MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “magic”

The showdancer’s new dress

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/7a/7e/e4/7a7ee4a84d90dff7853d57b0a4863948.jpgNow that she had reached the top of her profession, the renowned showdancer was able to laugh at the reminder of her most embarrassing and agonising moment in her career. “It was during a royal Christmas ball,” she confessed. “I was astounded by the luxury of the ballroom, the immensity of the hall, the gold, the silver, every carefully placed ornament”. “I remember my jaw dropped open at the mere sight of it all”. “One of my co-dancers nudged me to say that she would organise the showdresses in a wardrobe ‘upstairs’. I didn’t know where that was but I entrusted her with the dress. I was gobsmacked with where we had come. But then the real show began. Because as soon as the light dimmed, the host announced that a ‘dance programme like no other worldwide’ would appear before the guests’ eyes. I was trembling with excitement. I suddenly flinched and realised I had very little time to get dressed. But where on earth had the girl placed the dresses?

With just a few minutes away from the show, I couldn’t for the life of me find neither my co-dancer, nor the dresses. Everyone else was getting ready, but no-one had seen the girl who had taken charge of my dress. I was the lead in this seasonal dance-story. There was no way I could not appear. And I needed that dress. I raced up and down the ballroom, in and out of the changing rooms, and as I saw that all the other dancers were almost ready, I panicked all the more. Suddenly, I found myself on another huge princely-like staircase with a red carpet neatly laid on every step. I sprinted up (or down, I can’t recall) and sprang into what appeared to be the world’s most elegant and spacious cloakroom. But I was not alone”.

In the middle, on top of a square pouf sat a man, slim-figured with grey hair and a corresponding goatee, with a measuring tape hanging from around his neck. A royal tailor, I wondered. I had most probably looked pale from agony and fear. He was the exact opposite: restrained and composed. He got up and calmly walked towards me. ‘Are we looking for something in particular?’ he asked with a voice that emanated tranquillity. A recount of what had happened raced out of my mouth as he watched me unfazed. He then turned around and headed towards a tall wooden cupboard, he opened one door-flap – I couldn’t see what was inside – and pulled out the most beautiful pink showdress I had ever seen. pink strass showdance dress.jpgIt seemed custom-made for the exact role I was to play that night. He helped me put it on and I was so excited and panicking at the same time that I was not embarrassed that a strange man was helping me dress. I ran out of the room and – I still don’t know how – managed to get on stage at exactly the right moment. What is more, I remembered every single step I needed and gave the best performance of my career. It was the one that sky-rocketed me to the top; the one that filled me with confidence and made me believe that I was destined for more”.

The funniest and even stranger thing that happened that night was that the girl and the costumes appeared as we were packing everything to leave after the performance. She asked me where I was hidden, as she was searching for me all night”.

Some things come into our life inexplicably, but always at the right moment. We simply have to be open enough and prepared to go with the flow of what life throws our way.

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Confess

 

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Light up, light up

lampost-s-pier-sandra-crook

©Sandra Crook

In daytime, it seemed like a simple street lamp with its metallic surroundings and a white exterior. It was nothing special. At least that was what the majority of passers-by thought.

But one little girl believed differently. She saw in that lamppost a fairy tale. The first time she saw it, she said it reminded her of her father’s bedtime stories.

When night came, the lamp turned on; but in different colours. And when the first snowflake fell, the lamp turned itself into a lit-up snowball encasing Santa’s house.

Magic was there. You just had to want to see it.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

The magic season candles

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©MCD

It’s less than a month away!” miaowed Penny as she raced across the house into the kitchen. There was frost outside that morning and it made it feel all the more like winter. The streets and shops were already decorated, lighting up the magic of the season. For Penny it was more than just “the most wonderful time of the year”. Being a Christmas baby, she of course disliked the fact that everything was crammed into one day that did not entirely belong to her, but she felt it all so much more profoundly, deeply and emotionally. This was her season and she relished it.

This year, her parents decided to begin the season by handcrafting decorations before they turned the house into what could easily be likened to Santa Claus’ home. Her father brought out a huge pot and her mother put on an apron. Penny was curious. There were no ingredients out for cookies or cake. So what was going on?

