast of Antigua. But I think it's all jabberwocky, even though he'd rather have his head on a stake than stop talking about this place only he knows about. Sometimes I want to believe him. Sometimes I'm just out of sync with my imagination. It little helps that an idle mind should believe this, for upon brooding it turns the wheels of reasoning. But, matter-of-factly, I was not keen to give my thoughts to that little tale – for it was not why the black-eyed envelope was pressed into my hand at Subway 1-9-X. The message in the envelope was short and straight forward: Your future looks a tad bright. We can help. Stop at 1254 Queens Boulevard, first door right. You don't know what glory awaits you.
– Gypsy.
Sometimes I wonder what my not-so-cool life would have been if I had not received that unsolicited envelope at the subway. Maybe I would have still been working shifts at Starbucks. Maybe. That's if you would think in that direction. Maybe it was my destiny calling out to me. About that, I would never know. But I found my way to 1254 Queens Boulevard. The door was right where the letter had said it would be. As I walked into that corridor, it did not take me the whole Jupiter to spot the very door. It was black, and had a red spot. That red spot was no red spot at all. It was a button. And before I made up my mind to press the button, I left a voice note for someone I know could come to my rescue should things go south. The door simply beeped and opened. I looked for a moment, which could have been a minute or so. Then I walked in. Behind me, I heard the shutting sound of the door. And in the next few seconds or so, two men in black suits came to take me from another door in the room I would likely call a cell. I nearly peed my pants.
***
They say one needs a deep inclination to understand surreal things. I do not make any attempt now to disagree, for as I left the other door I found myself in a garden full of scarecrows and floating papers. The two men holding each of my hands stopped. And no sooner than they had, the ground lowered itself like an elevator till we were depths below. And upon reaching a floor down there, there was a sudden eruption of voices. The voices were so loud and shrill that I had to cover my ears. But soon it died down, turning only into murmurs. And as I looked around, there was no one I could see. Then I looked at the faces of the men besides me and let out a loud, deafening shriek. They were wearing ugly masks with plastic tongues drooping down.
"You will be fine." one of them said. "It's the ritual."
I gasped and looked around. It felt as though I was sitting in a fantastical bus with a sea of sponges. In the distance, a boy was coming with a flower bouquet. Alright, let's pause here. Have you ever imagined you were dead? Have you ever tried to run in a tensely dreadful dream but your legs were but little spongy things? Yeah, I derail a lot sometimes. I'm not a good storyteller? I don't know. Back to the boy now. His eyes were closed, and he was wearing a pair of shorts too short to be called shorts. Yeah, those pairs of shorts? I have never seen anything like those. And as he walked, he moved his head this and that way – so that it seemed he was actually dancing without effort.
"Where am I?" I asked, F in my shaking voice – if F means fear.
"The Magical Mansion." the other man said. "It's the first step to gaining admission into Potions Incorporated."
"Who..."
"I get it." the first man interrupted. "The boy? His name's Sirius."
So folks, you see? Sirius was the first soul from Potions I met. Yeah, that's if you ignore those two knucklehead, mask-wearing geezers standing by my sides. They say Time waits for nobody, but I guess it waits for Sirius. Yeah, you get what I mean. Unless you jumped into this story from God-knows-where. So Sirius handed me the bouquet, spoke something probably Dutch and shook my hand.
"I bend time," he said, opening his eyes. "It's a deep well at noon. Welcome to The Magical Mansion – the world's most magical enclave."
"What's the catch?" I asked, following him as he turned forward.
"M is the catch." he answered. "And M is the word here."
"Magic?" I asked, turning to notice that the two masked men were gone.
"No. Monkey." he said, wittingly. "Don't tell me a dunce received our invitation. Would that be the case?"
"No, no. I get it." I said. "So when do I get to meet the gypsy who gave me the envelope?"
"You ask too many questions, boy. That's a sign of, you know...well, forget it." he said. "Your benefactor is in New Orleans right now."
