Inhabitants Of My Urban Realms 2

(short fiction #6)

My first encounter with a non-human was life-changing. I was sitting on the grass, just having my morning walk at my favourite park when a sorcerer said, “good morning!”. Took me a while to properly reply. Apart from his purple eyes, he looked completely human. But, I still feared that he would transform me to a canine or worse, himself to one just to annoy me. Instead, he continued to a small talk:

“Do you always walk here?” He had a slight Eastern Javanese accent.

“Yes, I do. But, not everyday.” I was surprised by my lack of stuttering. I usually stutter when talking to strangers or anyone I’m uncomfortable with.

“It’s so quiet, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

I don’t remember most of the conversation. Or maybe the writer (my creator) is just lazy. But, there are some that I always do:

“What do you do as a living?”, I asked.

“I teach applied magic.”

“Applied magic?”

Ya. I teach it at the polytechnic.”

“Magic can be taught?”

“Yes, it can. Everyone can learn it. You don’t have to be born with it.”

“Applied. What do you mean by applied?”

“It means it has practicality. Magic can be used to track criminals, protect our homes, control the unruly ghosts and even to make our foods tastier!”

“Wow!”, I replied profoundly.

“I’m more interested in teaching pure magic, actually.”


“It helps us in understanding the philsophical, social and cultural aspects of magic. Don’t get me wrong. I do think practicality is important. But, we should also thrive to understand everything, whether they grow money or not. If we don’t, we are proudly ignorant about our own world. Besides, pure and applied magic overlap with each other. Some branches of pure magic can have their practical use.”

“Where did you learn magic?”

“I attended a magical boarding school called C_S_ in Surabaya. Then, I got a bachelor’s degree from G_ university in Bandung and a Ph.D from F_P_ university in Boston.”

I tried to whistle. I forgot I couldn’t.

“Anyway, I have to go now.”

When I was already comfortable with him. We even hadn’t introduced our names!

He got up and said “bye” before he ran towards a pregnant hijabi lady, who was sitting at a nearby rusty bench. She got up and they off together.

I just sat there, contemplating my first encounter with a non-human. I muttered, “wow, not all of them are bad.”

Unexpectedly, an old lady in Malay kebaya appeared out of nowhere. “You think?”, she scorned before she slapped me hard. Then, she stormed off angrily, swearing in multiple languages under her breath.

I was 15. Old enough to reject stereotypes. I deserved the pain.

Author: The Stammering Dunce

I write blogs. I love to act smarter than I really am and I pretend that my opinions are of any significance. Support me on Patreon:

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