by Simon Haynes
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That night Thonn was in bed early. Actually, he was in bed early most nights, having found it easier to feign tiredness than put up with the monosyllabic grunts which passed for after-dinner conversation amongst the other members of his family.
He lay in the darkness thinking about the Magick Book. Undressing spell. Now that would be something. He tried to visualise the naked girl but all he could remember were the words.
"Ik est robus nil," he muttered. "Huh, I'd rather have the ..."
"Eeeeeeeeeeeeek!" The shrill scream pierced the rough wall like a spear through a sheet of paper.
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEK!" The second shriek was a none-too-subtle blend of embarrassment, anger and torment.
Thonn leapt from his bed and ran for the door. He saw a glimpse of his sister's flushed, bare cheeks as she ran from the lounge, and spotted his mother lying flat on her back in the middle of the floor. Nothing doing there, so he turned to his father. "What happened?"
His father was a squat, fierce-looking man with hunched shoulders and facial stubble which could roughen granite. His heavy head turned slowly to look at the sister's door, now closed.
"Lost 'er clothes," he said slowly. A vacant grin appeared on his face, and his shoulders began to shake. "Hur, hur, hur."
Thonn rolled his eyes and retreated to his room. "Ut mason placeus," he muttered under his breath.
There was a sound like a thousand bricks rolling down a hill and suddenly he was standing in darkness. Slowly he turned round, hands outstretched. A stone wall had appeared, a wall which had chopped the house neatly in two.
"Shit," muttered Thon. "This is trouble." Not only was he trapped in his room, destined to die of starvation, he hadn't sought planning permission. He waved his hand in a curious gesture, summoning a little light and a little light supper. As he chewed on the bread, he quickly ran through the spells he'd memorised. There was an assortment of squeals, lightning and curious smells as he experimented with a dejected-looking bunch of furry animals.
Each spell seemed to drain him, until at last he could barely stagger to his cot. He fell, face down, and was asleep in seconds.
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