I wanted to ask another question, you know what. But I kept it to myself. So as we walked down the long corridor, Sirius told me a little of what to expect from The Magical Mansion.
***
When, after a brief walk, Sirius and I arrived at a door tagged "Magical Mansion – Invites Only", Sirius rubbed his lips and pressed a button. He put his eye close for corneal recognition. "You've been granted access." the door wrote with musical accompaniment that struck a chord of horror in my head. I know I nearly peed my pants.
"Is there anything else to expect?" I asked Sirius.
"Expect anything. The Magical Mansion has members all over the world. Expect everything you've never experienced. Expect the unimaginable."
Just now, a flash of lights hit my face. There was this music, and people were dancing and sweating all over the place.
"Is this it?"
"Yes, if you mean The Magical Mansion. We are having a party. It's pretty clear and obvious. Isn't it?"
"Why? I mean the party."
"Because of you." Sirius answered. "Every new member gets a party. Um...wait a minute. That reminds me. What is your name? That must have skipped my mind working like a beehive."
"Hazeleus." I answered, my teeth almost clattering.
"Oh nice. Welcome to The Magical Mansion, Hazeleus. You don't know what glory awaits you."
I almost made the move to ask what this glory might be. But instead, I kept quiet and looked around. I felt cold inside, and it did feel like soft rain on the back of a leather seat. Better to shut my mouth, was my guess. And for a moment or so, I thought about what he who had invited me had gone to New Orleans to do. The two of us had just left the train, and had just exchanged minute pleasantries while enroute. I mean, how could he? Okay, maybe I get the point. He's a gypsy. But...well, forget it. I will tell him when I see him. He owes me a quarter of an explanation. Just while I was in my thoughts, two women walked up to me.
"Hi, newcomer." the beautiful woman said. "We've been waiting."
"Waiting?" I asked.
"Yeah, pretty much so. We've been waiting and counting on you."
"To do what exactly?" I asked.
"Never mind, Hazeleus." one of the women answered. "Come with us."
I wanted to ask how she got my name, but I chose a different path.
"Um, I have a confession to make."
"What exactly, Hazeleus?" the sexiest of the ladies asked, her hips throbbing heavily with every step. "We'd love to hear it."
"I feel like I'm dreaming."
"No, Hazeleus. You are not. I know how it feels anyways. But this is real. You are in The Magical Mansion. Part of the benefit of being a member is that you get access to Potions Incorporated, a prestigious institution for learners of magic."
"And...um...the...flowers?"
"It's symbolic. Keep them." she said. "You will need them in the Fairmount meeting in San Francisco. Consider it an honour that time-bending Sirius chose to be the one to welcome you. Ours is a world of magic and wonders. You have special blood."
I almost wanted to say 'Special what?', but I did a U-turn in my head and said a different thing: "I was just on my own, a simple guy dreaming about nothing at all. Just on my own when I received the black-eyed envelope on Subway 1-9-X. I just hope this whole strange stuff is not a mistake."
"No, Hazeleus. No one makes a mistake in The Magical Mansion." the sexiest woman said and turned to grab my waist. "You? You have a sui generis mind. That's what we scout for. You have a raw talent. You are special. Most special people don't know they are. So was Sirius when he came to us. He didn't know he could bend time. Now he's our go-to when we need to live in the moment for a little longer." She stopped and abruptly kissed my lips. "Follow me, Hazeleus."
Confused, if that's the word right here, I followed – turning wide-eyed to observe the dancers.
***
"Listen well." the woman said, making me sit in a room where the noise from the party had minimal effect. "We don't follow the herd mind, and we don't like hypocrites. All members are expected to follow a simple code of conduct. Look at the madness in the world out there, that's what we don't want to replicate. Many folks have their madness hidden in different things – politics, revolution, religion – and we don't accommodate the irrational. We are open-minded. Potions Incorporated teaches you how to make rational decisions while applying magic. The consequences of your actions are yours. There are no fetters, the only limitation is your mind. The ritual here is simple."
