Tag: magic

The Art of Happily Ever After

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Once upon a time, a group of knights received a distress call. “It’s another princess in trouble,” the leader of the knights said. “Who wants to deal with this one?”

“I helped with the last one,” Sir Cadmium said. “The one who turned herself into a goldfish somehow. It took me forever to find the right fish in that fountain. It had fourteen basins, and every single one was filled with goldfish. I had to hold them up one at a time for the prince to kiss, and it made him really grumpy.”

“I helped with the princess stuck in a tree. Why on earth she wished for wings, I don’t know,” Sir Ultramarine said. “The wings were all tangled in the branches and they didn’t want me to snap a single twig of the tree because it was some rare ancient important tree. I was there for twenty hours, and she complained every minute.”

“Don’t look at me,” Sir Ochre said. “I just got back from rescuing those twin princesses last week. The ones lost in the cave looking for some sort of fairyland ball, you remember? They didn’t want to be rescued, not matter what their parents said. They kept ordering me to leave, and the king would order me right back in. In the end, they gave up, but by then my feet hurt from running back and forth and fetching them things so they wouldn’t starve to death out of stubbornness. I still have blisters on my blisters.”

The leader looked around the circle. “Sir Umber is still tracking down the princess who ran away with the unicorns, and Sir Viridian is rescuing the princess who wished to be a mermaid. That leaves you, Sir Sap.”

“Why do I have to be Sir Sap. Can’t I be Sir Thalo or Sir Payne?”

The leader shrugged. “It’s the King who knights us. He picks the names.”

“Fine.”

“You’ll take the assignment? Great. Here’s the folder.”

Sir Sap jumped out of his seat. “That’s not what I meant. I helped the princess who got turned into a baby and crawled into a cupboard and fell asleep and no one could find her and…”

It was too late. Everyone had already left. Sir Sap sighed and picked up the folder. As always, the king had written the details in an awful scrawl that was nearly impossible to read. The hand painted map was lovely, but impractical. Sir Sap sighed. Was it too late to go back to dental school?

Hours later, he was following the map, hoping to rescue a princess who was maybe stuck in a well or writing a will. It was a little confusing. The woods he was passing through were dark and scary, and there wasn’t really much of a path.

But, Sir Sap was a brave knight who wasn’t scared of the dark at all. And if he was, he wouldn’t tell anyone. He pulled out his lunch and decided to eat while he walked. He always felt braver when he was eating. It was a good thing being a knight had so many opportunities for exercise, or he’d probably weigh a thousand pounds.

Just then, he heard growling off to his left. He looked down. Perhaps eating a roast beef sandwich in a forest filled with who-knows-what was a bad idea. Something started crashing though the bushes, and it sounded like it was getting closer.

A bear crashed onto the path. Sir Sap threw his sandwich as hard as he could to the right. After the bear ran past, chasing the sandwich, Sir Sap ran to the left. He stopped to catch his breath under a tree. “Is the bear gone?” a voice asked from above.

Sir Sap looked up. A lady dressed in black was sitting up in the branches of the tree. A witch? “It’s gone,” he said. “Couldn’t you have magicked it away?”

“I’m an herbalist,” she said. She began to climb down. “I make potions. It’s a different kind of magic. It doesn’t work right away. You have to be patient. But it works better because I tailor the potions to the individual, so it’s just what you need and works just right for you.” She jumped from the lowest branches.

“It is good to meet you, Madam Herbalist. I have great respecct for your craft. Could you tell me the way out of the forest? My map isn’t very clear.”

She pointed the way, and soon Sir Sap was able to rescue the princess stuck inside a rosebush on a hill. It was a massive, enchanted rosebush, and he ended up needing to find a prince to cut the whole thing down with tiny enchanted silver scissors. Organizing the witches and wizards and silversmiths and the very confused prince to find the solution took days.

Luckily, the princess and prince fell in love over the whole ordeal, and looked like they’d probably live happily ever after. This was always the best possible scenario, because it meant one less princess getting into trouble. Sir Sap went home, happy with the knowledge that all went well, and he wouldn’t have to rescue the next princess in trouble. It was probably Sir Ultramarine’s turn.

