Dark Magic

• Liam Croucher, Grade 6, Carey Baptist Grammar
• Short Story
• 2012

Finalist in the 'Far Out 2012' competition

Darren Treaty walked briskly across the road, avoiding the simpleminded drivers passing through the bright and clear red lights. Clutched to his chest, were files holding secrets no mortal could ever imagine. Secrets that would cause humanity to completely turn on itself.
He was heading for the Sanctuary, the magical undercover headquarters. Darren was a sorcerer, immortal unlike the mortals on this earth. He was also a master of magic. However, magic wasn’t just pulling a rabbit out of a hat; it was wielding fire, water, earth and air to your advantage. That was all very well, with magicians like Darren being on the good side of things. But then there was dark magic, used by the villains, who predominantly used it to take over the world, or completely obliterate it. They also used dark magic to torture people and to manipulate minds; just plain cruelty.
The secrets Darren was holding were all about stopping the latest insidious plot of the villain. Jasper Despair, a young adult who was completely off his rocker, had a different plan to previous enemies. He didn’t really want to do anything to the world; he just wanted to infect everyone in it with dark magic. Of course, this would result in everyone going insane and destroying each other.
Darren took a left turn where he should have taken a right, but of course he didn’t realise this until he walked right into the man himself, Jasper Despair. He stupidly looked up at his surroundings, guessing his location as the villain’s hideout, a run down car wash, and looked down in time to see a fist fly into his ribs. The wind was knocked out of him, then a dark tendril wrapped around his throat. He managed to summon a flame in his palm, which he pressed to Despair’s leg. Jasper let out a strangled gasp, and then made the mistake of releasing Darren. Darren used the air to send Jasper flying into a nearby car. Then he ran. A dark, shadowy fist slammed him off course into a wall. He turned around, just in time to block a shadow hammer coming down at crushing speed. The hammer thundered down on his wall of air, but Darren wouldn’t give in. He finally let down his barrier and rolled away just in time.
As he stood, four shadows grabbed him roughly and threw him to the ground. The shadows turned to long, spindly tendrils, wrapping around him, so tight he couldn’t breath. He gave up the pathetic hope of fighting back and let the darkness creep into his body and mind, covering and taking over his whole soul... until he lost consciousness.
Darren stood. His eyes had glazed over in pitch black and he walked in a powerful stride, shadows billowing at his feet. He had used to despise black magic, but now it was one with him, coursing through his veins, controlling him like a puppeteer controlling a puppet. And boy it felt good...