The Snail and the Witch

 Once upon a time there was a snail who sludged up the path of an enchanted forest. It was on a mission to see a witch. And what it wanted from the witch—what it wanted more than anything—was to be able to fly.

    But when it got to the witch's cottage, the place looked abandoned. The garden was all tangled with weeds, the front door was barred, and when the snail slid up the wall to have a look in through the window, all it could see was dust.

    The snail drooped down the wall, very disappointed. It had hoped that by now it would have at least experienced some sort of vertical levitation. The snail had come from rather far away, making it quite a long journey to the witch, and now it had all been for nothing.

    But then the snail heard a snort. Then a squeak. And then a raucous.

    The sound seemed to be coming from a metal pail that sat alongside the front door.

    The snail slid up the pail, and what do you think it saw?

    Down at the bottom of the pail was the witch! Only, the witch was very tiny, to be at the bottom of the pail.

    'Hello,' said the snail. 'Is this your usual size?'

    'No, it blasted well isn't,' said the witch. 'And this isn't my usual home, either. So do us a favor and let me ride on your back up the pail, will you?'

    The snail did as the witch asked, and once the it had the witch out the pail, the witch suddenly turned into her right size.

    'Ah, that's better. You see, I was wondering what it was like to be very small, and so I became tiny. But I accidentally fell into the pail on the way down to a small size, and everyone knows you can't cast a spell from the bottom of a pail, so I have been in the bottom of it for a very long time. Serves me right for wanting to be something I'm not.' She dusted herself off. 'And what can I do for you, snail? It's free of payment, as you have done me a great favor.'

    The snail looked at the witch, and thought about flying. Then it thought about what it was. And about sludging about on the ground. And suddenly, sludging seemed a very fine thing.

    'No, thank you, Ms. Witch. I'm happy as I am.'

    And as the snail sludged away along the enchanted forest path, it realized that it was very happy as it was indeed.

Popular posts from this blog

The Library at the Edge of the Universe

 There was, of course, a library at the edge of the universe. It was built to fit the space. That space, for the moment, was infinite. But it was the kind of infinite that was smaller than other kinds of infinite — both space and libraries are funny that way.     This library had an agenda. Most do. But this one's was more specific than most. It wanted to hold all the books in the universe, whether they liked it or not. And it got the books by poking and prodding the universe in all kinds of different ways, until it gave up the literary ghost. Well, all the literary ghosts.     So. There sat a library at the edge of space that housed all the books in the universe. It mostly sat, anyway. Sometimes it stood. Occasionally it stretched a bit. And on two occasions, yawns were recorded as galaxies doing a funny little seismic shift.     It might yawn again. In an eon or two.     Because it is waiting.     It's been waiting for an infinite amount of time. One of the smaller infinites
Read more

The Shadows

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.   The next breath, and it was gone.   Elimination brought palpable relief, while at the same time she felt the loss of
Read more

As Usual

 Once upon a time, when the air was colder and the nights more dark, a fire gleamed in the distance.      It moved and crept and finally it swept, the whole world engulfed in it's flames.     When the flames died, all that remained was char. For a time.     Until the first shoot rose. The thought of fire died a death made only by forgetting.     And, as usual, the world went on.
Read more