me a story,” she says, petulant and adorable. But I can never come up with one in time for bedtime.
So here is a
story for all of time, for we who look for magic in an every day existence.
This is a
story of you in every person, a story of every person in you.
story is wholly true. For the story goes:
born on a certain day at a certain time when certain planets aligned and
certain events occurred. You were born in a time of peace and in a time of war.
You were born into something rich and into some destitution. You were born in love and hate and pride and despair. And the world continues to revolves around
those axes of contradictions. But the fact remains that you were born.You were meant to exist in the here and the now.
lived through the stages. You survived the number of years you did. You made
memories you’ll never forget and memories long forgotten and you’ll never
really stop to wonder where forgotten memories go because new ones form and
will always form. Epic moments come in small events as well as big ones. Little
things people do and say will affect you in the biggest possible way. You will
move in and around people and in around you, people will pass by. Some won’t
even see you, won’t even acknowledge you. And that’s okay — their minds are
full of their own thoughts and their own predicaments. That doesn’t mean you’re
invisible. Just because a tree that falls in an abandoned forest isn’t heard
doesn’t mean the tree doesn’t exist and neither does it change the fact that
the tree fell.
And you will
fall too. You’ve fallen many times before. You’ve broken down and you’ve broken
up and you’ve gone down the darkest of paths and been so very alone, all by
yourself. And life just seemed too hard then and life just seems so hard now
because you’re still struggling and nobody sees that. Though you have seen a
lot. You have seen incredible injustices take place and you have seen people
break themselves into pieces for existentially nothing. You’ve seen hurricanes
destroy everything in their path and death has brushed you by too often to
count to the point that you’ve squashed the memories.
forgotten memories go where nobody wants to look for them.
isn’t a story about the morbid and the morose. This is a story about magic in
an every day existence.
that hard. You just have to believe. It’s asking for a lot — yes. Belief, after
all, is your own hand reaching into your chest and tightening a fist around
your soul and saying: yeah, you exist.
Look at your
own hands for a second or two. Just look at them. They tell better stories than
I can ever hope to.
the magical thing in the every day existence: you are here and you exist.
magic. Intertwined and intermingling with magic and magic and the best part
is…you haven’t realised it just yet.
hi! i am relatively new to the witch/witchcraft community and i am having a little trouble getting started! if anyone would like to help me out, that would be great. i am interested in nature magic, earth magic, fauna magic, crystal magic, sygil magic, music magic and candle magic!
Virginia Frances Sterrett’s delicate, almost haunting, illustrations transport one from ordinary unromantic life (the artist spent most of all her short life in midwest America) to magical and ethereal realms.
My brother has loved all of the “upgrades” I’ve given him over the past couple of weeks using grandpa’s magic wishing stone. I’ve made sure of it. He loved it, of course, when I gave him all of those muscles, that six-pack, those biceps, that perky bubble butt. He loved it when I changed his face to make him even cuter than he was before, when I upgraded him from being boy-next-door cute to supermodel hot.
He even loved being told that from now on, he was going to obey my every word. He was going to be grateful to me for all of the upgrades I had given him, because he knew that I could take them all away with one wish, just as easily as I had given them to him in the first place. He struggled a bit with that one, but he was much more agreeable to it once I wished a couple of his IQ points away.
Now for my latest upgrade, I’ve made him think that his magically-enhanced body tastes just as delicious as it looks, that it tastes like candy. He’s spent the past hour practically giving himself a tongue bath, flexing his biceps and kissing them all over, burying his tongue deep in his pits and savoring the taste like it’s the best fucking thing he’s ever had.
I clear my throat to remind him that I’m still there in the room with him. He looks up at me and gives his bicep one more lick. He puts his arm up behind his head, his armpit now on full display for me.
“You want a taste of this, bro?” he moans in his sultriest voice, “It’s all yours.”
My boyfriend is very sick right now, but he lives in another city. I’m trying to find spells to help him. He has a very powerful cough, his throat hurts, and he has a lot of back pain. Any help or prayers would be so very much appreciated. His name is Charlie.