top of page
  • Writer's pictureMagicals' Alliance

DelomaryVignettes| small scenes capturing the world of the Magicals' Alliance beyond the books.

Elijah’s First Christmas at the Delomary Mansion, the winter after he moved in with Aunt Christine and Aunt Lisa when he was 12, several months after everyone thought his mother had died, but rather she had been kidnapped by Devlina in her plot to conquer Old Earth and install herself as the Malevolent and ruler of the dimension.

The scene occurred prior to Magic, Monsters and Me.

Early December.

I pushed back the glass and wood panel doors to Aunt Christine’s library.

“Well, what do you think?” Aunt Christine, asked, perched on a ladder, her bright red hair piled on her hair, gazing at me intently through her glasses. She wore them not because she had poor eyesight, but when she wanted to make herself look different. Not hot headed or impulsive. Rather, calm and patient.


“I like the glasses.”

“Forget the spectacles, kid,” Christine grunted, “The tree!”

I padded across the room in my slippers, pink rabbits Christine bought for me last week. I had complained, “Boys don’t wear slippers like those!”

Christine wasn’t wearing her glasses, “But do you like them?”

“They look cozy.” I relented, “And cute.”

“Then we’ll get them.” She said tossing them in the cart at Conglomo-Mart, “Never be ashamed to be who you are around me.”

“Anyway now!” Christine complained. She had her hands on her sides. Ready to take off her glasses. Lose her cool.

I surveyed the tree. Large glass pink baubles hanging from the fragrant boughs, shimmering pink garland and…were those lights….?

“Lambos” Christine exclaimed, coming down off the ladder, “You know I love Lamborghinis, I have twelve you know.”

“I know,” I repeated, “Excessive.”

“Rude.” Christine commented, coming to stand beside me, “Don’t you love them?”

“Are those little pom-poms, dresses and stilletos?” I pointed to plastic ornaments scattered around the string of pink lights.

“Yes!” Christine said, “I was a cheerleader, once, for a week actually. But I got into a brawl with the captain. Tanisha Moutard. Big ego. Small brain. She accused me of being a misanthrope because I refused to smile while cheering. Why would I do that? Isn’t cheering enough? Apparently not.”

“That’s the point of cheerleading, making people happy.”

“Is it?” Christine had her glasses off. She surveyed me with her dark brown eyes. She was judging me. She could snap a finger and turned me into a glass of egg nog. She’d drink me down and pee me out and think nothing of it.

“Yes,” I said, “Duh, Auntie.”

Christine laughed. Really hard. She summoned a glass of whiskey out of the air, “You’re candid, kid.” Christine said, “That’s why I like you.”

We sat in the wing chairs by the fire, watching shadows leap and jump over the twelve foot tree in the corner by the French doors opening to the verandah and gardens beyond.

“People say proper young women don’t drive pink Lamborghinis.” Christine said between sips of her whiskey, “They say we should only eat salads with no dressing and watch what we say and drive around in cutesy cars named after bunny rabbits.”

“Clearly they never met you.”

Christine roared with laughter, “Exactly right, Elijah.” She said, “I love to race in Le Mans in my pink Lambo and leave all the male drivers in the dust. And when I pull off my helmet, and shake out my long and gorgeous hair everyone just dies. Because girls like me don’t win the Le Mans.”

“Girls like you could be an assassin.”

Christine giggled.

“I kill monsters.” She said a moment later, “And the haters.”

“Misogynists, racists, anti-semites and bigots of all colors beware.”

“Exactly.” Christine said. She pointed to the tree, “The clothes and stilettos represent my love of fashion.”

“Your passion, reason to live.” I observed, “You’re a powerful encantreina. But you prefer working at the Puzzles boutique in the mall. Grandma thinks you’re crazy.”

“She can bite me,” Christine said, “I am around clothes all day, transform ordinary women into fashion icons and I get a discount.”

“Our family owns Puzzles.”

“Listen, Elijah,” Christine said, “We work in this family. We do things with our lives. We all need a purpose. Mine is to spread the gospel of fashion to the masses, race my pink Lambo and use magic to hunt down murderous monsters who want to kill ordinary folks.”

“And destroy haters.”

“Right.” Christine said, “Anyway this tree represents me. We’ll get a tree for you. And you’ll decorate it so it’s like you.”

“IT’ll be bare,” I said, “I have no idea who I am.”

Christine put on her glasses and peered over at me, tapping her fingers on the arm of the wing chair, “You have to figure out who you are.”


“No,” Christine said, “First you have bright red hair.”

“Hate it.”

“You like Legos and reading books where the protagonist is fifty years old and lives with two siamese.”

“Someday I’ll live with two siamese.”

“You love magic.”

“I don’t know magic.”

Christine summoned a glass of Egg Nog from the air and handed it to me, “Ah, you are funny. You are going to learn. Right after the new year.”

“Mom didn’t want me to use magic.”

“Times change.”

I sipped the egg nog, “I’ll mess it up.”

“You won’t”

“How do you know?”

“You’re a Delomary. It’s in your genes to use magic and battle monsters and keep the world safe.”

I glanced at the pink bunny slippers on my feet, “How am I gonna battle monsters if I wear slippers like these?”

“You miss the point,” Christine said, “It’s not about the slippers but the feet inside. It’s about the warrior inside you. Just like they say I’m not supposed to drive to a pink Lambo and that boys who like pink bunny slippers aren’t supposed to destroy demons. But screw them. We do what we want. Do you understand?”

My eyes met hers. They sparkled. She smiled at me. I glanced at the tree. I loved her tree because it represented my Aunt Christine. Her tree represented freedom.

Copyright 2023 Timoteo Tong. All Rights Reserved. Not for sale or unauthorized use.

4 views0 comments


Post: Blog2_Post
bottom of page