When he reached the forest, the herbalist was out picking leaves off of some harmless looking weeds. Suddenly, Sir Sap was struck by how normal it was. Here was someone who climbed a tree when she was chased by a bear, and didn’t ask her fairy godmother to change her into a bird or a dragon or a snowman in the middle of the summer.

Sir Sap realized he was tired of being a knight. He was tired of trying to help people who kept misusing powerful magic and never learning their lesson. He was tired of princesses. “Is it hard to learn to be an herbalist?” he asked.

“Well, it takes patience. You don’t learn everything all at once. But, if you like helping people and are good at figuring things out, it might be just right for you.” She smiled and picked up her basket. “I wouldn’t mind having an apprentice to help out at the shop. I have more business than I can deal with right now.”

“I’ll return within the week. I just need to hand paint a letter of resignation,” Sir Sap said. He was already mentally composing the letter. He was thinking of using one-point perspective to draw attention to the words “I quit” in the center of the page. He would sign it John, and be Sir Sap no more. And maybe, if things worked out just right, he’d find his own happily ever after.

The Short Shelf Life of Cookies

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Once there was a baker who was so tired that she mixed all her ingredients up and somehow ended up baking oatmeal raisin cookies that were alive. They didn’t have arms and legs like the little gingerbread boy from the story, so they didn’t get up and run away.

Instead, they sat and watched her with their little raisin eyes, and shrieked in terror if she stood too close. So, she left them to cool and left to make another batch. She was more careful with the second batch, and the cookies were perfectly normal.

She picked one up. No shrieking. She bit into it. There was a lot of screaming, but it was coming from the other side of the room.

The baker put the nice, normal cookie down with a sigh, and turned to face the terrified cookies still cooling on the cookie sheet.

“I’m not going to eat you,” she said. “I don’t eat anything that can ask me not to eat it.”

“Please don’t eat us,” the cookies said at once.

“I won’t. There. See? Everything is fine.” She stepped closer. The cookies watched her, but didn’t yell.

“So you’ll let us go?” one of the cookies asked.

“Go where?” the baker looked around the room. “Where would you go?”

“Someplace safe for cookies,” the cookie said.

The baker thought for a moment. Was there a place like that? “You know, the shelf life for cookies isn’t very good, but I could probably freeze you for up to a year.” She brought the cookies over to the freezer and set them inside. “See?”

“Too cold!” the cookies said.

“Well, then you’ll probably only last a week or so. That’s not long.”

“Can you take us to see the world?” one of the cookies asked.

“The world? In a week?”

And that is why the baker ended up sneaking a briefcase full of cookies into the movie theater. When the lights went out, she opened it on her lap and turned it to face the screen. She shushed the cookies when one of them started to talk, and they soon settled in to watch the film.

She had to close the briefcase a few times when someone passed by, but overall, the movie was a success. The trip to the library was less so. The cookies were completely unimpressed by the shelves of books.

“I don’t hear any stories,” one of the cookies said.

“I don’t see any stories,” another said.

The baker closed the briefcase and left the library. At the art museum, they were checking bags, so she turned and left without the cookies seeing anything at all. When she got back to her car, they were very disappointed, and complained loudly until she closed the briefcase again.

In the park, a dog ran up to the briefcase, barking and wagging his tail. The baker barely managed to close the briefcase before the dog ate any of the cookies. It was a very close call.

“We don’t want to see the world any more,” the cookies decided. “Let’s go back to the movies.”

The baker took a week off, and spent most of it at the movies with a briefcase full of living oatmeal raisin cookies. The cookies had many interesting questions about the movies they watched. They didn’t really understand the idea of fiction, and believed that every story they watched was completely true.

And so, after a film about a magical world, the cookies had many questions about magic. “Can we do magic?” one asked.

“Maybe,” the baker said. “Talking cookies already sounds kind of magical to me.”

“Oh.”

The cookies began to whisper. They muttered to each other through the next two movies, but refused to tell her what they were talking about. The baker was a little nervous.

