A Guest Story Post from a member of our Crew! Enjoy! – Jess
Every father knows his children are magic. Like so many things that we are told or we say when children join us, we say that they are magic. But do we ever think about this? Do you we believe it? We do, but at some point we cease. They can steal or hearts, manipulate our emotions, and get their way with a flutter of an eyelash. They own us. At some point we forget. They become mere mortals, like us. They cease to be fairies that can fly. They come to KNOW that Santa Claus isn’t real. They slowly become bound by the laws of nature and logic until one day they just are not magic anymore.
But we aren’t all mere mortals. Most of us don’t know that. Most of us are born magic, that’s true. Many lose this as they get older, mostly through lack of practice. Some of us carry the spark and can wield it at times, often unwittingly. Some children, like my daughters, retain the ability to work magic all their lives.
This magic is different for everyone, as is almost any other skill or ability granted to humans. We all can read, or sing, or throw a stick, but some of us are vastly better at it than others. Some people’s singing, in fact, is more like a steam-ironed cat than a tune, but they do try. It’s much the same with magic. Most of us can do a little under the right circumstances.
My own history of magic is a strange one. As a boy I knew how to pull lightning from my friends hands. It was a bit of trickery, but it did work. Somehow I have forgotten that trick. Other times I have made magic happen at the most important moments. I once willed a check for $800 to appear when I was in the direst need of funds in college. I’ve done some serious Jedi stuff, like throwing a cigarette 100 feet into a cup, or throwing a piece of paper and balancing it on its side. I can skip rocks beyond the limitations of physics. How? Magic. Useless, silly, almost unnoticeable magic. And surely we all know people who can do more than what the laws of nature should allow. And that’s’ how my magic works. It’s not all useless. My kids are healthy, my family is happy. We are surprisingly lucky and free of big problems. The price for all of that is an annoying streak of minor bad luck. If there is a way for a simple thing to go wrong to irritating and hilarious effect, it’s going to happen to me. I’ve been hit by a car and walked away. I’ve broken every object there is to break.
It’s different with my girls. Audrey knows and counts on her powers. Has it occurred to her that they are magic? It has now, but it wasn’t always so. She has always known, I think, that she has the ability to calm, soothe, and otherwise take away peoples pain. She is a sink for all that is wrong, base, and ugly. The flip side of that is she, like me, has an unbelievable capacity to create pain and hurt, almost effortlessly. Unlike me, she has learned to control that.
Harper, though, is all-together different. This is her story. Her sister and I are merely players.
My name is Malachi Schier. The story of Harper and her magic, I suppose, starts with my own story.Recommend0 recommendationsPublished in