The Magi
Two Abandoned Diaries

A slow drizzle fell over a small gray house owned byElijah’s uncle. The uneven beads ofwater collected on the window panes, making the yard outsideunrecognizable. The rain gutters spilledwater onto the ground in steady beats. It was a perfect day. A sadday. A day to sit on the front porchwith a blanket and watch the world become blurry.

Six days had passed since Elijah escaped his house, andalready he was busy. As the rainsprinkled outside, he was inside organizing photographs. His parents’ photographs. He couldn’t quite muster a smile as he found apicture of his mother and father, much younger then, embracing each other. Elijah’s mother held onto her husband and waskissing him on the cheek so hard her nose scrunched. Elijah’s father was laughing. They looked so in love. Happy. Carefree.

Earlier that morning, Elijah’s uncle, named Stan, handedElijah a large box filled with his parents’ possessions. Pictures. Love notes. Keep sakes. Elijah spent most of the morning sortingthrough everything in piles spread across his room. He took his time looking at each item.

“How are you doing?” Uncle Stan interrupted, poking his headthrough the doorway.

“Fine,” Elijah answered flatly. “Just looking through these pictures.”

“I meant how are youdoing?” Uncle Stan replied. “You know,with everything?”

“Oh. I’m okay.” Elijah knew his uncle could see right throughhis lie, but he didn’t feel like talking right now.

Uncle Stan seemed to understand. “Okay. I’ll be in the kitchen. Just letme know when you’re ready for lunch.”

Elijah felt bad. UncleStan just wanted to talk. To have Elijahopen up. Ever since Elijah was sent tolive here, Uncle Stan seemed restless. Uncomfortable. Often, he would hoveraround Elijah, like he wanted to say something comforting, but wouldn’t say aword. On one occasion, Uncle Stan triedto give Elijah a hug, but at the last minute, he paused, frantically lookedaround, and then flipped on a light switch behind Elijah, even though the housewas plenty bright.

Good ol’ Uncle Stan. Elijahappreciated his willingness to listen, but it hadn’t even been a week since thathorrible night. Elijah still needed timeto make sense of things. After all, hislife had just been turned completely upside down.

Six nights ago, Elijah losteverything that ever really mattered to him. His parents, William and Julia Hawk, had been killed. When the police finally talked to Elijah,they told him they found his father dead outside. His mother was found dead halfway up thestairs. Kyria, however, had not beenfound.

Elijah sobbed the entireride to his uncle’s house. He couldn’teven speak. He hoped and prayed hissister was somehow still alive, but three days later, Uncle Stan received aphone call from the police saying Kyria’s bloodstained clothes had washed up onthe shore of a beach, twenty miles from their house. It was over. Final. His entire family wasdead. Elijah spent the rest of the daythrowing up in the bathroom.

Even now, almost a week later, he thought about themconstantly. He felt guilty for nottalking with his mother while he pouted about something as stupid as being too ordinary. He wished he had taken the time to talk withKyria just a little longer. He couldn’teven stay awake long enough for his father to come home. His family’s last night together was wastedwhile he thought about himself. Selfish.

Elijah continued sorting through his parents’ possessions. Uncle Stan had offered to put any extra itemsin storage, so Elijah decided to store everything he didn’t need immediately.

He came across pictures his parents kept from their manyvacations. The Grand Canyon. The Hawaiian Islands. Numerous camping trips where he and Kyriafished and swam in freezing lakes. Heflipped through the pictures one after another, letting the memories flood hisemotions.

He gently ran his fingers over thefaces of each family member as if the flat, glossy material somehow resurrectedthem. The tears came quickly. It felt good to cry. To feel the sadness overwhelm him. To allow his uncontrollable sobs escape hisbody without restraint.

An hour and a half later, Elijah emerged from his roomlooking completely composed. He foundhis uncle in the garage working on his truck.

“Hey there Eli. Youready for some lunch?”

“If that’s not too much trouble.”

“Nope. Just give me asec to finish up and I’ll be right in.”

Elijah went back inside. He inspected himself in the mirror to make sure he showed no evidence ofcrying. All clear. Uncle Stan soon walkedin wiping his dirty hands on a rag.

“What’ll it be today?” Uncle Stan said, rummaging throughthe refrigerator as though he had never looked into it before. He moved items here, then there, mutteringand grunting to himself. The man couldrebuild a car engine, but apparently the refrigerator was a complete mystery. “How about sandwiches?”

