Blood at the Root

by LaDarrion Williams

Lemme let you in on a lil’ secret: you do. It is in your blood; it is nestled deep in your bones. It is in the very soil you walk on that’s been blessed by the sweat and tears of your ancestors. Walk in it with pride.

Maybe there’s a reason why Black boys like me don’t have magic powers. Because no good ever comes from it.

I can’t even comment on that. Because the one thing I ain’t trynna do—what the world already tries with boys like us—is take his innocence away.

Sensing is when a conjurer recognizes another. It’s—Well, you feel it. I’m sure you’ve been baptized in your magic, no?”

“I know everything, Mr. Baron. You’ve been irresponsible, and it’s our job to keep people like you safe and keep magic in secrecy.”

It’s not his fault, he didn’t have anyone guiding his magic up until this point.

“I wish I knew, chile. Your mama, the kind of magic she was doin’…if I’m bein’ honest, I’m not surprised it got her in some kind of trouble. Maybe it’s best you focus on your future.”

Was his mama Voldemort?

“I’m gonna stay, and I’m gonna go to this school to find out what happened to my mama. If you really don’t know about that night, then I gotta be the one to find some answers.”

Abrupt decisions

“And you’re like Miles Morales, but with magic instead of spidey-senses.”

Over on my right, a stone bridge curves about twenty feet in the air that says Caiman University in deep shades of purple and gold and shrouded by deep foliage. It has an emblem that looks like a purple flower rising out of an open book. It’s supported by two hands in a praise gesture. It also has white-gold linings on the edge and a slogan at the bottom: ~Where Our Roots Are Deep, Numerous, and Vivacious~

One dude in a cool-looking wheelchair closes his eyes, levitates. Another girl opens the palm of her hand, literally creating a mini tornado. It grows a few feet tall. Papers fly everywhere. She closes her hand, making the tornado disappear just like that.

It’s reminding me more of Halloweentown University

“I mean, this.” I point all around us. “It’s a whole campus full of magical niggas.”

Even at an HBCU it’s not appropriate to talk like that in front of admin, professors, or staff lol like be your authentic self but decorum still matters

“Focus on your classes. Grow in your magic and don’t be reckless. That’s how you make her proud.

Blackgical culture

They say love is like the sea. Because of its vastness, we really don’t understand it fully. But we know it moves with a rhythm, and it’s deeper than anything in this world. It’s endless, and it always comes back to shore. But how can you love something that’s been away from you for so long?

Me and Alexis are like the sea and the land. Distant for a while. But always meet at the edge of the world.

“Ma—lemme call you back.” She hangs up and storms past me. “Can I help you?! Starin’ at folks and shit.”

Lmao not he wrote me in the book

“Don’t worry, you can smoke here.”

Absolutely not

“Only for upper-level students, and it’s grown here. It’s from the chem lab. Hoodoo majors are smoking it up. As the students say. Also, we are not in the business of criminalizing marijuana.”

NOT AT MY HBCU! This would never be allowed