"What's the ritual?" I asked.
"It's simple." she said. "Always show up for meetings. That's all. Members are expected to show up with ideas for inventions. There's a hall of fame in the Inventors' Club – down the corridor to the left of Exme – and young Sirius has a foot in there. We can't wait to test his masterpiece. And he's part of the engineering team that spends 520 hours each year building, lighting and outfitting a life-sized mammoth in the eastside lobby. We are a hands-on-deck collective. We don't peddle in gory affairs. We sell our ideas to the outside world. No blood, no organ requests. The only thing we feed on is ideas. And as a benefit, you get a monthly stipend. And one of the rules is never tell anyone about the existence of The Magical Mansion as a way to induce interest. We only invite those we adjudge to be with the right mind. So, tell me, are you ready to meet the rest of us?"
Frankly, I was lost in thoughts now – thinking deeply about everything. Then she tapped my head lightly. "Hazeleus, are you here?"
Where else could I be? "Yeah?! Of course!" I answered.
"So, are you with us?"
"Oh, sure!" I blurted out, looking around before I got led back to the party where I could swear I got a thousand times dizzy.
***
And just when the party was over – that is if you consider that a minus – I got introduced by what looked like a bogeyman. He was simply all furs and fierce, his eyes darting from one corner to another as he talked into the microphone.
"So one of us scotsmen," he began to say. "Found someone at the subway. Today, he's found us. Which makes us all more alive."
What? I mean, what's that shit about making them feel more alive?
"And so he's here. What absolute goodness! He's Hazeleus. Welcome to The Magical Mansion, Hazeleus. We are very happy to have you here. You need sunshine, magic and angels."
The two women sitting on each of my sides rubbed my leg gently and nudged me to the bogey. Okay, enough of that bogey stuff. His name's Falkenstone. And he's the current president. So I counted my steps as I walked to the podium. Some people in front had suddenly started to make doves out of thin air. Doves of all kinds flying all over the place. I swallowed hard as I reached the podium. The bogeyman (okay, Falkenstone) put the microphone in my mouth.
"Say something," he said.
Say what exactly? That I wish I was never here? No. So I thought for a few seconds about a gambit. And that was when the right lines came:
"Thank you, everyone." I said. "I mean, it's my first time in a magical mansion. You already know, my name's Hazeleus. And I'm hoping to learn the...you know, magic, that makes everyone thick around here. Thank you."
With that line, I saved the day – shunning the thought telling me to say: 'What the fuck? Can somebody show me the door outta this place?'
Frankly, that party is the reason I don't fancy parties. At least, anymore. Whenever it was I made that dyed-in-the-wool decision!
So, afterwards – a little while later – I got quizzed by a podgy man spinning rabbits out of a loop. And, seriously, I can't explain how I aced the crazy test – which, actually, is the reason I made it to Potions. I took The Magical Mansion membership card and got led away by Sirius and a beautiful enchantress named Opeliusa. And that, my friends, was how my journey began as a magician extraordinaire.
***
So, back to where we left off. Back to Sirius and I again. Back to his "jabberwocky" tale about a place called Papauski. Back to his stories about ships and nautical miles off the coast of Antigua. Back to whatever shitty stuff he has to regale me with whenever it is time for us to hang out in the recreational bubble called Futena. So each day after school, I'd show up at Potions – learning magic and listening to Sirius and his wild tales. At least, it was better than anything related to attending to customers at Starbucks. Yeah! And even though I was a bit older than Sirius, I took him as a master. And frankly, I have never seen a lad with such precocious ability. Again, even though I had a master assigned to me from Day One I had enough deference for Sirius that I agreed I had not one but two masters at a time. And with the help of Sirius, I learnt how to wave a wand faster than Master Zuki expected. Those moments were indeed the best moments of my life. I began to feel special. And within the next few months, I had learnt enough spells to be able to escape mirror simulations and minor misfortunes at school. But yet – and with great sorrow – I was yet to meet the one who gave me the envelope.