“Sounds good.” Elijahhad to laugh inside. Every day they hadsandwiches for lunch. He wondered whyUncle Stan wasted his time looking through the fridge. It was always sandwiches for lunch and somekind of takeout for dinner—usually pizza. But Elijah didn’t mind. It waskind of fun to eat junk for a while.

Uncle Stan looked like a ranch hand. He was tall, fit, and always needed a shave. He never had a family of his own, so he spentlots of time with Elijah’s family. Hewas unpredictable and a bit of a flake, but he always made sure to includeElijah, even when other adults were around. Uncle Stan was different, and Elijah was thankful he was sent to livewith him.

“Here you go. Bonappétit.” Uncle Stan handed Elijah a hamand turkey sandwich on a plate with some potato chips. He even tried to put the chips in a nicearrangement, maybe to make it seem like a fancy lunch.

“Thank you,” said Elijah.

“Don’t mention it,” said Uncle Stan. “Just wanted you to know the police calledtoday and want you to do a walk-through with them tomorrow. Sounds like they have some questions.”

Elijah’s sandwich immediately lodged in his throat. The last place he wanted to go was back tothe house. He nodded.

“How much more of your folks’ stuff do you still need to gothrough?” asked Uncle Stan.

“Not much,” Elijah answered. “I think I’ll put most everything except the pictures in storage.”

“Alrighty. I’ll startloading the truck pronto. I have some otherthings to put in there too. Just someold furniture and books and such.” UncleStan’s voice may have sounded upbeat and chipper, but Elijah noticed his eyesweren’t committed to his smile. Therewas grief beneath his blithe exterior. Pain. Elijah wondered if Uncle Stan cried when helooked at pictures of his brother. Maybehe cried when Elijah wasn’t looking. Ormaybe he didn’t cry at all. Perhaps somepeople are too hurt to cry.

After lunch, Elijah returned to his parents’belongings. He wanted to keep somethingto remember each of his family members.

To remember his mother, he kept a locket with a picture ofher and Elijah’s father inside. Elijahhad given the locket to his mother for her birthday years ago. At the time, it was all he could afford. It was very plain, and it started to turngreen on the back, but his mother kept it and wore it often, even though itturned her neck green. He thought thelocket would remind him of her love and thoughtfulness.

To remember his father, Elijah kept a gold pocketwatch. All his life, Elijah rememberedlistening to stories about the watch.

“This watch,” his father would say, “was created with thefinest gold and the best craftsmanship you’ll ever see! I want it to be worn and carried by thefirst-born sons in our family, and that starts with you. You must promise to protect this watch onceyou inherit it. It has a power insidethat may never be understood, but you must search for the answers.”

Elijah was never sure how much of his father’s stories he believed,but he knew how important the watch was. He delicately touched his father’s gold initials inscribed on theinside. He held it up to his ear andlistened to the soft ticking noise.

The box Uncle Stan gave Elijah contained nothing belongingto Kyria, so Elijah picked up a picture of his sister and himself at thebeach. It would have to do for now. He found an old shoebox and placed the threeitems inside. Then he pushed it underhis bed. These would now be his mostprized possessions.

Elijah surveyed his piles. Two things still needed to be sorted. One in particular had him puzzled and fascinated at the same time: a glass cube filled with dirt. The casing was about the size of a golf ball. There were no markings on it anywhere, whichwas odd because his mother was meticulous when it came to labels. The cube itself was interesting because theredidn’t seem to be an opening, but somehow, it had dirt inside. It meant nothing to him, but until he knewwhat it was, he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away.

The other item left to sort was an old handwritten book. It was almost three times the size of anormal book. Elijah randomly opened thebook and read.

“One hundred and forty years past the reign of Maliphist andthere still is no sign of his sphere. Where there was once certainty in the world of the Magi, there is nowfear and mistrust.”

Elijah had no idea what in the world that meant, so heturned the pages and read a few more lines.

“Tibirus and his people are withdrawing from the city. It is much too dangerous to be among the commonpeople when the Magi do not even trust each other. We may be wise to discuss fleeing.”

After a few more lines, Elijah decided he wasn’t going tounderstand the book. Still, he wascurious to read more, even if it didn’t make sense. He gently placed the book on the floor. When he had time, he would pick it upagain.

Elijah looked at everything neatly organized on thefloor. It was done. He didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt veryempty. Hollow. He paused for a moment in honor of hisparents as he prepared to part with their things.

