Title: Small Magic
Genre: Fantasy
Rating: G
Thoughts: I started with a rough idea, which formed into something cool, and then I went and did something – and forgot where I was going. This is what I finished.
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Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘mind over matter’? I learned what that really meant when I turned eleven. I’d always been accused of having an ‘active’ imagination, but when I turned eleven it took on a whole new meaning.
My birthday happened like it always did; with cake and presents and singing, but it was when I was blowing out the candles that I first had the inkling something was – different. Most of the time I made outrageous wishes for my birthday, but this year I settled for wishing that my two friends, Molly and Candice, would stop fighting. They were sitting at opposite ends of the table, refusing to speak to each other. Molly would start talking anytime Candice did so you had to pick which one to listen to. The day had not been going well.
As I blew out the candle something funny happened. I made my wish and – I burped. Everyone giggled and I did too.
“Too much orange soda!” My mom laughed.
While we handed out cake, Molly looked at Candice, Candice looked at Molly, and they both said, “I’m sorry,” in stereo! It was the best birthday present.
We ate the cake sitting on the back porch of my house, all of us girls, just enjoying the beautiful spring day. I had a sleepover and we made a tent in the den and I didn’t think about my birthday wish. I didn’t think about it until several days later. I was riding my bike down the lane in front of my house. It’s a little country road and no one drives down it except us so I was doing as fast as I could down the middle. For no reason at all I fell! I wasn’t wearing my helmet and I knew the fall would hurt a lot. I thought about not falling, wouldn’t it be better if I were just flopping down in bed?
I hit the pavement and bounced. Not like when you throw a rock at the ground and it bounces up and settles; I bounced like when you bellyflop on a bed! The ground under me was soft and springy. I didn’t hurt at all. I rolled around on the ground for a little while before getting up out of the circle of squishy road. It looked just like it had before. I touched the road with my shoe. It was still soft. I concentrated on it being hard again. I touched the road with my shoe again. It was hard.
Grabbing my bike, I went back to the house and ran up to my room. I sat in front of my mirror and looked at my face to see if there were any warts or scratches. No warts on my face. I hadn’t become a witch. No scratches. I hadn’t hit my head. That was it. I could do magic.
Now I know older people find it hard to believe, so I don’t tell them. It’s like Peter Pan; sometimes you’re just too old to believe anymore. Like Susan and Narnia. Because I’d seen all the important cartoons, I set out and made a list for myself.
- I got one extravagant wish. Any time anyone wishes for everything they want, it’s never good so I decided I would use my magic for one thing.
- I couldn’t tell anyone about it. You see it in movies! The hero tells one person their secret and eventually someone spills the beans! Or gets you in trouble.
- I had to help other. That’s what you do when you can do stuff other people can’t, right? And it made me feel like I was a Hero. Like Wonder Woman or Batman or something.
Those were my three rules.
They were even easy to follow. Sure there were times I really just wanted a cookie, or to make the kid that makes fun of the way I write that I have to trade papers with in English stop making fun of me, but those would break my very important rules.
I did help people though. The kid whose locker was always stuck. The girl that gets picked on in the lunch room. I even helped someone whose meter was going to run out as a cop was getting ready to write them a ticket. Small things, but you have to start out somewhere right?
When I turned fifteen things changed again. We moved into the city and my whole life felt like it was falling apart. I had no friends. If I thought one person making fun of my handwriting was bad, I now had a running commentary on just how awful everything about me was. In short, I went from happy to miserable.
We lived in a nice town house, but it didn’t have a back porch with a view of the countryside. After school I would walk down a few blocks where kids painted the sides of buildings and people gave you crazy looks if you were clean. It was where I went to help people. I couldn’t do anything extravagant. I’d added that rule.
- One wish for yourself.
- Don’t tell anyone.
- Be a hero.
- Nothing extravagant.
If suddenly all the homeless people had homes and food and jobs someone would notice. But no one noticed if pizza boxes with hot, steaming pizza were left in an alley, or if the kid playing basketball found a new basketball.
In four years I’d learned a lot about my magic. It wasn’t so much magic as I – invented things. I sometimes changed them, like I did with the road that first day, but I did much better when I needed to create things. Pizza. A basketball. Shoes. A jacket. I kept things small; you never know how a small act of charity will affect the bigger picture.
I’m never going to be a masked hero, someone who swings in and saves the day, but I’m happy working small magic and making small changes. Most of all, I like the smiles.
