PL1

CHAPTER 19: Renewed Purpose Time stretched out. There was no rush of air, no sudden shock that almost knocked him off his feet. Dean scrunched an eye open, and felt a rush of disappointment slam into him like a speeding semi. Jacob’s boots were still massive. The room continued to tower overhead, and the gaze of the other humans turned oppressive and dangerous. His vulnerability weighed down on him as he realized the spell had failed. He was still too tiny, too fragile in their shadows. Nothing happened. Something shifted on his head, and Dean reached up. He brushed a dried herb off his head and held it out on his palm. It was barely a crumb to the humans, but it covered his entire hand. Angrily, he closed his fist in a crushing grip and pulverized it. His grip was stronger than any human’s, but it didn’t matter. It would never matter. His shoulders slumped down, the feeling of being small rushing in on him all over again. He saw Bobby slam down a ruler inches away in his mind’s

The train station was busy. Crowds bustled through, people greeting one another or saying their farewells. Trains pulled slowly in and out of the station, heralded by throngs of passengers bearing luggage, tickets, and impatience. Steam filled the air, escaping through the high glass windows letting the sunlight in or coiling gently around the sculpted stone ceiling far above. One figure, in a simple, practical dress and a round felt hat, set a large bag down on the floor and leaned in close to the ticket counter. “One ticket for the 11:15 train, please,” she requested. The ticket clerk didn’t respond right away; she was too busy staring at the woman’s shoulder, where a tiny metal doll with a clock in its chest sat, one little metallic hand gripping the thin ribbon of her necktie. “What’s that?” the clerk blurted. Immediately blushing red at her own impertinence, the young ticket clerk soon stammered, “Sorry, Miss, er, that was the 11:15 you said…?” Though the woman simply smiled