The Coming of Magic

Magic always came to the women of her family on the eve of their twenty-first birthday, and always, in a most grandiose manner. For instance, her grandmother's broom took off - with her grandmother on it - when her grandmother was blessed with the gift of flight, and when her mother received her gift of potion-brewing, her kettle burst into spontaneous song, cracking the kitchen windows.

It was thus no wonder that, the day before she turned twenty-one, Mabel was a nervous wreck.

"I'm also terrified," she told her mother, when she popped over to her parents' house at lunchtime, "That it won't come to me. I mean, it's past noon already!"

"There are plenty of hours left in the day," replied her mother, sensibly.

"Yes, but still," Mabel whined.

"Perhaps," said Mabel's mother, "You should visit Granny."

Mabel went over to Granny's, and paced Granny's cottage like a madwoman.

"Patience," said Granny, keeping her eyes on her knitting, adding as an afterthought, "Let's have some tea."

Mabel sighed, made tea, sat next to Granny on the sofa, and sipped it gloomily.

"Were you this anxious, when it was your turn?" asked Mabel, watching Onxy, Granny's tomcat, lick his paws before the fire.

Granny snorted. "I didn't even know about it," she said. "We weren't told anything, in my day."

When afternoon trickled into early evening, and storm clouds gathered beyond the windows, Mabel stood up, looking defeated.

"I suppose I'll get going, then," she said, quietly. Granny nodded. She'd taken up her knitting again.

Mabel saw herself out. She closed Granny's door behind her, and a flash of lightning lit up the evening sky. Thunder roared in reply, and rain pelted the ground.

Just my luck, Mabel thought unhappily, getting soaked through as she searched her pockets frantically for her car key. After what seemed like an eternity - but was really only two minutes - she found it.

The rain stopped, as suddenly as it had begun.

"Look!" said Granny from the doorway, wrapped tightly in her shawl. She was pointing upwards.

Mabel looked, up, and watched as shiny specks of light fell from the heavens.

"Fireflies!" she exclaimed, extending her arms and cupping her hands to catch them. The specks landed silently, glowing, in her palms.

"Look closer," said Granny.

Mabel looked closer.

"Not fireflies," she said, in wonder. "They're words."