-In the last installment, Owen had been committed to a mental hospital where he met his case-worker Maggy whom he suspects knows about magic-
Owen followed the white-walled, green-floored corridor towards the meeting room. He had been told at breakfast that his case-worker would be coming in to discuss his future, whatever that meant. At least, he thought, someone would be coming to see him. In the week since he had been admitted his parents had only visited once, each on separate days.
They had both asked if it was because of their divorce, if he was trying to get more attention from them. After a while, they had gotten angry, telling him that he should not try to make their separation about him.
Owen had found that amusing, in a painful way. It was like when someone accidentally kicked a football into your stomach, you felt sick and winded, but there was a funny side to it. As far as he was concerned, it was they who were trying to make his delusions or experiences, whichever it was, about them.
“Good afternoon, dear. How are you today?”
And there was Maggy. She had happiness and sad concern written all over her face beneath the short curls of dyed-bronze hair. But today there was someone else with her. She was a tall woman, thin as a reed with a severe expression and a pair of angular spectacles pushed back into the bridge of her nose. The pair could not have looked more different.
Owen stood in the doorway to the hospital meeting room, eyeing Maggy’s companion warily. He thought she might be a new doctor, come to ask him inane questions about his feelings or whether he thought dragons were real.
“Oh, where are my manners?” Maggy said. “This is Silvia Oakwood. Silvia, this is the young man I was telling you about.”
Mumbling something incoherent which could have been a greeting, Owen walked up to the table and took a seat in front of the two women. Silvia Oakwood gave a valiant attempt at a smile, wrinkling the corners of her eyes and raising her top lip. It was a gruesome sight.
“I hear you have a very interesting pocket watch, Owen. Could I see it?” She asked.
It seemed to Owen that the trinket was all anyone was interested in. Maev would never have talked to him if he did not have it, the stranger in the antiques shop had tried to steal it and now his case-worker seemed to have some sort of obsession with it. Owen decided it was time for someone to take notice of him.
He stood up sharply, letting his chair clatter to the floor behind him. Maggy’s eyes widened and her lips parted slightly in surprise, but Silvia Oakwood only made a face like he had made a bad smell.
Owen yanked the watch out of his pocket and hurled it out through the open window. Then he raised his left hand and stuck out his middle finger to them.
A loud crack ripped through the air around them and, as though it were made of sand, the outer wall of the hospital crumbled away before their eyes.
You can find another fantasy short story Worldkiller here.
Have you read my e-book yet? It’s here on Amazon Kindle.