Alexander Jason "Alec" McDewin's Questionnaire

I live in the suburbs of New York City, in a small house that I inherited from my late grandfather. The house is located south of Manhattan, near the campus of Pendragon University: the college I attend. That's the reason I came to live here, to more comfortably attend college. It was the same college my grandfather attended in his day.

The house is small but comfortable, with two stories, an attic, and a basement. On the first floor you can find the living room, kitchen, dining room, and a toilet. On the second floor there’s the master bedroom, two smaller bedrooms, a small office, and a bathroom. The attic is used for storage space, while the basement is the laundry room.

Right now my money comes from the occasional gig with a small indie cover-band I’m a part of: The Rohirrim. Were four members in total: Carl the drummer, Albert the guitarist and vocalist, Oswald at the keyboard, and finally me the bassist. Carl and Oswald are cool, but honestly Albert can be a bit of a dick. Even when me and the other two agree on something, he has to be the contrarian and insist we refuse a gig just because the place isn’t “hip enough”. We need the money Albert, we can’t afford to be picky right now, for fucks sake. Despite our differences, we still manage to make pretty decent music, if I say so myself.

Nothing would probably make me happier than finding out how my grandfather died and why… Finding who or what killed him seems impossible, though: it happened years ago, when I was just a child, finding anything would be a miracle. Hope is the last to die, though.

Second best would be becoming as great of a wizard as he once was. He was lauded by many as the greatest magician of his generation. What would I give to be half as good at magic as he was, I can only manage to animate a few objects as of now. But I can still dream of one day becoming as powerful as people say he once was, I just need to continue practicing.

The most defining event of my life would most likely be the night my grandfather died, for sure. I remember it as if it were yesterday, even though at the time I was only 7 years old: it was a cold rainy night, even though it was in the middle of summer. Me and my parents were coming to visit, we arrived at his house and saw the police and an ambulance already there. My mother shielded me from view while my father tried to reach the officers, it took a while for them to get that he was the next of kin and to let him pass. I caught only a glimpse of a hand hanging limply from a stretcher as it was taken away.

My father is a serious and square man. He works a nine-to-five diligently, has done so for all of his life, and will continue to do so until retirement or death, whichever comes first. He has an almost symbiotic relationship with his armchair at this point, the routine is clockwork: he gets home, says hi to mom, and then sits down with a long “sigh”.

My mother is in a way the polar opposite of my father: while he’s serious, she’s a jokester; while he dresses in muted colors and almost always in exactly the same way (khakis, shirt, and tie), she’s always dressed in colorful fabrics and garish clothes. She doesn’t have a stable job though she does occasionally work as a children’s book illustrator.

My grandfather Jason has always been an inspiration for me, even before knowing he was a magician and actually following in his footsteps. One wonders how could such an interesting person conceive such a boring and bland person as my father, well so do I. My grandfather was the life of the party wherever he went, a positive presence in many people’s lives. It was a true tragedy when he passed away.