Misspelled and mismanaged

Some say magic is finite. That it was brought into being when the world was created and there is no more and no less then that level. Other say that when magic dies it is reborn in a different way. Not better or worse, just different. But I know they are all wrong. I am magic an magic is me.

Jack Stevens had an every day life. Blonde, tall, rather thin. He always had the same grungy flannel and jeans out fit. His parents begged him to change it, but that was a long time ago. Now Jack spent his time working at a convenience store during the night. He always hoped he could save up enough money for some schooling. But, for those just above the fringe a stable job was more then enough. But, Jack didn't think so. He would mop and wonder how he could change the world. Young men often try to effect the world in their own way, to leave a mark of their existence. For those with the right connections and enough money that task is easily achievable. For other it is a different matter all together.
"careful where your mopping son!" Jack looked up from his day dreaming at the elderly man that walked into the store. They always seemed to come in ten minutes to close and full of anger at the younger generations. Mr. Morgan was no exception. "And what do I keep telling you Jack?"
"I don't know what do you keep telling me Mr. Morgan?"
"That it is best to wait for this kind of tasks until everyone has left."
"I just wanted to get an early start so I could get home a little sooner." Jack said this while looking at his laces. He wasn't intimidated by Mr. Morgan but he knew the old man would appreciate it more if he had something to complain about. Sure enough a soft smile cracked Mr. Morgan's cracked face. "Listen, Jack, there is all the time in the world for someone as young as you. Who knows, perhaps something will come along a change your life forever."
Jack hoped he was talking about romance and passion. He did more then his fare share of staring and stuttering and felt that any kind of change would be a good change. There was this particular girl, Julia, flowing auburn hair and always smartly dressed. But, that was another unreachable dream. He was stuck where he was. It wasn't until Mr. Morgan cleared his throat that Jack looked up to realized the mop water was getting all over Mr. Morgan's shoes. "Sorry, about that, really, I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about, it happens, just keep your mind focused, patience. You will change the world one day."
Jack look after him as Mr. Morgan walked up the the counter to by his straits or "death torpedoes" as Mr. Morgan liked to call them. Patience, ha, that's laughable. Nothing is going to change, Jack thought as he finished mopping. At least I don't think anything will change. ______________________________________________
Jack got up the next day with an ache in his back from mopping and an ache in his libido. He didn't really care about his own dreams, that even if he could make somebody else's life better it was worth it you know. He told this to Rebecca as he got his coffee over on third and Grand. "I know it's a hopeless case, but some kind of change would be good." Rebecca merely smiled at him warmly.
She had vibrant blue eyes, the kind you could get lost in if you didn't catch yourself and the kind of softness that would melt a lions heart. Which, incidentally, she bore a striking resemblance to. He once blonde hair was died pitch black, except around the edges and bangs which were blood red. People said that eye brow and lip pircing were unnerving but Jack liked them. They brought here down to his level and besides who wants to be associated with a hypocritical class. They looked down on her and she didn't seem to care one bit. She just went about her business and didn't mind the looks. The stalker she could do without but being pieced, tattooed and defiant didn't mean she was easy, just determined to know who you where,and not what golf club you had a membership to. Jack always thought that was a bit noble and kind of fetching.
" I don't know why you are feeling so down about this." She said patting his arm. Jack felt a shiver go up his arm and down his spine. Rebecca obvious sensed this and retreated to behind her counter. "One day you will make a big impression, wait and see."
"How?" Jack said to his cup of coffee as it merely sat there getting colder. Black as the night he surrounded himself in. Rebecca looked up from whipping the counter and looked at him earnestly, sizing him up. "You will make somebody's dream come true."
"Yeah," Jack chuckled lightly, "and who's dream is that." There was a pause as Rebecca thought about this for a while. "I don't know, but you will know it when you meet them."This encouragement is why Jack came here, it warmed him up the way coffee never could. A mischievous smile crossed his face as he looked up at her. "Well then, what is your dream?"
"Acting," she said bluntly and when off to help a newly arrived customer.
Jack sat a moment staring at his coffee which was completely cold and tasteless, which did help it. No matter how he looked at it, Macedonian Almond Deluxe wasn't a name for a cup of coffee, It would better suit a combo band, some sort of emo thing. Jack chuckled to himself picturing the part goth, part punk, part Christen pop group as they say sang their number one title, "I'm nuts for the Lord." Jack dumped the coffee in the trash and was about to walk out the door when Rebecca called to him. "Jack, I'm serious, if you know any connections, let me know.""Will do," and Jack gave a little wave as he left thinking if he had any connections why in the hell would he still be working at the gas station.
As the door shut Rebecca looked down at the sizable tip Jack often left either out of interest or apathy. She didn't know why she never just gave Jack her number, she never felt he had eyes for her. I could try though, she thought. It wouldn't hurt to try, next time. Rebecca walked acrossed to the counter and turned up the light music station.
"We are all in a shell.
just waiting,
waiting to be cracked.
Uuuuh, uuuh, uuuh.
And we don't ever
wanta go back.
Uuuuh, uuuh, uuuh.
'Cause we're Nutts
Nutts for The Lord."