Everything seemed well when she covered them with a tea towel and left them on the counter that evening. She checked the movie schedule for the next day, and made a plan for what to see. The cookies probably only had a few good days left.

She paused to wonder what the effects of mold would be on the poor cookies. Would it make them lose their memories, or would they suddenly be angry or act like zombies? What would zombie cookies act like?

She never found out. The cookies were gone in the morning. Had they been eaten? Had they figured out magic and used it to transport themselves somewhere else? Maybe they started to mold a little early, and mold made talking cookies disappear?

The baker missed the cookies, but was rather relieved that she didn’t have to deal with zombie cookies. She really didn’t want to know what happened to someone bit by a zombie cookie.

After the cookies left, the baker was much more careful when she cooked, especially when she was tired. She also started watching more movies on her days off. And she never ate another oatmeal raisin cookie again. Even if they didn’t talk, it still felt like the raisins were watching her.

Charlie’s Room: Visiting Miss Marta

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“Do you have your coat?” Isaac asked. “And your toothbrush?”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “You already asked that.”

“I think I’m worrying too loudly. I didn’t hear you before. What did you say the last time I asked?”

“I have them. Mom gave me a list to pack with, you know. I have everything I need. Are you checking that Mom remembered to pack everything, too?” Charlie folded his arms across his chest and raised his chin.

Isaac smiled. “I asked her too, but she said to stop asking and check on you.”

“You can tell her I’m just fine.” Charlie patted his suitcase.

“If you need help with anything…” Isaac paused in the doorway.

“I think Mom is calling you,” Charlie said. Isaac laughed.

All too soon, Marianne and Charlie had the car all packed and they were driving away. Isaac waved even after they turned the corner. Finally he dropped his hand with a sigh.

“Home alone?” Miss Marta was leaning on the top of her back gate.

“They’re visiting Marianne’s Aunt Doris for a week.” Isaac walked across the front lawn.

Miss Marta nodded. “And you have work and couldn’t go with them.”

“That’s right.”

Miss Marta stepped through the gate and wiped her hands on her apron. “Why don’t you come on in for a cup of cocoa? You look like you aren’t ready to go home to an empty house. I feel that way sometimes when my grandson goes home after a visit. I think it’s the contrast that does it. Most of the time I’m fine.”

Isaac followed her inside as she chattered. Already he was feeling a little better. Miss Marta reminded him of his grandmother. She radiated that same feeling of ancient wisdom and watchful care.

The hot cocoa tasted nearly the same, too. “Does your cocoa have mint in it?”

“Lavender. It’s calming.” She sat in the chair next to the couch, clutching her own mug.

Isaac looked around. There were photographs everywhere. Most of them seemed to be taken in places far, far away. “Did you visit all of these places?”

“Oh yes. When I was younger, I did a lot of traveling. There were so many interesting places to see.”

Shifting his mug to one hand, he picked up a small picture from an end table. He blinked, squinted, and looked again. It was a colorful marketplace, with a number of stalls selling things like cloth and fruit. In the background, it looked like there was a dragon peeking out from under a tablecloth. “Is that really a dragon?”

Miss Marta leaned forward. Isaac turned the picture around and held it out so that she could see it better. She smiled and leaned back in her chair. “It looks like one, doesn’t it? I don’t really remember. I do remember someone was selling books at that market, and I bought as many as I could carry home.”

“It is difficult to fit everything into your luggage.” Isaac set the picture down and sipped his cocoa.

Miss Marta smiled. “I had my ways to make it work.”

“Magic?”

“Perhaps. Or maybe I just sent everything to myself through the mail.” She grinned a little wider.

Isaac smiled too. Ancient wisdom, watchful care, and a sense of humor. Just like his grandmother. He settled back into his chair. He said, “Tell me more about your travels,” just like he used to say to his grandmother, “Tell me a story.”

And Miss Marta did. And Isaac didn’t feel quite so lonely. That evening, Charlie and Marianne called to tell him they arrived safely.

“And we stopped for lunch on the way. Did you do anything fun?” Charlie asked.

“I visited Miss Marta. She gave me cocoa and told me about the pictures in her living room.”

