The Magic
Once upon a time,
I dreamed of cities in the clouds,
And castles by the sea.
Brooks bubbled with naiad mirth,
Dryads ensouled each tree.
But now I'm grown,
My days too full,
Of solid, earthbound care
To dance with pixies in the woods -
Fluttering, sparkling in the air.
And yet, at times, my child's eyes,
Ignite with mysterious glee.
The shadow of that magic spark,
Brings me to my knees.
It strikes my soul, the veil is rent,
I am born anew,
With wide and wondering eyes;
I revel in the things I knew,
Once upon a time.
In the Wild Woods
Once upon a time, there were two little girls named Clare and Grace. Clare and Grace lived with their mother and father in a cozy little house next to the Wild Woods.
One day, Clare said to Grace, “Come on, Gracie, let’s go for a walk in the Wild Woods.”
Grace thought for a moment and said, “I don’t think Daddy would like us to go into the woods all alone.”
“Hmmm,” said Clare, “I know! We’ll take our kitties with us! Then we won’t be alone.”
“Good thinking, Clare,” Grace said.
And off they marched, with their kitties following behind them like furry little shadows. Into the Wild, Wild Woods they wandered, skipping and laughing until the trees laughed right along with them with gleeful rustles of their dawn-dappled leaves. Presently they came to a large, bright clearing, filled with the most beautiful wildflowers imaginable, in every color of the rainbow; a riot of reds and purples with splashes of yellow, and even some hints of blue. Enormous, pure white butterflies fluttered from flower to flower.
Dizzy with delight, the girls gathered up the jewel-like flowers in heaping armfuls and braided them into garlands that they looped into necklaces and crowns.
“We are the Princesses of the Wild Woods!” they sang, joining hands and dancing until they were breathless and rosy-flushed. Meanwhile, the kitties pounced at the dainty butterflies, but the fairy-like creatures managed to stay just out of reach no matter how high or fast the cats leaped.
Little did the girls know that this magical meadow was jealously guarded by a cruel ogre, who did not like sharing his beautiful flowers. What the ogre did like was eating little girls for supper, especially juicy, tender, sweet little girls like Clare and Grace. So when the ogre heard their girlish, gleeful laughter drifting through the open windows of his castle, he rubbed his hands together in avaricious anticipation. Licking his lips, he donned his big stomping boots and tromped with heavy footsteps through the woods and towards the meadow.
Now cats can hear things and feel things that people can’t, and the kitties heard that ogre coming a mile away. They began to yowl piteously and rub up against the girls’ ankles. But Clare and Grace were too busy to pay attention, and they just kept dancing and singing, until suddenly the ground shook and a dark shadow loomed over them. The butterflies all flew away and even the flowers seemed to furl up in fear as the ogre strode into the clearing.
“Uh oh,” said Grace.
“Be brave, Grace,” whispered Clare, not feeling brave at all. She looked around for the kitties, but they had vanished into the trees.
“HOW DARE YOU PICK MY FLOWERS?” the ogre boomed through sharp yellow teeth.
Clare wiped a fleck of ogre spittle off her face.“I’m very sorry, sir.” (She always tried to be polite.) “We didn’t know the flowers belonged to anybody. We promise not to pick any more.”
“NOT. GOOD. ENOUGH,” snarled the ogre, biting off each word. “YOU MUST PAY FOR WHAT YOU HAVE TAKEN!”
“But we’re only little girls,” Grace chimed in, “we don’t have anything to give you.”
The ogre smiled, a vicious, ugly smile, “THEN I’M AFRAID I’LL HAVE TO EAT YOU FOR SUPPER!” and he scooped them up, put them in his pocket and stomped back through the woods towards his castle.
It was dark and bumpy and very, very smelly in the ogre’s pocket, and the girls were frightened almost to tears. But presently they peeked out, and saw that the kitties were following behind them at a discreet distance.
“Oh Clare,” cried Grace, “What are we going to do?”
“Don’t worry,” Clare said, “I think I have a plan.” And she whispered her plan into Grace’s ear.
All too soon, they arrived at the Ogre’s castle, a dark dismal edifice in the deepest depths of the Wild Woods.
“I’VE BROUGHT SUPPER!” The ogre bellowed to his wife, as he dangled the girls in front of him for her perusal, like a brace of fresh-caught rabbits.
“Oh, goody, goody!” said the ogre’s wife, “I’ll put some water on to boil!”
“No, no, ” the ogre snapped, “These girlies are tender and juicy - let’s roast them!”
“Boil!” snipped the wife, mostly just to be contrary.
