Inkwar (continued)

by Obi in London

I'm really into writing this story so I've decided to write loads more and post a bit of it, you maybe suprised of what you find!

Hammy willed the skeletal preteen to life, and then gradually a figure faded into existence beside Hamlet’s desk. The skeletal boy turned his head in Hamlet’s direction and stared at him through his hollow sockets. The holes were his eyes were like an abyss, they were so dark and so dead…………
“Hey, Kid what’s my name again?” asked the skeletal boy in an African American accent.
“Harlem,” replied Hamlet a little startled by the skeleton, “sorry, I must have forgot to put your name in.”
“Not a bad name Kid,” replied the skeleton, “and not a bad imagination by the looks of me!”
“Thanks, I guess,” said Hamlet unsurely.
“So Kid, do I like have a power or somethin’ like that?” asked the skeletal figure hopefully.

“Err, well you can shoot blue fire but for the love of God don’t use it in the hou-,” warned Hamlet but it was to late, Harlem already had a ocean blue ball of fire in the palm of his hand.

“Stop,” said Hamlet in a voice that wasn’t his own.

Harlem’s fireball vanished into smoke, “How d’you do that?” asked Harlem a little annoyed at being stopped.

“You,” shouted Hamlet, “ask to many questions, now back in the book you go.” Hamlet used the voice again, it was a bit scary and if voices had tasted this one tasted like poison with a side dish of ice cubes.

“Hammy, stop yelling at yourself and come down for dinner,” shouted Hamlet’s mother loudly, her voice was tinted with a German accent.

“Coming!” shouted Hamlet as he ran down the wooden stairs.

It was pork pie for dinner that evening, and in Germany when they made pork pie they got all the pork they could fit in! The huge pie was fraught with sausages, pork chops, bacon, gammon and Hamlet’s least favourite part pig liver. Hamlet’s mother, Bella cut Hamlet a huge slice that was still steaming and smelled heavenly.

“Is Paris back yet?” asked Hamlet.

“No, I don’t know what is wrong with that boy!” retorted Bella, “It’s like he has some fantastic new hobby, maybe he has a girlfriend or something. Urgh, teens I can never understand them.”

Hammy smiled inwardly to himself, he knew what it was. Paris had a secret, so secret that Hamlet couldn’t even speak about in the depths of his thoughts. Paris was Hammy’s fourteen year-old older brother, unlike Hamlet he had long blond hair and fair blue eyes. Yet, Paris still highly resembled Hamlet. Paris arrived home as Hamlet was half way through his dinner, he shook the rain of his blond hair and took off his baggy leather sports jacket.

“Paris wherever have you been?!” shouted Bella.
“Out,” replied Paris plainly and began to go up the stairs.
“ Aren’t you going to have dinner Angel,” Bella always called Paris Angel because of his Angelic looks.
“I had some chips from McDonalds,”
“You’ll get fat Angel!” cried Bella warningly.
“Whatever,” reacted Paris blankly.

Hamlet stuffed the rest of the pie into his gullet and ran after Paris. Paris was upstairs playing a beautiful Blues piece on his electric guitar. Hamlet rushed in grinning like a Cheshire Cat.
“So how was it?” asked Hamlet gleefully.
“ How was what, Ham,” snapped Paris back turning up the volume on his amp.
“You know…..” said Hamlet but Paris held his lips fast, “Flying!”
“Shut up squirt,” shouted Paris, “you don’t know what your dealing with!”
“Yeah but I have also have a p-” tried hamlet but he was cut short by Paris slamming the door in his face.

THUD! That was the sound of another failed attempt to tell Paris about his powers and another failed attempt to discuss Paris’s powers. Hamlet returned to his room and shut the door behind him. He got out his journal and his Inkbox and started drawing a human girl, with cherry blond hair that was really pale ginger and warm ochre eyes. He wrote a title at the top, Milly. And then he began to write.

Milly is ten and just like me, her best friend is Hamlet. She goes to Hamlet’s school Lynn Academy. She like Hamlet has a special power, she can move things with her mind. Milly is a good artist and writer like Hamlet and is pretty with pale ginger hair and gold sandy eyes. She has a great personality and doesn’t use her powers for hate but only to protect and in light mischief.

And she was real!

He willed Milly to life. He willed harder and harder but she wouldn’t appear. Hamlet sulked in the dismal depths of his aching mind. He looked out on the wet grass and watched it shimmer like stars, he looked at himself in the cool, clear puddles in the depressions of the hill. The puddles were like mirrors and his face looked like thunder, it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. He opened his journal and willed the Coke into existence again, he picked it up and washed his troubles down his throat along with the glorious bubbly elixir.

He didn’t bother to change out of his uniform, he just turned of the lights and jumped into bed and slept soundlessly.