When all the belongings were secured in the back of thestorage garage, Uncle Stan ordered two large pizzas. He and Elijah took them back to the house andspent the evening watching action-packed movies, each on a chair with a pizzabox on his lap, until they were too tired to keep their eyes open anymore.

Very early the next morning, Uncle Stan shook Elijah awake.

“You ready to go? Thepolice don’t exactly like to be kept waiting, y’know.”

“Right now?” Elijah asked mid-yawn. “It’s still dark out.”

“Yup. We need to geta move on. It takes a few hours to getthere from here. Go hop in the showerand I’ll get breakfast ready.”

Elijah stalled, using every available second in theshower. He knew he had to face the houseat some point, but he wasn’t sure he was ready. Finally, when his fingers looked like raisins and the hot water turnedcold, he got out.

Uncle Stan lived five hours north of the house. Elijah tried to fall asleep. Maybe he would wake up to replace he hadactually been dreaming. Maybe everythingwould go back to the way it was. Ormaybe he could at least fall asleep long enough to keep from smelling cow poopthe whole drive.

The police were already in the driveway when Uncle Stan’struck pulled up. Elijah swallowed hardas he looked at the place he last saw his family alive. Uncle Stan got out of the car. A police officer and a detective Elijah hadnever seen before greeted him.

The detective looked just like Elijah pictured a detectivewould look. He was tall and muscularwith brown hair and a square jaw. He hadon a white button-up shirt with a necktie and brown slacks. In one hand he held an envelope and a notepad. The detective walked around toElijah’s door and bent down.

“Hey there, you must be Elijah. My name is Detective Scott. Do you mind taking a walk with me?” Elijah gathered his courage, got out of thecar, and followed the detective into the house. “Follow me,” he said firmly. “Doyou know why you’re here?”

“Not really,” Elijah admitted.

“I know you’ve told your story to the police already, but Iwant you to walk me through everything that happened.” Detective Scott glanced quickly at Uncle Stan,and then whispered, “As it happened here in the house. From your testimony, you heard something downhere?”

Elijah didn’t want to admit he actually hadn’t heardanything at all—he just felt it. So he went along with the detective’sassumption.

“Yeah,” Elijah answered. “I was upstairs in my room.”

“Why don’t we go up there,” Detective Scott suggested. Elijah left Uncle Stan and the other policeofficer on the bottom floor. Halfway upthe stairs, Elijah froze. He rememberedbeing told his mother was found killed here at this very spot. He backed into the railing and stared at thesteps. The detective cleared his throatimpatiently, breaking Elijah’s trance. He hurried up to his room.

“Walk me through it,” Detective Scott instructed.

Elijah took a long breath. “I was in here and I heard a noise so I got up and hid in the corner.”

“How long?”

“I’m not sure. Notvery long.”

“Then what did you do?”

“I went down the stairs.” Elijah hated that his escape sounded so mundane, as if he just went downto grab a snack or take out the trash. Howcould he explain that the trip downstairs was one of the most terrifyingmoments of his life?

“What made you decide to go down the stairs?” asked thedetective.

“I’m not sure. It justfelt right,” Elijah said.

“Did you see anything?”

“No.”

“Did you hear a noise somewhere else?”

“No. I don’t know howto explain it. I just knew I needed todo it.”

The detective was just doing his job, but Elijah becameirritated at his tone. Like he was introuble.

“Okay,” said Detective Scott, “then what happened?”

“I went into the kitchen.” They tracked the same footsteps Elijah took a week ago, following everyturn. “I tried to use the phone to callfor help, but the power went off.”

“Okay,” said Detective Scott. “What happened next?”

“I saw him.”

“Who?”

“The man who murdered my parents and sister!” Elijah’s voice started to rise.

“What did he look like?”

“I could only see his eyes and his. . . .outline.”

“And you said he had yelloweyes.”

Elijah wasn’t sure if this was a question or a statement.

“Yes. He did.”

When they reached the side yard where Elijah’s father waskilled, the intensity of Detective Scott suddenly changed. He moved extremely close to Elijah and askedhim to be very specific. Elijah couldfeel the detective’s focus. He knew thiswas why he had been called back to the house.

“How did you see your father?” Detective Scott asked.

“I ran into him,” Elijah answered.

“How did he get here?”

“I don’t know. Hejust appeared. My head was turned andthen he grabbed me and talked to me.”

“What did he say? Bespecific.”