“ROAST!”
“BOIL, BOIL, BOIL!”
The two ogres screamed and fussed at each other, until finally they both drew a deep breath and pronounced at the same time: “BARBECUE!” and danced with glee. T
The ogre’s wife started towards the kitchen, but Clare yelled, “STOP, WAIT!” so loudly that both ogres actually did stop what they were doing to look at her.
With measured calm, Clare said, “I know you are in a hurry to eat us, and I’m sure you must be very hungry after a long day of ogre-ing. But I feel obliged to tell you a VERY IMPORTANT SECRET.”
“WELL?” said the ogre’s wife “Go on! Tell us!”
“I really shouldn’t...” Clare paused dramatically, “But since you seem like such very nice ogres... I will break my solemn vow of secrecy.”
“WHAT IS IT?” bellowed the ogre, shaking her till her teeth rattled.
“Well,” Clare lowered her voice into a whisper and the ogres leaned in.“If little human girls are cooked just the right way, with all the proper herbs and spices, after marinating for just the right time, whoever eats them will live forever.”
“Forever?” The ogres gasped, astonished. Ogres are very cruel, and greedy, and strong; but they are not very bright.
“Oh yes, ” Grace piped up, “but we are the only ones who know the correct recipe. It is a very old family secret. ”
“And we will share it with you,” added Clare, “but only if you promise to never eat another child after you eat us.”
“Oh, we promise,” lied the ogres in unison, feeling terribly clever.
“Good, that’s settled then,” said Clare. “Now, the first thing we need is a very special, rare herb that can only be picked in one place. And I have to pick it at the stroke of midnight, or else the magic will be lost. So you’ll have to let us go and find it. Then we’ll come back and give you the rest of the recipe.
Unfortunately, even ogres aren’t quite that stupid. “Ha!” snorted Mr. Ogre, “Oh no you don’t, Miss Clever. You can go, but the other little girl stays. And if you are not back sunrise tomorrow morning, we will EAT HER UP. And then we will find YOU and EAT YOU UP TOO!”
“Uh oh,” said Grace.
“Be brave,” whispered Clare, giving her a hug and a kiss. Then the ogre picked Clare up and threw her out the front door, slamming it behind her.
Clare picked herself up off the ground and brushed the dirt from her hands and knees. She was crushed; her plan hadn’t worked out quite like she had hoped, and now poor Grace was all alone with the terrible ogres.
“What will I do?” Clare asked nobody in particular, and she put her face in her hands and let herself cry for exactly ten seconds. As she wiped her nose on her sleeve, she felt a tickling on her ear and a raspy little tongue licked her nose.
“Oh, kitty!” Clare cried, “You came back!” and she crushed the cat into a clumsy little girl hug. The kitty looked at her with large, wise eyes, then nudged her less than gently with her head. Clare got to her feet, rubbed her eyes, and took a deep breath.
“Well, what now?” Clare looked expectantly at her furry friend. Her jaw dropped when the kitty beckoned with one paw, then bounded off into the woods. Flabbergasted, but feeling much better, Clare followed after.
Meanwhile, back in the ogre’s castle, Grace was trying her best to be brave, just like Clare had told her to. The ogre’s wife trundled her off to the dungeon, locked her up, and then came back with a giant plate of food - fattening her up, Grace supposed.
“Wait!” called Grace, before Mrs. Ogre could leave.
“What is it, girl?” growled the ogress.
“I mean no disrespect,” said Grace in careful tones, “but I couldn’t help but notice that your castle could use a good scrubbing. I mean, I’m sure your husband never helps out, and it is an awfully big castle. Why don’t you let me help you with your cleaning? I’m a really good cleaner!”
“Hmmm.” Mrs. Ogre grunted, “Well, I guess you might as well be useful while we’re waiting to eat you. And you’re right, that good-for-nothing husband of mine never lifts a claw aroundhere. Just don’t go working so hard you toughen up those tender muscles of yours.”
So the little girl and the giant ogress got to work, sweeping and scrubbing, and throwing away piles of rubbish. As they worked, Mrs. Ogre talked and talked and talked about everything and nothing. Grace listened thoughtfully, realizing with a pang of pity that the poor ogress was very lonely in her big castle, with no friends and just a lout of a husband who only liked to eat and sleep and then eat some more.
“I never knew little girls could be such good help!” Mrs. Ogre declared with a satisfied breath, as they took a break and surveyed the sparkling kitchen floor. “Maybe I can talk my husband into keeping you around. Of course, we’ll still eat your sister.”
