: Lost in Translation: The Next GenerationAuthor
: Ayaia of the MoonPairing
: Diadem: Worlds of MagicTheme
: #22 – CradleDisclaimer
: I own Diadem! Really! Am I lying? Yes! But I wish I weren’t…
Lost in Translation: The Next Generation
Sneaking through a castle was, to some, an easy task. But those people didn’t believe in magic. He was only eight years old, yes, but he had…not a fear, but a healthy respect
for magic, and what it could do. More specifically, what he’d seen it do to his dad. He paused in his creeping to shudder. When his mom was in a mood…things could get scary; thus his stealth.
He peered carefully around the corner, making sure there was no one to witness his covertness through the corridor. Luck was on his side. They were probably fussing over the baby. He rolled his eyes. Honestly. It was just a baby. He’d been a baby once, and so had his best friend, Dahltia. She’d even been a girl
baby, and that was even worse than a normal
baby, but she’d punch him for saying so.
He jumped at the sound of his name, turning quickly around, and sighing in relief. Dahltia had appeared behind him soundlessly; it was an annoying habit she had. “You scared me!” Renald snapped at her, looking around to make sure no one had followed her.
“Sorry!” Dahltia exclaimed, looking apologetic. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I was gonna get some of those cookies your mom made,” Renald admitted, peeking around the corner again to determine whether or not Dahlita had been followed.
Renald held up a hand, silencing her. They had reached their destination; the kitchen. He grinned. He could practically taste the cookies now. All warm and gooey…
!” Dahltia hissed insistently.
Dahltia just grabbed his pale hand in her own blue one and pulled him backwards. An instant later, Renald felt a surge of warning fill his mind. The door to the kitchen burst open, banging horribly against the wall where the two had just been standing. Luckily, the angry occupant of the kitchen was going the other way; muttering curses and tracking mud all over the floor. Renald gulped. It was his mother.
He glanced quickly at his companion, deducing that Dahltia had likely been listening to the goings on in the kitchen, and had known when the door would open. And he himself had always had a sort of…sense about danger, and when something bad was going to happen. It still seemed miraculous, though, that they’d avoided this disaster; all without his mom even seeing them!
Renald grinned. Perhaps his luck would continue to hold out…
A disheveled head poked through the door. “I love you too, sweetheart,” called a merry voice. Renald held his breath. It was his dad.
As if sensing his son nearby, the man turned, eyes zeroing in on the two youths partially hidden behind the door. To Renald’s surprise, his dad’s face, instead of adopting the stern expression his mother used, split into a wide grin. “What are you two? Crazy? She might come back!” He beckoned them into the safety of the kitchen, shutting the door quietly behind them.
“Dad…” Renald said cautiously. “Why…why is Mom so mad at you all the time?”
“She’s in a mood,” Renald’s dad explained, shooting a glance up the passageway in paranoia.
“All the time?”
Renald’s father grinned unexpectedly. “Yeah. Pretty much.”
“Uncle Score…what are you doing in here?” asked Dahltia meekly, glancing around the kitchen. Her eyes alighted on a bag of flour, and she grinned. “Were you hiding my mom’s cookies?”
Renald’s dad – Score – laughed sheepishly. “I, uh, actually ate your mom’s cookies.”
Dahltia frowned. “You were supposed to save some for later.”
“I figured I’d make more…” Score said. And with that, three cookies appeared in his hand, one of which he offered to the still pouting Dahltia.
“You made those out of mud!” Renald accused, pointing to the large quantities of mud that streaked the kitchen floor.
“I dunno what you kids are talking about. Mud. Honestly.”
The mud abruptly disappeared, turning, instead, into harmless dirt that blended in with the dusty floor.
Renald grinned, taking a proffered cookie for himself as Score looked at his own cookie thoughtfully. “Dad…they’re not
made out of mud, right?” Renald asked meekly.
Score laughed appreciatively. “No. I made them the old fashioned way; carbon, flour particles and air.”
Dahltia pulled a face. “It tastes like your mom’s spongecake.”
Renald choked on his own cookie. Dahltia’s words…however cruel…were completely true! Score looked crestfallen.
“Chocolate’s hard, okay?” he muttered, taking the cookies back and biting into one thoughtfully. “But you’re right. These taste like cardboard.”
Score waved a hand airily, at the same time using his magic to make the cookies disappear…or, more accurately, change them back into their original form of carbon, flour particles and air. “Lost in translation. Again. Irony, I say. All of my best puns are still wasted with my own creation… How about we make more cookies?”
Dahltia frowned as Renald cheered. “The real
way?” she asked hesitantly. Score nodded in the affirmative, and then Dahltia cheered too.
“After all,” Score continued, pulling out a bowl to mix ingredients in as Dahltia charged for the recipe book, “It’s never too early to condition children to love cookies.”
Renald’s eyes widened. “But Betta’s just a baby!”
“Beta,” Dahltia corrected him automatically.
Score rolled his eyes. “How do you think you two came to love cookies so much? I’d sneak the snickerdoodles in crumbles into your baby food.”
Dahltia giggled, and Renald nodded in sudden understanding. Then, in a grin that so resembled his father’s, he reached into the flour container and dashed a handful at Dahltia.
Dahltia could only blink in astonishment as the flour settled in her hair and made even her flaming red locks look dull; like she’d aged 30 years. As the miniscule particles drifted through the air, kissing the countertops, Dahltia’s face shifted into an evil grin. This was war.
Later, as Renald, Dahltia, AND Score were sitting sullenly in what had been dubbed the ‘time-out’ room of the large castle, Renald frowned. He never had gotten that cookie.