Light flooded the room slowly and elegantly like golden syrup, it awoke Hamlet with its pale waking glare. Hamlet groggily woke up and slipped on his school uniform. His brother was hogging the bathroom so he went to the window in the hallway and looked over the little town of Lynn. Lynn was a small town outside London set at the foot of Morgan Hill. Paris finally relinquished his control of the bathroom and let Hamlet go in. Hamlet brushed his teeth and washed his face and flossed. His mood was dank and darkened, and he was still tired. He made his way downstairs to the kitchen were his mother had made him freshly baked croissants with home made orange juice and a little side dish of pomegranate. Hamlet smiled, Bella’s cooking was the best and this was just breakfast.
“Paris do you need a ride to school?” asked Rio in-between mouthfuls of croissant.
“Nah,” replied Paris.
“But you’ll be late,”
“It’s OK Dad, I won’t,” responded Paris mysteriously.

Hamlet knew automatically what Paris was going to do. He finished his croissant in a hurry and dashed upstairs. He checked in his book fore something…….
YES! He had it, a giant white bird he could fly on to keep up with Paris. He summoned it and it appeared in the garden. As Paris walked out onto the front drive , Hamlet sneaked out to. Hamlet gasped as immaculate white angel wings protruded from Paris’s back. Hamlet whistled and the white bird flew to his aid and swept under him and carried him off after Paris!
“Hey!” yelled Hamlet cheerfully.
“Oh my gosh!” gasped Paris, “Were did you get that thing!”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, I can draw and write things and make them come to life,” yelled Hamlet.
“Oh,” said Paris.

They flew silently for while, the rush of the air was loud as it rushed passed their ears and it was hard to talk. Paris flew in a different direction to go to his school and hamlet landed near his school. He willed the bird to return to his journal . The bird turned to white mist and was sucked into his bag, back into the journal. Hamlet approached the school gates and joined the trickle of students flooding through into the playground. The puddles of rain still lingered in the dips and potholes of the concrete, but the sun was out shining and its rays refracted brilliantly of the cool, clear puddles.

Hamlet turned at the call of his name and was surprised to be greeted by the sight of Milly, from his journal.
“Hi,” gasped Hamlet breathlessly.
“Hey,” she giggled, “why are you staring?”
“Err, no reason,” replied Hamlet hastily, “just I thought you didn’t become real….”
“Of course I did silly,” she explained, “but I’m not really gonna come to the same house am I. I’m your friend not your sister!”
“Yeah, I knew that,” muttered Hamlet embarrassedly.
“Soooo,” said Milly coolly, “What d’you want to do now.”
“Err….well….. can I see your powers!” asked Hamlet excitedly.
“Yeah,” she said, “when the time comes.”

She shook her pale ginger hair and walked into the school building as the bell clanged out like a klaxon. Hamlet hesitated then followed her indoors, luckily for Hamlet they were in the same class. Unluckily first period was French and for French they had Madame Bordeaux. Madame Bordeaux was the most loud, raucous, strict, angry, psychotic, hellish, sadistic teacher in the whole school. Her eyes were hellish amber but glinted red like Satan’s horns when you made eye contact, her hair was black and lush yet it had no life, not even maelstrom could move her lifeless locks.

Madame Bordeaux stormed into the room, her eyes aflame and her brow furrowed with hatred for all children.
“Why aren’t your books open!” she screeched in her sharp French twang.
“ b-be-because you said last lesson to wait till you were here to open our b-books,” whimpered a Ferdinand from the back row.
“Nonsense!” she screamed ever louder.
“Watch this,” muttered Milly next to me.

Milly raised her index finger and pointed it at the magenta Parker Pen on the desk. It was Madame’s prize pen. The pen hovered in the air for a few seconds and then threw itself in the bin, and landed almost soundlessly in on top of the heap of papers . Madame reached casually for her pen and was startled to find it wasn’t there, she looked everywhere and took ten minutes of the forty five minute lesson. She then took a whiteboard pen and commenced writing words on the whiteboard. Milly twiddled her finger again and Madame ‘slipped’ and fell flat on her butt.

“Ugh,” she gasped, “all you children will pay for this when I find out what you are doing!”
“Milly, watch this,” sniggered Hamlet.

Hamlet got a piece of paper and drew on it a slightly oversized wasp and willed it to life. The wasp disappeared from the paper and flew in through the open window. The wasp seemed to wink at Hamlet and then glided over to Madame and bounced against her icy cheek. Madame was shocked out of her wits and fled the class screaming as the wasp relentlessly followed her. Milly gave Hamlet a hearty high-five of congratulations. Eventually after a long morning of fun and friendship it was time for lunch. Hamlet’s stomach rumbled like an avalanche, he was so hungry but all they had was those horrid school lunches