Apologies, it has been quite a long time since the previous chapter. Life and other projects were taking up most of my time, but I plan to begin regularly releasing chapters each Thursday.
If you need to catch up on what has happened so far, here are links to chapters 1 and 2:
https://steemit.com/fiction/@stormthegates/we-was-wizards-chapter-1-novella
https://steemit.com/writing/@stormthegates/we-was-wizards-chapter-2
3
A bus. We took a goddamn-mufuckin bus to a grimy ass barber shop some blocks down, between a closed gun store and a boarded-up liquor store. There was a homeless nigga standing outside, drinkin’ from a brown paper bag. He smelled like he piss.
“Let me guess, this place is supposed to look like shit because it’s a front?” I asked, smirkin’ at the old man.
“Don’t judge a book by its cover, Daniel.” he answered. Corny ass.
As we walked through the door, I was surprised to see that it looked completely different on the inside. It was well lit, brand new floors and fresh paint and whatnot. Not just clean, son, emaculate…
Nah, I’m just playin’, it was a shithole. Dirty as fuck, with half the windows broken and only some of them covered with newspaper or old wood. Hair all over the mufucka, like it ain’t been swept or dusted once. By the look of them razors, half the niggas who went in there probably got tetanus.
The place was empty, and the one workin’ lightbulb flickered occasionally.
“Alright, old man, show me this fake scroll so we can skip to the part where I tell you to fuck off.” I tapped my foot so the fool would know to hurry up.
Rufus dug through a set of metal drawers in the corner. At a real barber shop, they woulda been full of supplies, like clippers and blue juice and shit, but instead he was flingin’ empty blunt wrappers and dried up tobacco on the floor. Occasionally an old newspaper or bent magazine would fly out.
Suddenly he shot up, holding an old, brown piece of paper over his head. “I’ve found it!” he called out, before turnin’ around and layin’ it out in his hands so I could see it. It was worn, with some language I’d never seen before scribbled on it in blue ink.
“Yeah nigga, when I was in middle school we also did that thing with the iodine, too. I gotta hand it to you, though, it don’t look as phony as I was expectin’.” I snickered at him.
The old man reached into his robe and pulled out a pair of readin' glasses. He slid them on and began, dragging a finger across the scroll, mouthing as he went along. I would later learn that scrolls do they thing when you read them, but I guess he was doin’ it for dramatic effect or something.
Then, out of nowhere, the world became… sepia. Like an old photo, or an Instagram filter or some shit. I wasn’t in the barber shop anymore, I was standin’ on a stone platform in the desert. There was a pool with palm trees and a pyramid off in the distance. Even though everythin’ was almost the same color, I could see clearly.
I’m not fuckin’ with you this time, this actually happened. As I turned and looked around I noticed that there was this tall nigga watching me.
He was dressed in some crazy shit. He had this shirt that only covered his chest, and like a loin cloth—but, he was flossin'! Dude had big, gold earrings, Mr. T lookin’ necklaces, and a bunch of rings on—plus he was carryin’ a baller ass staff with a head like a cobra. He had wild hair, a thick, well-trimmed beard, and dark skin.
“Greetings young master. I suppose you are here to learn.” The man’s voice boomed.
I’m not gonna lie, I wasn’t ready for this shit. “What? What’s goin' on?” I asked.
The man took another step toward me. “Magic, boy. The old man told me you were ready to begin your lessons.”
“Ready? Niggas can’t do magic.”
The man looked irritated, but composed. “I do not understand. What are you talking about?”
“I’m not a mage. I wasn't born with magic.” I explained.
He tapped his foot impatiently. “The entitlement. So, you did not come out of the womb casting spells! You think you are above honest effort?”
“What?” It was my turn to be confused. “I thought you were either born with magic or not. I didn’t think it was something you could just learn.”
“Of course you can, boy. It is true that when two magic users conceive, their child inherits some of their abilities. But the Wizards, the first mages, were born without magic. They had to awaken their powers by effort and experimentation!” He replied.
“Hold up,” I stuttered, “You’re tellin’ me that not only can niggas use magic, but we invented it?”
“Discovered would be more accurate, but yes.” He answered.
My mind was swimmin’. I was stunned, upset, and excited for the future all at the same time. I looked the man in the eye and told him, “I’m ready. You asked me if I was ready to learn magic, and I am.”
The man looked me over carefully, judging me. It took him a while to respond, but eventually he said “No, I think not.”