“We’re going to make candles”, her mother announced. Scented, colourful, big or small they would all have something special because, like her parents always said, “what is made with love, reflects that positiveness and warmth”, and what would be more ideal for this season?

Penny watched as the fluid wax turned into hard candles. She believed she even saw a sparkle glowing from the mixture. And when the first candle was lit that night, she was certain; this was going to be one of the best holiday seasons ever.

The magic candelabra

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©Janet Webb

It was a present from her aunt who always had an aura of mystery surrounding her. She used to dress in sparkles, long, airy dresses and dangling earrings. When she was young, Janet believed her aunt was a descendant of a gypsy witch. But a bit more elegant.

The candelabra decorated her windowsill ever since she moved into her own house. And she believed that it brought with it some of her aunt’s magic. It was in there that she found love and got married, got a promotion, and even won the lottery. It couldn’t have been a simple coincidence.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Snowed in

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© MCD

There is something truly wondrous about waking up to snow. Pulling the curtain and opening your window to find everything covered in white outside. Regardless if it is literally freezing cold. At that moment, you just don’t care. Because it’s magical and you want to draw it all in.

It becomes even better when you get snowed in. It’s not your fault. You can’t control weather conditions. But you can enjoy them to the fullest. Because there is nowhere really you can go, other than outside on that white carpet to play. To forget for a while all the things that bother you, your troubles and worries, your stress and concerns, and just…play. Build a snowman, start a snowball fight, lay in the snow. Become a child again.

Perhaps that’s where the real magic of the season lies: in allowing yourself to act like a child; to view the world with wonder and excitement and let your mind be free. To have faith that everything will work out exactly as it should and be positive that the happiness will last.

So, go, go outside and live every moment of the present. Let yourself indulge in all the small things that make life so great and be joyous. Trust that everything will be all right. And wish that the next year that is waiting around the corner will be even more superb!

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Renewal

The Christmas bell

https://dorkdaddydotcom.files.wordpress.com/2013/12/polar-express-bell.jpgDenis was a child who grew up with stories and fairy tales of fantasy worlds that had no association with reality. He was a child who enjoyed the fiction, yet as an adult became too rational to endure the magic that they entailed.

Denis, however, loved Christmas. The sparkles, the lights, the optimism and joy of the season. But he never liked the fact that his birthday happened to be on the exact same day. It made him feel wanting, as though he lacked something everyone else had – a day for himself.

It was only when he met Nancy that his view changed.  She was a girl who worked in a toy store. They had met by chance at a coffee shop one day, when she was in such a haste that she nearly spilled her coffee on him. As karma has it, one talk let to another and soon they were dating. The good things always happen when you least expect them to.

Nancy loved the winter holiday season too. She dressed up as an elf for almost an entire month for her job and experienced it all so intensely. She was the kind of person who believed that fairy tales do come true if we believe in them. She was convinced that Denis was one of the luckiest people to have the privilege to have a birthday on such an important date. He just had to see it too.

She gave him a small golden bell as a present. She told him it was similar to those on Santa’s reindeers. He shook it but no sound came out. Nancy took it from his hand, shook it a little and said, “can’t you hear its sweet chime?” Denis heard nothing.  She got up and wrapped him in her arms. The snow was falling gently outside, and wood was crackling in the fireplace. “This is all magic what we’re living,” Nancy said with a huge smile. She tossed the tail of her Santa hat from in front of her face and added, “magic happens when you don’t give up. You just have to believe. Believe that things happen as they’re supposed to; there’s a reason for it all. And you are lucky to be who you are, at this very moment, at this very place.” She winked and Denis glowed. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and tried again. He shook the bell gently and all of a sudden, a harmonious sound echoed in the room.  He could hear it now too.

Drafting sorcery

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©Claire Fuller

Jack was in a hurry. Rather, he was in a tremendous rush, overtaking other pedestrians like a formula one car drafting its competition. He had only four hours to find all the ingredients on the sorcerer’s list. But where would he find corals from seas with turquoise waters and white sand, leaves from ever-blooming trees, and centuries-old wood bark untouched by fire, along with a line of other equally rare paraphernalia?

