Fiction|Challenge Response
Faigol Falls In Love
Who is she and will she love him in return?
Previously — Faigol’s Great Escape
Hearing a foreign chime, Faigol glanced about in confusion scratching his scruffy beard. Feeling the vibration on his wrist, he pushed the loose sleeve up revealing his antique, enchanted watch displaying You have magic mail.
Flustered, Faigol hurried into the tavern, the pups chasing after him, where he breathlessly slid onto a chair. He took his miniature spell book from his pocket with one hand while the other fumbled for his crooked wand. Tapping the small book, it grew full size before he could blink.
He quickly opened the thick book to reveal the same flashing message hovering above the pages. Faigol licked his parched lips as he read the subject line. You’ve been contacted through Magic Mingle!
Raising his weathered hand, his voice shook as he requested a mug of courage. “Barkeep, a glass of ale, if you please.”
He took the offered mug, downed the entirety of its contents, then waved his hand over the pages to open the message.
A gorgeous, young red head with long, luscious fiery locks stared back at him with an intense gaze from her profile.
Faigol’s breath caught in his throat. Licking his lips and smoothing his beard, he glanced at the pups. “Darlene didn’t think I’d ever get a date. That blasted chair had no faith in the Great Faigol! It only took,” He began counting on his fingers,”37 years to get a response!”
He quickly made plans for a date later that day. Flashing a toothy grin at the pups, “I have a date! What should we do until it’s time?”
Each of the pups stretched their necks and sniffed the wizard before lying on the floor whining. Each covered their noses with their paws as watery eyes observed him.
Faigol raised each arm and sniffed, “What? I bathed a couple weeks ago. It’s not time for a bath.”
The barkeep bellowed from the sanctuary of the bar across the room, “It’s time for a bath Faigol! And some clean clothes!”
Faigol glanced at the pups, then the patrons seated on the tavern’s far side before rising to bathe.
Hours later, Faigol stood outside the diner smelling of soap with his beard and hair combed for the first time in decades. He smoothed his beard then shifted the odd clothing the mercantile lady recommended as he glanced up and down the cobblestone street for his date.
He stared with his mouth gaping as a curvaceous young woman sauntered down the street, her flaming hair dancing in her wake.
She stopped outside the diner, looking around for someone when she noticed Faigol staring at her. “You should take a picture. I charge for staring.”
Faigol blinked sharply and closed his mouth, swallowing hard. “Luci? It’s me — Faigol.”
She stopped, narrowing her eyes at him. “You are not the man I’m meeting. In fact, you look old enough to be my grandfather!” Luci noticed the similarities in his eyes and facial features to the young man in the profile she had studied for longer than she cared to admit. “How old was that profile picture?”
“Well, it’s a little outdated.” Faigol shuffled his feet. “It’s been 37 years.”
Clearly frustrated and a little disgusted that her hot date turned out to be an antique, “Dude, update your profile!” Then she spun on her boot heels, flaring the black mini skirt as she began walking away.
“Wait! Where are you going?! I thought we had a date?” Faigol fumbled for words.
Luci looked back at him, “Dude, you’re old!”
Faigol pointed at the diner, his voice hopeful, “I can still buy you supper.”
Her stomach growled loud enough for them both to hear. “Fine. But keep your hands to yourself, old man.”
Faigol hurried to open the door for Luci, quite taken with her beauty and her sass. After helping her into her chair, they each ordered generously as if they’d not eaten for weeks.
They ate for a while in silence before each began asking questions out of boredom — then open curiosity. Such as, why do you have horns, why have you not updated your profile, why are you still single, and ending with, how old are you really?
They laughed at each other’s off-the-wall responses and jokes, nodded in understanding at solemn situations, and found they actually did have things in common.
Rising from their shared feast, Faigol watched her intently.
Luci, becoming uncomfortable under his scrutiny, “What? Do I have food on my face?” She grabbed a napkin and began wiping at the corners of her rosy lips.
Shaking his head, his long white hair swung in denial, “No, you look lovely. Would you care for a walk? Maybe a drink?”
Luci stopped scrubbing nothing off her face and stared at him, contemplating his request. She slowly set the napkin back on the table and stood with her head held high, commanding respect due her position.
“Faigol, it’s been a lovely evening, it really has.” She paused, watching his expectation fall to where the pups lay on either side of him. “I would love a walk and a drink.”
Faigol’s head snapped up. Did he hear correctly? The pups relaxed expressions changed to utter shock as they too looked at her.
Smiling mischievously and winking at her date, “I will warn you though, I will drink you under the table, old man!”
The unlikely couple strolled out of the diner continuing the banter, Luci’s hand tucked in Faigol’s chivalrous arm.
Luci glanced at Faigol. “We need to do something about your age.”
When Faigol paused to study her, Luci gestured to herself and added, “It looks as if you robbed the cradle.”
A moment later, Faigol smiled his yellow, toothy grin. Reaching for his wand, he waved it over himself once as Luci watched him transform into an even hotter guy than the profile picture she’d drooled over.
Faigol flasher her a brilliant smile, “Shall we, my dear? I believe you issued a challenge.”
The pups bound playfully after the couple who were just as playful with each other.
Don’t know about Faigol’s Antics? Read the collection below!!
This is written in response to Bradan Writes Stories’s challenge below and in honor of his Luci series — check it out! I challenge Burak Toksoy to join the fun!!
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