Tainted Hearts in a Glass City

"Out of my way freak!"
Jack suddenly found him self falling toward the ground and then felt it coiled with him
as his books scattered along the length of the hall. People looked now, they looked nervous and
concerned. Halfway between joy and fear they laughed tentatively, waiting for Jack to react. But
he didn't, he never reacted. Jack didn't allow them to get a rise out of him. Their tricks were
getting old now that they were in high school. He was used to the sneering, the ridicule and
pranks. They always called him freak, weirdo or any number of expletives they could think of.
People scattered around him now, none offering assistance. Jack gathered up the rest of his books and straitened up. He was tall for his age, about 5'7" but not nearly tall enough. He was thin, not from malnourishment but from his high metabolism. He never could keep any thing on him but never really tried that hard. He adjusted his glasses, got a better grip on his books and
continued to class.

He was nearly at the door when the bell rang. "Mr. Thompson, your late again." A cold
voice echoed from the front of the room as the door shut with a slight slam. "One would think
you might be as sensible to arrive on time to my class, like the rest of your little friends." An
unmistakable sneer crossed Mr. Guthrie's lips. A look came into his eyes, cold satisfaction.
The general class that had been snickering now fell into a hush, as if Mr. Guthrie's eyes
commanded it through sear force of will. "Now, Mr. Thompson, I will ask you to take your seat only once.. MOVE BOY!"

Jack crossed the room quickly and sat down next to the window. His eyes now following
Mr. Guthrie's hands as they moved about during the lecture, yet his mind was elsewhere. People were often nervous around him and the sensible people were careful to tread lightly. They all looked at him, like a bomb ready to go off. His teachers, classmates and even his parents were sure to give him a wide birth, but one that was unwelcome like that given to a smelly dog. It's not that he didn't know why it just seemed like such a stupid thing. His grandfather was clinically insane. One day he started to shouting about dangerous monsters and the townsfolk got concerned. Jack didn't know much about what happened to his grandfather, only that he died
sometime after that.
Jack wasn't proud of his family, but his grandfather at least had some imagination. His
parents were about as serious as they could come. His father was a public relations director for
Donaldson & co., a very large conglomerate in the area. While his mother was a case worker for
the Dashwood County board of child wellness. There was nothing that involved imagination or
creativity at his house. Well, except his sister. Jenny went to college out of state, Deer
Creak Tech. She was a music major and about the only person Jack could talk to after he was
eight. It was about that time he begin to see them. They were at the park, in the woods and at
the docks, they loved the docks. Shapes, vague shapes of something that should be human but
weren't quite loomed just beyond his field of vision. He told his parents he saw these shapes and
they ignored him. But he wasn't making it up then and he certainly wasn't making it up now.
Everyone just assumed he slipped like his grandpa, but he can still see them and no
matter what everyone else said or how they scoffed the amorphi were still there. If there was
any truth in this world it was that and that alone was enough to sustain Jack through the thick
of it. He just wondered why, sometimes. "Mr. Thompson!" Jack shook his head a little and looked
up quizzically. "I am sorry, Mr. Thompson, if you do not find my warning concerning enough..."
"What warning?"
"The warning," Mr. Guthrie snarled. "That I was giving to the rest of your classmates who had at least enough brains to pay attention to know that mid-level graduation assessments are in two
weeks."
Jack held his breath, waiting for Mr. Guthrie to continue but he just stared back. The two were
engaged in the fiercest of contest when the bell rang.

"Please do not forget that the assessments will be one of the key factors in determining what
kind of college you get into and therefore stands as the door way for your entire future." Mr.
Guthrie did not move as he said this the rest of the class packed their things hastily and left,
though a few waited outside of the door to see what would happen. Mr. Guthrie's eyes fell back
to Jack. "I expect at least a pass from you, do not make me look bad." And with a turn he was
gone and off to the staff room.
Jack sighed in relief, another day done.

Profound chatter

First and foremost it has been a long time all and I am glad to streach my legs and get back in the "pool of the masses." I was instructed to add to my site and in obliging find my self perturbed by my lack of efficient thought. It's not that I didn't have ideas before, no I had them and they were revolutionary. They would have changed the world I say, but now they are lost between the infinite "I am" and the vast nothingness, right next to the socks I keep losing in the dryer. I have restarted Utopia and am very pleased with the result. For those of you who do not know, utopia is an online, text, real-time, strat game. Though I did get called a philosopher, "The dilutions of a leader are not worth criticizing when the apathy of those effected and represented is overwhelming." It's funny when real-time strat games reflect the current political climate. But this is not sufficent when it come to metionable tales. Perhaps in the after math of a catoclismic revolatoin, the words don't hold as much meaning as they once did. Or just maybe it was always insoficient and I just didn't notice. More tales to come