Fiction — The MagicLand Chronicles

The Wanderer

A ghost hunts for prey in the new land of Magic

Charles Bastille
MagicLand — The Novel
12 min readAug 31, 2021
Original image by breakermaximus for Shutterstock. Photoshopped by Charles Bastille. All rights reserved.

Nothing remains of Pittman. As we watch its remnants smolder, I know deep in my soul that every one of us has the same picture in our mind, that of the grand and stately old hall, a stubborn old man of a building frowning at its more modern surrounding university upstarts.

It was a proud frown, though — an I know better than you frown, with an upturned smirk that seemed to be buried within its gold-colored masonry. Today, despite its once-strong stone structure, little remains. It smolders. Ruined, it offers little more than wisps of smoke to the students still staggering about its grounds. I can’t imagine what could have melted those old welds that held its foundation.

I look at Katrina imploringly, begging her to talk to me, but she doesn’t know I’m here. I want to grab her by the shoulders but I know my hands would go right through them. I shrug and laugh at my frustration.

So instead I wander through the crowd, wishing I could speak to people, wondering if they could forgive me if they knew the truth.

For it was me who made Pittman burn. Stumbling around aimlessly, I push into each and every person in the crowd asking for forgiveness, but nobody knows I’m there. They ignore me as if I’m less than lint.

Today, I know I’ll have to leave this place. Its ruins. Katrina. She knows I’m inside there now, embers among embers. I am so close to her gushing tears I can nearly touch them, but now, today, tomorrow, never will I.

I put my palms up before me and they’re translucent. I can see everything in front of me through them, as if through a filmy lens.

Days, weeks, months, years, no, decades pass. Yes, I think it’s been decades since Pittman burned. Me in it.

The world has changed much since those days. Death has taken charge. Magic has taken root among survivors of a scourge I don’t quite understand. I hunt those survivors for sport. What else is there to do?

The powerful witch who thinks she can manipulate time throws cascades of fire at a small village to try to hide it from the drones. She thinks she is hiding the…



Charles Bastille
MagicLand — The Novel

Medium "Top writer" in racism, humor, politics, and satire. No AI-assisted writing. Author of MagicLand and more. All stories © 2022-23 by Charles Bastille.