Wandless Moments

Here it is, a little after six AM, and already I feel tired.  Getting up around four-thirty does that to you.  Don’t ask why I got up that early–my body decided it was time to awake, and so I did.  Considering how tired I was last night, I had hoped to sleep until the alarm went off, but no.  I’m here, up and writing.

Because I was tired last night I had little motivation.  Because I had little motivation, I didn’t write much:  maybe half of what I’ve written the last few night.  Also, my mind was on something else as well, but really:  motivation was a huge factor in not getting things done last night.

However, I did write this:


(Excerpt from The Foundation Chronicles, Book One: A For Advanced, copyright 2013, 2014, by Cassidy Frazee)

A student raised her hand, appearing concerned. “Excuse me, Professor?”

Wednesday checked her tablet to find the name of this particular student. The software they used picked up encoded information from the star on their jacket and sent that to each instructor’s tablet while in class. She saw this was Elisha Tasköprülüzâde, the girl from Turkey “Yes, Elisha?”

Elisha didn’t know how the teacher knew who she was, but that wasn’t important at the moment. “I know this may sound a little strange, but don’t we . . .” She felt a bit embarrassed, but she needed to know. “Why aren’t we using wands?”

Ah, here it comes . . . “Do you think we should use wands?”

“I don’t know.” Elisha was like most everyone here: she knew nothing of magic, and growing up where she did learning about things like magic wasn’t always easy. But everything she’d seen told her one particular thing— “All the stories I’ve seen say witches should have wands. Don’t we get wands?”

Lisa’s friend Anna spoke up for the first time that anyone could remember. “You used a wand, did you not, Professor?” Her eyes were now alive and quizzical, not flat and dead as they had been since arriving last Thursday. “You do have a wand, no?”

“Why, yes, I do. Now where did I put it?” Wednesday crossed her arms and tapped her right foot. “Oh, right. Here—” She snapped her fingers and a wand appeared in her right hand. “This is my wand. You liked it?” She held it up for the whole class to see. “I bought it online three years ago—don’t remember the name of the site, but they had a lot of wands for sale.”

She turned around and set her wand upon her desk. “Wands are foci: they are employed to assist a witch with channeling energy from mysticspace so they can power a spell or enchantment. You’ll see witches use them, but they’ll have trained at other teaching facilities, not here at Salem.” Wednesday almost snorted. “And none of them will have graduated from my class.

“I’ve never used a wand. While they have their place in the magical world, they have no place in this world. I won’t show you how they work, I won’t show you how to do magic with one. As long as you are in this class—or any of my classes—you’ll never hold one, save maybe for a picture, or when you go into Salem on a weekend day pass and you want to fool around with the sightseers. Beyond that, however—” The wand levitated about a quarter of a meter above Wednesday’s desk: she snapped her fingers and it vanished. “No wands. Ever.”


Oh, Wends, you dream crushing little bitch.  You just know some kid was sitting in that class imagining that one day they were going to face off against someone, point their wand at them, and scream, “Expelliarmus!”  And here you’re telling them, like a larger version of Edna Mode, “No wands!”  Naturally some kid smarts off about this, and . . . well, tonight he gets shown what you can do without a wand.  Yeah, it’ll be great.

In writing about six hundred and fifty words, I managed to get the word count over eighty thousand.  Only two of my works have ever made it this far, and this story will move beyond number two on the list.  Maybe that will happen this weekend:  we’ll see, as I have a lot of things I need to take care of this next week, and I may actually miss a day of writing.

But one of those things won’t be getting a wand.

‘Cause Wednesday won’t let me.