A Sprinkle Some

“Tell 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.

And this story is wholly true. For the story goes:

You were 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.

And you 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.

And forgotten memories go where nobody wants to look for them.

But this isn’t a story about the morbid and the morose. This is a story about magic in an every day existence.

Don’t you see?


Not yet?

It’s not 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.

Do you believe?

Look at your own hands for a second or two. Just look at them. They tell better stories than I can ever hope to.

And that’s the magical thing in the every day existence: you are here and you exist.

You are magic. Intertwined and intermingling with magic and magic and the best part is…you haven’t realised it just yet.

But if you do?


Your story thus begins…


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.”

Hello all,

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.

Thank you all so much, blessed be.