“I guess that could be fun,” Charlie said.

“It was.”

“I’m glad you’re not sad.”

“Me too.” Isaac smiled at the phone, even though Charlie couldn’t see it.

“When we get home, I’ll send her a thank you card,” Charlie said. And even though he was home alone, Isaac decided this day was one of his top ten favorite days ever.

An Abnormally Good Hair Day

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The week before her appointment, Brooklynn told all her friends about the haircut. She told them that the hairstylist was probably partly magical and maybe a little sparkly. She said that the hair salon was only visible to humans on the day after a blue moon. And most importantly, the hairstylist promised her a haircut too beautiful to be seen.

On the day after the haircut, her friends all waited at the park where they usually met to walk to school together. “What do you think it will look like?” Carrie asked.

“Like her hair is shorter.” Jane rolled her eyes. “That’s all a hair cut does. It just makes your hair shorter.”

Susan giggled. “But will it look nice?”

“I would never let anyone cut my hair. Too many things could go wrong.” Bella tossed her long blond hair over her shoulder.

Jane snorted. “Hair grows. Even terrible haircuts aren’t terrible for long.”

Just then, Brooklynn came around the corner wearing a giant hat. The hat covered every strand of her hair and was securely fastened to her head by a wide ribbon tied in a bow under her chin. It was impossible to see her new haircut at all.

“Is it really that terrible?” Susan asked. “You can show us, we won’t laugh.”

“No, it’s actually too beautiful to be seen.” Brooklynn patted the side of her hat. “It’s really the loveliest haircut you’ve ever seen. If I took my hat off, the sun would be so shocked by the beauty of my haircut that it would forget to shine. I really can’t risk it.”

Bella twirled a strand of her long hair around one of her fingers. “That doesn’t even make sense. Haircuts don’t make your hair prettier really. They just change how long it is.”

“Nope. Haircuts can make your hair look a lot better.” Brooklynn pointed at her hat-covered hair. “Yesterday you could look at my hair, but today it’s too beautiful to be seen. In fact, my hair is so lovely now that it glows. If I took my hat off, you’d have to squint because that’s how brightly my hair shines.”

“Real hair doesn’t glow. Are you sure the hairstylist didn’t glue a wig on your head when you weren’t looking?” Carrie leaned forward and pointed at Brooklynn’s hat. “Or maybe you’re just making this all up, and you’re embarrassed to show us that your hair looks exactly the same as it did yesterday. I bet you didn’t get a haircut at all.”

Brooklynn clutched at the edges of her hat and laughed. “Of course I got a haircut. I’m not a liar. I’d show you, but it’s really too beautiful to be seen. If I took my hat off, the ground would shake because the earth would be moved by how beautiful my haircut is. I’m trying to keep you safe, because we’re friends. Even if you don’t believe me.”

“I think this can be easily resolved.” Jane folded her arms and sighed. “Just show us your haircut, Brooklynn. You can’t wear a hat in school, you know.”

“You can if you bring a note. My hairstylist wrote me one. Honestly, my hair is really too beautiful to be seen.”

“Then what’s the point?” Carrie asked. “If no one can see it, it might as well be too ugly to be seen.”

Brooklynn shrugged. “I feel beautiful. That’s good enough for me.”

Suddenly Bella darted forward and tugged at the bow holding Brooklynn’s hat in place. Brooklynn grabbed the edge of her hat, but she was a moment to late. Bella tugged the hat away and stepped back.

The sky went dark. The ground shook. Streetlights flickered on, but their light was pale compared to the glow coming from the top of Brooklynn’s head. It was like trying to look at the sun.

Brooklynn snatched her hat back and put it on her head. The ground stopped shaking and the sun was shining once more. “I told you,” Brooklynn said crossly as she tied the ribbon into a bow again. “My haircut is too beautiful to be seen.”

The other girls blinked.

Bella wiped the tears away. “How long does it take for a haircut to grow out?”

“Weeks.” Jane squinted at her watch. “We need to get going. We’re going to be late to school if we don’t leave now.”

Brooklynn led the way, and her friends followed after her, still blinking.