Not So Magical

A gloomy night. A rare quiet night in the daytime bustling city.

Just under a city light, in front of Station Q, the air twisted in a manner you could call warping.

As if matter had just been eliminated, breaking all laws of physics.

Under a certain lamp a bright white light was emitting from the warped space. A thunderous booming storm brew in the skies. Lighting striking at the warped space. Earth trembling like an earthquake more disastrous than ever before.

Yet not a single soul could be heard. Not a single soul awake in this bustling city. As if this station and its premise was in a separate plane. Suffering in its own.

Yet a drunk man, with a long bushy beard and flat cap walked straight into the plane.

...

"Hello, this is the police. What's your address and how can we help you?"

"ahhh, there's three... No two. Ahah. Anyways there's three weirdos on the floor in front of that one station."

"Sir, are you drunk?"

"No. Just had three... No two. Ahah."

"Sir, where're you?"

"That one."

"..." At this point the police had the urge to hang up.

"You know that abandoned station"

"Ah Station Q. A team has been dispatched please stay with the two."

"Who said two you dumb drunk bit**! There's three! Three!"

"Okay, please stay with the three."

"There's four! Send a Van."

"..."

"Heyyyyy! Hello!"

"We are sending a van..."

"There's only three though."

"..."

"Hello!"

"The other person has left the call."

"Ahahahaha"

…

As the police siren and the distinct red and blue lights shone in front of the abandoned Station Q, three bodies were found piled up.

One bruised black and blue and bloody. Very bloody.

The other male seemed to be alive, but was wearing medieval clothes.

The female of the three seemed to be wearing an old silky white dress with bright blue outlines and spider web designs. She was carried into the police car. How a tall body like hers was so light, was a mystery.

Looking closely, she was pretty. Very pretty. Her pale skin and double eyelids highlighted the clothes wrapping around her slender body. Her long blonde hair draping over her right shoulder as she lays seated in the police car.

The medieval clothed man, was also pale skinned. He was quite handsome.

His tall muscular body seemed like that of a gym model. His black hair with red highlights looked very different to his clothing. Very off-putting. His long hair that was tied into a pony tail looked quite extravagant, even for him, as his neck proved an old scar from his Adam's apple, round the right side, to his nape.

He was also carried unconscious into the police car. How a tall body like his was so-

No. It was heavy. Very heavy.

The odd thing about this situation was that the bloody bruised male had woken up. The only conscious one was the one that seemed a foot into his grave.

The police had asked for his name, but the tanned tall male and his short silky white hair only looked on with his fiery red yet violet eyes, as his fringes blew along his face. He looked annoyed and confused. The male did not seem to want to cooperate, or understand the speech of the police.

What confused the police officers even more was that once he saw the paramedics, he willingly moved to the ambulance on his own. He seemed fine, even with a deep wound spurting blood from his chest.

"What's your name?" Asked the paramedic, in her green uniform with her blonde short hair and a big friendly smile covering her face.

"Kell. Kell Lisbon. How shall one address you my lady?"

With a handsome wounded male holding her hand in a very delicate manner, she could not help but blush.

"She's my wife."

"..." Kell continued to stare into the paramedics eyes whilst blood continued to drip as the male paramedic stopped treating his wound.

Kell completely ignored his warning. He gently caressed her cheeks as he lifted her chin, and moved closer to her lips. The paramedics face blushed red like a tomato, and subconsciously drew in a breath as her lips trembled. She slowly moved her face closer to reach his protruding lips with her own as she closed her eyes.

"Ugh..." He vomited a gallon of blood on to the poor paramedics face and fainted. The husband paramedic did not think the outcome of pressing his wound to antagonize him would be so dramatic. For he was able to move so fine and well.

"Did I misjudge the severity of the wound?"

…

Three days later and the three were in the Immigration and Customs Enforcement Center.