***
So one day, I picked up a telephone in The Magical Mansion and dialled a number I found in a notebook with the words 'I Miss The Blue Eyes'.
I dialled 100-155, and waited. This was to be my first ever call in the mansion. And as I was making the call, I realised there was a mini yellow dress on the wall. A gown of sorts. Even for someone of average height, it would be too short.
"Hello." a voice came. "It's Dr. Helen O'Sullivan. Hope the weather today is fine wherever you are. It's fine here. If it's for red roses, press 1. If it's for white roses, press 2. If it's for something else you'd like to discuss, press 9."
I kept quiet, not sure I should make a choice. Then the voice came again: "There is no hideout for the black widow when the fields are cleared. J-11 Summer Break is approaching. Buy your magical shoes before the inevitable hike. For shoes with wings of a sparrow, press 3. For stilettos with the wings of a cuckoo, press 4. For boots with the wings of swallowtail butterflies, press 100."
At this instance, I hung up and fled at the sound of laughter and footsteps.
***
Thanks to Sirius, I realised Potions Inc. is home to soul-sucking ghouls. A mistake in the right regulation of the use of spells would inadvertently open these unlovable beings into the world. That sole duty to secure rests in the hands of a fellow called The Wandering Third Eye. The beast knows every law governing the use of extraterrestrial magic, and has sworn an oath to protect them with his might and life. Overall, my association with Sirius bore more fruit. When sometimes exams were quite tough – let's consider Physics here – I'd employ the services of Sirius who'd make time slow down till everyone a student had submitted. And those were my glory days in school, as I had time to impress the most difficult of tutors Adonai ever had. And that was how my school started The Beautiful Project to reward outstanding elucidation. I was a perennial A-list student, not because of time-bending. But because I had always been and just needed enough time to reach my peak and full potential. Other students as well benefitted from this time-bending. One instance is the slow-learner Beatrice having all As when she had never made it past a C. So, in a nutshell, time-bending saved the seemingly damned. Oh, sorry Bea. You get the point. And thanks to The Magical Mansion, I'm rich as...oh, no swear words here. But you get the point. It was generally a happy life for me. But one thing's still missing. And that's the fact that I'm yet to meet the gypsy who changed my life.
***
So finally, one day, Sirius finished his invention and set the magical world on fire. But not just the magical world, the entire existing world. He has produced a gadget that travels faster than the speed of light, and has been able to take mankind to realms beyond this galaxy. That sounds pretty damn thrilling, I guess. And I'm so sure he could get a Nobel nod someday. I have no doubts at all. But right now, I'm bothered I have to make another stop at San Francisco or Milwaukee to find the gypsy who they say is on self-exile. Life's the greatest bully of all, but I ain't giving up. My foster home would be proud. That's right. It's general goodness everywhere. And the taste of laughter sits at the edge of my tongue. But I have to find my benefactor though. So until then, diary, it's goodbye. And what about Sirius's Papauski? He says he's ready to take me there someday.
Bio:
Marvel Chukwudi Pephel, also known as Poet Panda, is a Nigerian biochemist, writer and poet. He has contributed research papers to the field of Biochemistry as Nwachukwu Godslove Pephel. As a poet, Pephel's work explores themes of love, life, nature, and social issues, with a unique blend of creativity and scientific insight. His poetry is characterized by its lyrical style, depth, and emotional resonance. His work is a testament to the intersection of art and science. He is a fan of the surrealist painter Salvador Dali, and writers Helen Oyeyemi, Ray Bradbury, Irving Washington, Edgar Allan Poe, Frank G. Slaughter and Philip K. Dick. He calculates what he calls "Creative Functions", an experimental but effective way of writing short story endings before their beginnings.