“Of course,” Grace murmured agreeably, thinking to herself, ”Oh Clare, I really hope you have new plan!”
As she was thinking this, far away and deep in the woods, Clare scampered along after the determined little cat. As the shadows lengthened, the cat led her to a run-down little cottage. The kitty ran to the door and meowed twice. The door opened and a tiny, bent old woman peered out.
“Oh no, ” she sighed, “not another lost child,” and she lifted her walking stick towards Clare. But before she could cast a spell, the cat jumped up, knocked the stick out of her hand and meowed three more times.
“You don’t say?” The old woman said, “Well, I’ll see what I can do. ” She peered at Clare and added, “come into the house, dear, and tell me your story.”
Clare looked at the cat doubtfully, but the faithful feline nodded gravely, so Clare followed her inside. They sat down in comfortable rocking chairs near the fire, and the old woman leaned forward and fixed her eyes on Clare’s face expectantly.
“Are you a witch?” Clare blurted out, then wanted to kick herself for what must surely be a very rude question, thinking, ”well that’s how you get yourself turned into a frog, dummy.”
But the old woman just laughed. “No, dear one. I’m a fairy. Now, tell me your story, then I’ll tell you some of mine.”
So Clare told her about the flowers and the ogre, and the odd behavior of her hitherto-normal pet. The fairy leaned back as she listened, rocking gently in her chair
As the story wrapped up, the old woman sighed a deep sigh, and said sadly, “Oh dear, oh dear. To think I used to rule this forest! It was the loveliest, happiest place you can imagine. And then those ogres took everything over, and they have a dark magic in spite of their stupidity. So now the only thing I can do is transform lost children into butterflies so that they don’t get eaten.” Her twinkly eyes filled with tears, “But I don’t always find the children in time.”
“That’s terrible!” said Clare.
“Yes,” agreed the fairy, “but this cat of yours seems to think that we can somehow defeat these ogres once and for all.”
“My kitty said that? To you?” Clare asked, wide-eyed.
″ I am a fairy, girl,” the little woman chortled, “even if my magic is sorely limited.”
“Oh,” Clare sighed, “then I guess you can’t help me?”
“Magic is nice, but not always necessary,” pronounced the fairy, “You are a clever girl, and I am old enough to be wise. Let’s put our heads together and see what can be done.”
And so they set to work to think up a plan to save Grace and take back the Wild Woods for good.
Just as Clare and the fairy were piecing together the final details of their scheme, Grace and her unlikely new friend were finishing up the last of their marathon of cleaning.
“There!” Grace said, dusting off her hands. “doesn’t everything look nice?”
“It certainly does,” sighed Mrs. Ogre with a deep groan.
“Then why are you so sad?” asked Grace.
“Because tomorrow you will be cooked and eaten, and my castle will go back to being dark and gloomy. And even if I live forever, I don’t think I will ever be ha-ha-happy!” She finished in a choking sob and burst into tears.
“Oh, don’t cry!” exclaimed Grace, partly in sympathy and partly out of fear of drowning in the ogress’ giant teardrops, which were landing at her feet in noisy splashes. “Maybe we can think of a way to make you happy. And you don’t have to eat us, you know.”
“Wha-wha-what else can I do-ooh-ooh?” Mrs. Ogre wailed, “We are ogres, and ogres live in dank, dirty castles and eat tasty little children. My husband is perfectly content with this wretched, and I will never be able to talk him out of it.” She sniffled and wiped a paw across her snout. “But maybe I can help you escape?”
“No...” mused Grace, “That’s no good. Clare will still come back for me, and then she’ll be caught and eaten. And you’ll still be unhappy. And who knows what he would do to you.”
“Yes,” replied the ogress, patting Grace awkwardly on the head, ” I didn’t realize how miserable and lonely I was until you came, and I don’t want to live that way anymore.” She clenched her jaw. “We have no choice. When your sister comes back, we must kill my husband. It’s the only way.”
“You would help us? ” Grace exclaimed. “Really?”
“That’s what...” She hesitated, adding shyly ”...friends do, right?” The ogress grinned, and it was clear she was out of practice. The sight of all those crooked, sharp, yellow teeth was somewhat terrifying, but Grace smiled right back.
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! The ogre burst in, booming and looming into the room with a mighty roar that shook the walls and rattled the door on its hinges.
“YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD TRICK ME?” He slavered and snarled, “YOU WOULD KILL ME AND EAT BOTH GIRLS YOURSELF? YOU GREEDY, GREEDY WRETCH!”
