The light shown on Anya’s fingers. It curled around her palm and danced. This, she thought, was the sheer pleasure of having magic. But in the midst of her play, a shadow grew. It was not unexpected; it was the cost of doing magic, for it always begot shadows. But it never ceased to offer discomfort. If she could find a way to practice her craft and leave behind the adjacent darkness, she would. Anya was not fond of the dark, or shadows, or of the sense of unease that grew whenever she let the flickering brightness dance. But, too, there was a feeling of wholeness in her work. How could that be, such fulfillment when darkness lay about her? A constant wonder—the weight of it only born by extinguishing the light for a time until she could bear it again. Today was such a time. Anya took the light, and threw it at the darkness....
Once upon a time, a woman was useless. I should say, I suppose, that she felt useless. That would be the appropriate way to put it. But it would be pointless to tell this particular woman that she simply felt useless. She knew it. And, as you might have come across once or twice, it is difficult to tell someone who believes something so entirely that it is not true... that it is only a feeling . You could say, maybe, that (once upon a time) there was a woman who believed so entirely that she was useless. But you would be wrong. Fairy godmothers, on the other hand, are allowed to say anything . They are never wrong. And, when it comes to them , there is always a point . When a fairy godmother took an interest in the woman, the response was not what you might expect. Or maybe it is exactly what you would expect. She said, 'Oh, shit.' And then she said, 'Go away.' Because that is the ...
There was once a bird who found herself trapped underneath a thick canopy of forest trees. It was a horrible feeling. To fly beneath them for shelter and then find oneself hidden from the fresh breeze and the clear sky was enough to throw the little bird into a panic. She tweeted loudly again and again, flying as high as she could as she cried against the dampening echo that reverberated through sheets of leaves. A day and a night passed, and still she could find no exit through the forest ceiling. This was long enough for her panic to give way to exhaustion, and when she finally landed for more than a few seconds on a heavily shaded branch, she fell asleep. When she woke, she remembered her predicament. Fighting against her fear, she took several breaths. Then she looked about her. That was when she saw it. Shining in the distance. A small ray of light that had broken...