“Fire!” shouted Rouge. He didn’t know how it had happened; all he had done was snap his fingers and conjure up an image of Zed in his mind. “Fire!” he shouted again…
“This is rubbish!” cried Inder. “You can’t put me to sleep by boring me to death! That’s not fair at all! You’re supposed to read me a short story, at least. Not use me to test one of your boring essays!”
“Keep quiet and listen, Inder. It gets better than this, I promise,” pleaded Lavanya, “I can’t help it if you have read all the Enid Blytons that Ma has bought for you. You’ll just have to put up with my stories till she or Pa go to Gangarams and bring some more.”
“Ok then. Atleast, add a little proper magic to it. I mean, what kind of magician simply closes his eyes and creates fire by conjuring up images? That stuff is for kids. I’m almost seven, you know!”
“Yes, I know! And it’s almost twelve and way past your bed time. I don’t know why I’m supposed to put you to sleep, in the first place. Now shut up and listen… ‘Fire!’ Rouge shouted again…”
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