He flew at his wife in a frenzy of teeth and claws and rage. She bared her teeth and flung Grace behind her towards the hall, screaming,“RUN, GIRL, RUN!”
And Grace ran, slipping and sliding and scrabbling down the freshly scrubbed flagstones, veering down a dark hallway into the shadows. Onward she raced, with a mounting panic squeezing her chest as she realized that she didn’t know the way out, and even if she could get out she didn’t want to leave the castle before Clare returned.
Just as despair threatened to overwhelm her, she saw the gleam of two bright eyes in the darkness, and heard a soft, clear, “Meow.”
Grace flung herself towards the sound.“Oh, kitty,” she cried, scooping up the cat and snuggling it, “Kitty, kitty, I’m so happy you’re here! But how will I find Clare? What am I going to do?”
“Meow,” said the cat, gracefully disentangling itself and bounding away down the corridor. Strangely cheered, Grace followed.
As Grace was escaping the ogre’s clutches, Clare and the fairy were drawing near the castle. From a hundred yards away they could hear snarling and roaring and crashing that sounded like a hundred thunderstorms.
“What’s going on?” Clare whispered to the fairy, who had shrunk herself to fit in Clare’s coat pocket.
“Marital spat,” the fairy squeaked, as wryly as one can squeak, “Your sister is in terrible danger. Run! Run!”
Clare raced to the door of the castle, but it was barred shut. She searched desperately for another way in, and saw her kitty leaping up through an open window. She followed, clambering up the stone wall and through the window in a flash. Inside, she blinked through the darkness, to see the cat’s tail disappearing around a corner. She followed, turning to run down a long corridor, lined with cracked, blackened mirrors.
The dreadful clatter of the ogre’s altercation stopped suddenly, followed by an ominous silence, which was broken only by a pattering footfall. A tiny figure appeared at the end of the hall.
“Grace!” Clare yelled, forgetting for a momenet everything but the beautiful sight of her sister running towards her.
“Clare!” Grace shrieked, giggling with relief and launching herself into her sister’s arms. They clung together, hugging and kissing each other’s grimy, tear-streaked faces.
The kitties greeted each other with dignified nods and waves of their tales. Standing guard, they watched the girls with wide, glowing eyes. Suddenly they meowed in unison, then turned and hissed, hackles up and tails frizzed out like bristle brushes.
STOMP! STOMP! BOOM! The ogre burst into view, teeth bared in a ferocious snarl. A river of drool streamed from the corner of his mouth, and his eyes blazed red in the shadows
“Uh oh, ” said Grace.
“Be brave,” whispered Clare. She turned to face the ogre, squared her shoulders, and yelled, “HEY!”
The ogre stopped short, confused, and Clare went on imperiously, “I found the herb, just like I promised. So stop all this silly fussing and take us to the kitchen and I will show you the recipe for everlasting life.”
The ogre was not used to being bossed around, and he didn’t much like it, but he wasn’t willing to risk losing his chance at immortality. He snorted a few times, like a vicious bull, then smiled a nasty, oozy kind of smile. With one swoop he picked up both girls and stomped to the kitchen, where he plunked them down roughly on the counter.
“TELL ME THE RECIPE!” He bellowed.
“There’s no need to be so rude,” Clare muttered. Grace shot her an incredulous look and mouthed, ”Don’t bait him!”
“All right,” Clare raised her voice, “first you must put the herb in a big pot of boiling water.”
The ogre filled a giant cauldron with water and set it over the fire to boil. Of course, it takes quite some time for water to boil, especially in a great big cauldron, and the ogre was both impatient and lazy. He paced the kitchen for a few minutes before deciding he needed a nap. He tied the girls up, so tightly that the rope cut into their wrists and made them bleed, then he lay down in the corner and promptly fell asleep. As soon as he was snoring soundly, the fairy crept out of Clare’s pocket and went to work untying the girls.
“Is that a fairy?” Grace’s eyes popped out of her head.
“I sure am!” chirped the fairy, and whispered a spell to make herself human-sized again (although she was still pretty tiny).
Rubbing their wrists, the girls searched the kitchen until they found a huge, wicked-looking axe. It was so heavy that it took both of them and the fairy to lift it, but somehow they managed to haul it over to the Ogre’s nap spot and raise it high in the air.
Grimly they steeled themselves, then counted together, “One...Two...Three..”
The axe swung home with a vicious, “thwack!”, chopping off the ogre’s head in a spurt of green, slimy blood. To be on the safe side, the girls scooped up the head and tossed it right into the cauldron, which was now boiling nicely.
