Depression And Other Magic Tricks Novels & Stories

After my wife, April Carter, gives birth to my child, I'm forced to quit my job and become a full-time stay-at-home dad. Before long, I spiral into severe depression. Countless times, I press a knife to my wrist, only for her to desperately throw her arms around me as I break down in hysterics. "Don't do this! Think about the baby and me! We're right here with you!" My brother, Lucas Getz, and my best buddy, Thomas Balfour, each grab a knife and press it against their own wrists. "If you want to die, we'll die with you," they declare. "Are two lives enough for you?" After that day, I fully commit to my treatment, determined not to let anyone else get hurt because of me. But just when I

Marlowe scanned the brittle pages, old accounts written in careful, formal script describing Duskmere practitioners across several generations — their considerable skill, and, with increasing frequency in the later entries, their considerable suffering. "Sustained use left several practitioners with what the records call 'fraying' — memory loss, emotional instability, in the most severe documented cases, complete dissolution of the practitioner's own magical signature," Professor Winthrop said, watching Marlowe absorb the information. "The magic doesn't distinguish easily between what you intend to unmake and what simply happens to be nearby when your control slips. Emotional distress appear

Dike requested that he be in the middle of the line so that those behind him can hold him from falling out of their given path. Emeka’s mouth can clearly show some whitish stuff that is stained from the milk he just took. The milk is said to nullify the effect of spells and poisons and it was administered to Emeka so that he could recover from the effect of his earlier encounter in the land of ‘Don’t look up’. The impact on his health was nothing compared to the fact that he just became the first person to see the un-seeable and lived. His achievement may lead to a chieftaincy title as the first to see the un-seeable. The use of mirrors was also established as a means of seeing these strange

Irina was amazed, looking at her dress. “Let me see your bleeding hands.” Lucas closed the gap between them. He didn’t need to do anything with her face as the slapping mark had already gone. “Wow…” Irina impressed, looking at her clean hands. “I’m healed.” Smiling weakly, Lucas didn’t dare telling her that her wound healed itself and he did nothing about it but cleaned the blood stain. “I knew it.” Irina exclaimed. “Magic is amazing thing.” Lucas smile turned weaker. “Speaking of magic, why don’t you or Master Nieal scare of me? Why not have me burnt like stories I heard about magic users?”

After all, every fairy was capable of this ‘trick’. “And don’t call it a magic trick. It’s Elemental Conversion” Hildegarde said in an attempt to correct Mane, but without much conviction. “Looks like a phony magic trick to me,” Mane said. His words and expression showed why Hildegarde’s attempt to correct him was lacking in faith. After all, when you’ve had the same conversion so many times already, you know the end results of each statement.

It was getting serious by the day. I drove my focus to the cracked mirror, I kept mumbling slowly, my gaze and utmost focus on the cracked lines. I concentrated, I pulled my hands up in the air, my lips moving fervently as I desperately tried to use whatever magic in me to have it fixed back and looking anew. After several minutes of trials, I groaned in desperation. Frustration and impatience, becoming a plight of mine. I still couldn't understand what has been happening to me this past days. Ever since that day, I discovered I still have what little left of magic pulsing through my veins. It's dormant, but it's there. I've tried even the most basic spell, but it doesn't work. I clinched my

I am paralyzed with nervousness. “You know…. If I was drunk, blind, and desperate… I might think about it.” He smirks, lifting away to laugh at me, breaking the captive hold he has over me with his eerie dark magic, and it’s like a sucker punch in the stomach. An insult I never knew could be such a sober slap. He looks so satisfied with my reaction to him, and I know that jerk just played me.

Meditation was his way of getting out all that anger in him “We have to find a way out of there and your meditation is not helping with that” Damian said to him “Who says it is not helping? It just depends on who it’s helping. One thing about magic is that it always has a loophole. Magic is not perfect especially the bad ones. There is something we are taking our focus off and that is exactly why we are still trapped here” Alex said, not opening his eyes and still taking deep breaths, trying to stay sane in whatever chaos was going on but Damian was losing his mind already

"It's just these eyes. I need the glasses for the close up stuff." I laughed, eyeing Troy. "Part of the old man syndrome, huh?" "Right." Pops flipped the pages until he reached what he was looking for. The top of the left page read: A Spell to Break Spells. "Your magic won't work down here," Laeddin said. "I've already tried." Pops looked at Laeddin over the top of his glasses. "You sure?" Laeddin snapped his fingers in answer. I hoped it would work for the briefest second, but that hope was dashed. Laeddin's tattoos tried to light up, but they only flickered.

“Not ever.” Her tone was so desolate that it brought a lump to my throat. “Maybe you just need practice,” I said. “You just need to learn how to control your thoughts.” “No.” Loretta raised her arm to show me her stump. Her breath already smelled of alcohol. “I’m no good at it. It’s just like I was told ever since I got turned. I always knew, really . . . just didn’t want to believe it. Because they were right, weren’t they? It’s a bad idea for us to do magic.”