“He said…” Elijah thought carefully. “He said he loved me and that there was aplan.”

“What plan? What didhe mean by that?”

Elijah wished he knew because it seemed to him the plandidn’t work.

“I really don’t know what he meant,” answered Elijah.

Detective Scott looked frustrated. “Was there anything else? Did your father say anything else to you? Think, Elijah.”

“That was all.”

Detective Scott looked around the yard, deep inthought. Elijah shifted uncomfortablyand stepped into a wet puddle next to the house.

“Elijah,” Detective Scott said slowly, “there was also a lotof debris scattered around the yard.” Hepulled out the envelope he had been holding and handed Elijah a photograph ofthe scene. “We cleaned it up already,but does any of this look familiar?”

Elijah peered over at the picture and had to blink again tomake sure he was seeing straight. Treebranches littered the yard. Metal scrapsand charred pieces of wood from who knows where were scattered everywhere. It looked as though a tornado had attackedthe house.

“No,” said Elijah, still mesmerized. “When I left everything looked completelynormal.”

Detective Scott wrote that down and took a deep breath. “Believe it or not, this case gets even morebizarre.”

Elijah scowled at the detective. Thiscase? This was his family!

The detective continued. “I’ve seen a lot of crazy things before, but I’ve never seen anythinglike this.” He pointed to thehouse. Elijah had to look closely beforenoticing dozens and dozens of burn marks about the size of dimes. “I hoped you would share with me what youknow about that.”

Detective Scott looked very intensely into Elijah’sdeep-blue eyes, as though searching for something Elijah knew. Elijah felt uncomfortable. Unprotected.

“I don’t know what that is,” Elijah muttered.

Detective looked surprisingly relieved. “Whatever it is, it was powerful enough to goclear through to the inside. We foundthese marks on your parents too. Wethink it’s what killed them.”

Elijah looked at the house in horror. What on earth happened? Detective Scott inched closer. Elijah’s body suddenly began to pulse. He wished Uncle Stan would come out.

In a very soft, very low voice, Detective Scott said, “Doyou now see why we needed to talk? I’venever seen anything like this. Nobody has seen anything like this. Can you imagine the commotion this wouldcreate if it were to get out? I thinkit’s best that until we figure this out, you keep it private.”

Detective Scott began to lead Elijah back into thehouse. On the way, Elijah caught aglimpse of something peeking over the edge of a bush just outside Kyria’swindow. He was about to point it out,but decided against it. He didn’t trustDetective Scott.

“Sir?” Elijah said. “May I have a moment alone please?” Detective Scott looked uneasy, but he allowed it.

“Just make sure you don’t touch anything,” he directed.

When he was confident Detective Scott couldn’t see, Elijahwalked over to the tall bush and inspected the object peeking over thetop. It looked like a small book. Elijah swiftly shook the bush. Surprisingly, two objects fell. The secondthey hit the dirt, Elijah knew exactly what they were: Kyria’s diaries.

Both books were small and brown, but one had a goldlock. Elijah distinctly remembered theday Kyria started writing in the locked diary just six months ago. She was never a private person, but she wasso secretive about her locked diary. Sowhat were they doing out here? He knewshe always kept them inside her dresser drawer. From where he stood, it looked like Kyria threw them out of herwindow. But why?

Not wanting to get caught with any evidence, Elijah crammed thediaries in the back of his pants, under his belt. He hoped Detective Scott wouldn’t notice thebooks, so he pulled his shirt over his belt.

“How are you doing?” the detective asked when Elijah walkedinside the house.

“I’m good. Thankyou,” Elijah responded politely.

They met up with Uncle Stan and the other policeofficer. Everybody shook hands and leftin a hurry. And that seemed to be that. Elijah felt relieved he and Uncle Stan werealone again, but he was completely confused. He wondered if it was okay to tell Uncle Stan about the burn marks onthe house or the diaries tucked under his belt. Before he could say anything, Uncle Stan chimed in.

“Man, that guy seemed intense. You okay?”

“Yeah.”

Uncle Stan became serious. “The policeman just said they don’t have any leads, but they think themurders were a random act of violence.” He briefly put his hand on Elijah’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I thought you should know.”

Elijah gazed out the window and shook his head. Nothing about that night seemed random. The figure was definitely searching forsomething.

Then a thought came to Elijah that haunted him the entireride home. Did the figure replace what hewas searching for? And if not, would hecome looking for Elijah?