“Ew,” Grace squinched up her nose, “Ogre head soup.”
“Yuck,” agreed Clare, “but we did it! Now let’s get out of here!”
“Wait!” cried Grace, “we have to find the ogress. She defended me. She saved me! She’s, well, sort of my friend.”
Clare was skeptical, but she nodded agreement, and together they raced down to the dungeon, where they found the ogre’s wife. The ogress was bruised, beaten, bloody, and chained to the wall. When she saw Grace, a toothy smile lit up her mangled face.
“My little friend! You came back!” She coughed, then whimpered with pain. The ogre had broken several of her ribs.
“Of course I did!” Grace cried, patting the ogress’s clawed paw, “Now, let’s get you free!”
But the chains were heavy and thick, and try as they might, the girls and their fairy friend could not budge them.
Grace wept with frustration, but the ogress just smiled again, and said, “It is well, my sweet girl. It is well. I would rather die here then go on living as an ogre. At least this way I am punished for my evil deeds, and I cannot hurt any more innocent souls.”
At these noble words, the fairy took pity on the creature and said, “I am so sorry, brave lady. I cannot save you as you are. But there is a way I can help you. I can set you free, and you will be beautiful, and the woods will be safe...”
The ogress nodded and bowed her head, and the fairy waved her stick with a flourish. In a flash the beaten monster disappeared, transformed into a magnificent butterfly that sparkled with every color of the rainbow.
The butterfly swooped and swirled, then flew out of the kitchen and down the winding corridor, leading the way out of the castle in a joyful aerial dance. The girls laughed and ran after her, with the fairy at their heels and the kitties following behind. Together they burst out of the desolate castle and into the cool green forest, bathed in bright, beautiful rays of sunlight. The butterfly twirled in the breeze for a moment, then flew away high into the sky.
“Goodbye! Goodbye!” shouted the girls, watching the beautiful, magical creature until it faded into the distant clouds.
The fairy led them back to the meadow, filled with fluttering white butterflies. With a wave of her stick, the butterflies transformed back into dazed but delighted children, who looked in wonder at the magic all around. Into each child’s ear, the fairy whispered instructions, and one by one they scampered off, back to loving, grateful families,
“And now, my dears,” The fairy smiled sweetly at Clare and Grace, “It is your turn to leave the Wild Wood. Just follow the cats, and they will lead you home by supper!”
Indeed they did make it home in time for supper, but they went to bed supperless and sternly chastised when their parents found out they had wandered off by themselves into the Wild Wood.
But even though they were in disgrace and hungry -- but not too hungry, after all, since their father smuggled them some bread and butter after lights out, and then their mother snuck up later to give them fresh-baked cookies and milk -- Clare and Grace snuggled contentedly into their beds, happy to be home and safe and loved.
And as for the kitties? Well, they had been very good indeed, so they each got a very nice supper, and an extra bowl of cream.
THE END
Sweets
The day had been long, dragging, draining. A constant parade of demands and distractions; death by a million paper cuts. The strain coiled in her shoulders and neck, angry and pulsing, sending jolts of pain into her temples. She stopped at the front door, took a deep breath, and braced herself for the next round. Behind her closed eyelids she could picture the scene inside. Toys strewn across every surface, empty applesauce packets, orange peels, and dirty socks stuffed inexplicably into random nooks and crannies. The children would be upon her in a clamoring cacophany of sweet, grimy faces and a million sticky fingers. She steeled herself, plastered on her best mommy smile, and opened the door.
And there he was, a Swiffer Wet-Jet in one hand and a tray of brownies in the other. His gray T-shirt was grimy with streaks of peanut butter and unmentionable child effluvia, but it stretched nicely across his firm, broad chest. The lemon-fresh smell of newly-mopped floors wafted towards her, with an undertone of homemade lasagna. She peeked behind him to see that the living room was pristine; not a toy in sight, every surface gleaming. The house was quiet and still, wrapped in a peaceful glow of cleanliness.
“I put the kids to bed early. Come have some lasagne and wine.”
His words curled her toes and set her spine tingling. He steered her towards the dining room table, set with two matching plates and brim-full wine glasses
“And brownies?” She breathed, wide-eyed with ecstasy.
“Dinner first, then sweets. Sit.”
A mischievous grin lit his bearded face as he set the brownie tray down on the table. She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck. He lifted her effortlessly and kissed her with bone-melting sweetness.
“Oh yes,” she murmured through a giggle as they surfaced for air, “we’ll definitely have sweets tonight.”