The Magic

Behind his back they use to say that he was magic; that his mother and father made a deal with one of the lower demons to have a child - A beautiful child; A blond haired blue eyed child - A boy – A beautiful boy:  A boy with broad shoulders, a brilliant smile, a noble spirit, and the steel tongued charisma of his mother - A boy that women would want and that men would envy. And he was that; except for the color. The boy was born black: The color of secret contracts; signatures in ink; and sex in backrooms. But he was beautiful… and popular… and brilliant… and everything else his parents had bargained for; but no matter how hard he tried, he could not hide the magic.  It danced around him like a song. It was in his blood.  His wrists and hips moved like they had no bones. When he spoke you could hear whispers of secret sacred lisping languages. And he had gifts that were ungodly, unnatural, and lovely: Eyes the color of absinthe and jade, lips that tasted of cinnamon and syrup, and the affectations of a princess in a parade. He covered everywhere he went with a dust that sparkled like diamonds in starlight; it made him shine like lemonade on a summer day, like something more than human.

The children could tell he was magic. They knew he could cast spells to make boys do things with boys that boys don’t do with other boys. He made boys feel like men; and made men feel like boys again, like some ancient Hindu dark skinned god of desire.  But they say in his heart he carried a curse. They say that if you kiss him your parents will find you dead in your bedroom covered in lesions and purple spots - smelling of your own shit with a note taped to your headboard that reads: “I’m sorry; I could not help who I loved.”

He walks the halls between 5^th and 6^th period like a character on a Primetime CW sitcom: dressed in his daddy’s money; beautiful and charming; colored in pink cardigans and Tiffany bracelets; and glowing like a faggot on fire.  They tell the new kids who are mesmerized and dumbstruck (and eager to not be alone), not to follow him. “Do not fall in love with him.” They say, “We think he is a fairy.  He is magic. There is poison in his blood; there is addiction in his touch; and we promise you, if you fall in love with him, you will not survive it.”

The End