“Here’s to five amazing years,” Michael held up his glass to toast. “We know you didn’t choose us, and we know if you had it your way you would back wherever the hell you came from, but, you know, it’s been interesting. Here’s to you, John.” And with that Michael threw back the last of his beer.
It was June second, and it had become a tradition for John and Mike to spend the night in the local bar reminiscing about the day John arrived and all that had happened in the years he had been in Burwell. The night always filled John with a strange array of emotions. He enjoyed how each year they had more to discuss and how they didn’t ever talk about who he was before he arrived. But even while he was enjoying the memories, he could help but wish that he had more. He couldn’t help but regret that another year had past and still he was just John Doe.
“Drink up, John,” Mike said, “or else I’ll just have to drink it all.”
“Can’t have that,” John said as he drank down the last of his own beer.
John sat down his glass and looked around the bar. There was a slight haze over the whole scene from the cigarette smoke. The pool table had a crowd gathered around it and a few people were moving around the dance floor. As his eyes moved towards the door, he noticed a strange man, dressed in a long black coat, eyeing him suspiciously. John wasn’t one to win a fight much less pick one, so he turned back around with the hope that the man would leave him alone.
“We need another pitcher,” Mike told the bartender as he poured the last of the one in front of them into John’s glass. John laughed again. Many people in Burwell looked down on Mike because of his less-than-desirable job as the garbage man, but John had found Mike to be loyal and honest and one of the few in Burwell who never gave him accusatory and suspicious looks.
“I’ll take one too.” It was the man in the black coat. He had taken the empty bar stool next to John. John tried not to look at him, but his eyes couldn’t help but wander. Up close, John saw that it wasn’t a coat the man was wearing but rather a cloak, unlike any John could remember seeing before in Burwell. The man caught John’s eye and smiled. John gave a weak smile, his face reddening from being caught staring and turned to Mike.
“You know I didn’t really have any friends until you showed up.” Mike was getting pretty tipsy by now. John could always tell because that was when Mike started getting mushy, going on and on about how John was his best friend in the whole world.
“You and I, we’re both just oddballs. That’s why we make such good friends. Crazy, that’s what we are.” Mike was leaning heavily on the bar.
“Yep, we’re crazy all right,” John said. Mike went on about all the great times they had had together. The many times they had gotten drunk in the that same bar they were in that night, and Mike’s favorite story about the time they passed out in the middle of a field only to be awoken by a herd of cows. John tried to focus on him but his eyes were drawn to the man next to him.
Underneath his black cloak, he wore a set of what looked like choir robes. They were deep red in color. It was just as the man was pouring his first glass from the pitcher that John saw it. It was sticking out of the pocket on his cloak. He could only see half of it, but he recognized it instantly. It was a stick very similar to the one that had been found on John the day he had appeared in Burwell.
John’s mind began to race. Perhaps this man knew who he was or at least where he came from. Everyone in Burwell had been baffled by the stick, but this man was carrying one. Surely he must know what it is. Still, John hesitated. Perhaps it was his strange appearance or just the way he had first look at John, but John felt this man was not to be dealt with lightly.
“What’s your name, boy?” John looked up, startled. The man was staring at him with a bemused look on his face.
“They call me John Doe. Why do you ask?” John said nervously.
“John Doe, eh? That isn’t much of a name.”
“It ain’t his real name,” Mike chimed in from beside John. “He don’t remember his real name.”
“Is that true?”
“Yeah, it is,” John replied. “Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering.” The man turned back to his drink.
“Hey, bud, hold my place. I have to take a piss or I am going to explode.” Mike got up and headed to the other side of the bar.
John decided that now was his chance. He still didn’t trust the man, but it might be his only opportunity for real answers about his past.
“What’s that thing in your pocket,” he whispered to the black cloaked man.
The man studied John’s face for a moment. John felt the man’s eyes travel up to the scar on his forehead where he stopped for a moment longer. The man then shook himself as if just suddenly realizing that he was staring. He smiled, winked at John and quickly pushed the stick deep in his pocket and out of sight.
“A wand,” he whispered even more silently than John had. “Why do you ask?”
“A what?” John said louder than he intended.
The man seemed to ponder a moment before finally sighing and turning on his barstool. “Have you seen something similar to what’s in my pocket?” he asked.
“Yes, they found one on me the day I appeared here. No one has been able to figure out what it was though. Most thought””
“Man that was a GREAT piss.” Mike had returned.
“We need to go somewhere safe,” the man whispered as he got up and left the bar.
John sat there for a moment unsure of what to do. He didn’t like the man but he couldn’t just let him walk away with out learning more. “Hey, Mike, here’s money for the tab. I’m going to head out. I’ll catch up with you later,” John said as he laid money out on the counter.
“Okay, you party pooper.” Mike started drinking straight out of the pitcher as John followed the man out of the bar.
“So what is that thing in your pocket?” John demanded.
“It’s a wand. A wand is an essential tool for anyone in our world. Damn near impossible to do much without it.” An odd smirk grew across the man’s face as he spoke.
“What do you mean ‘our world’?” John asked slightly calmer than before. He decided not to let this man see his fear.
“Our world, the magical world.”
“The magical world? That’s absurd. Magic isn’t real.”
“For a man who wants so many answers, you sure aren’t open to much. Let me ask you something. Have strange things ever happened when your emotions got the best of you?” The breaking glassware, the trembling plates; even as the memories of the occurrences were coming back to him, John knew it was true. Still he tired to remain cool.
“How do you know that I am a-a wizard?” John asked.
“Well, you said they found a wand on you didn’t you?” This was true, but John still wasn’t sure. “Look, we must leave this spot and find a safer place. I will answer any questions you have, but not here. It’s not safe. So, quickly, follow me.” He beckoned John to follow him. John knew he probably shouldn’t. He knew nothing about this man, not even his name. He decided to tell the man that if he wanted to talk they should return to the bar. It was so loud in there that no one would be able to hear them talk, but the man quickly walked away and John was eager for answers. Besides, John could always leave if he didn’t like where they ended up.
And so with a quick glance back at the bar, John followed the man out of the light and down the street.