It was a seemingly unattainable mission – his only hope of reviving Selina, of waking her up from the coma. He had promised her he wouldn’t let go. Ever.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Witch Wars

spells potions witchcraftGisella was a witch. But she didn’t know it. Not until when she was 22 years old and fell head over heels in love with a boy. A boy who, however, had another girlfriend. That is when Gisella realized the power she had.

For days she ached for his attention. She longed for the moment his eyes would meet hers, for when they would exchange a few words and he would make her laugh so easily. But then, she would show up. That dyed-blonde, tall, I’m-so-pretty-and-I-know-it type of girl who was always hanging off his arm. Gisella was jealous. Inside of her, a green-eyed monster was brewing with rage. All she wanted to do was get her out of the picture in some way, so she could be the one to enjoy the young man’s attention. But how?

She suddenly remembered that on her 18th birthday her great aunt had given her an old leather-bound notebook. She had told her that she would know when she would need it. The aunt passed away three months later. Gisella searched for it at the back of her closet and finally opened it. Inside were hand-written psalms, spells, recipes for potions and remedies for all sorts of “illnesses” – heartaches, diseases and the like, both good and bad. Obviously, her great aunt had been a witch. Or just very insane.

Jealousy had taken over Gisella’s entire being and all she could think of was how to conquer the young man. So she decided to try out a spell. After all, what was the worst that could happen?

She made a potion that seemed fairly easy and used ingredients found around the house. Plus a hair from the young man in question which she acquired with dexterity one day when she was pretending to choke and grabbed onto him, plucking out a single hair from the back of his neck. The next time she saw him, she offered him this new homemade drink her aunt had prepared. A sip was enough.

The potion was supposed to bring chaos to his relationship with the dyed-blonde. And it did. Because they soon began to quarrel and fight more often.

But a few days later, Gisella fell sick. She had constant headaches and her stomach was churning like a washing machine. She found on her windowsill a small pebble with a star painted inside a square. She flicked through the aunt’s book and found that this was a sample of black magic. It was used to make a person sick, and the more stones you used the sicker the person would become. The dyed-blonde was a witch too.

A witch war began with Gisella now focusing her power on diminishing the other witch. Spells and counter spells were fired, all the while forgetting what exactly this was over – or rather whom. The young man was perplexed, but he grew distant from his girlfriend and that pleased Gisella. She then frantically sought another plan. She made another man pursue the dyed-blonde; sooner or later she would fall for him, flattered by his passion and overwhelmed by his persistence in chasing after her. It worked. And the road was now open for Gisella to enter the young man’s heart. Another potion for that would do the trick. One that would ensure that the person who drank it would only have eyes for her.

Gisella was a witch. But she would always wonder if she could ever get her way without magic. She felt like she cheated life but justified herself by arguing that jealousy makes you someone else. Someone you never knew you were. That someone may simply just as well be an all-powerful witch. So why not use that power?

Also part of Daily Prompt: Green-Eyed Monster

Feed yourself with the world around you

window ocean view

Feed your life with the enjoyment of doing something you love,
That relaxes you,
That fills your heart with passion.

Feed your mind with thoughts that lift you up,
That causes a smile to form on your face,
That challenges you to dream beyond the borders of space.

Feed your eyes with the beauty that encircles you,
That triggers you to gleam with joy,
That makes you marvel with the world we live in.

Feed your soul with the enchantment that is today.
Don’t let it perish in negativity and grey.
Lift your spirits and you will rise,
To be the very person you wish to be.

Paper books or e-readers?

books vs ebooksWith so many things to read nowadays, we often get lost not only in the material but in the medium of reading. You see people reading constantly and everywhere – paper books, magazines, newspapers, on tablets, phablets, e-readers, phones. Choosing the right medium is not simply a matter of preference, it is also of convenience. So what do you prefer, a paper book or an e-reader?

Don’t get me wrong, I love my Kindle (for many more reasons beyond its practicality), but there is just something else present in a real paper book that cannot be replaced by any screen. And it is not just the excitement of getting your hands on a new book every once in a while (because, really, how many times are you going to buy an e-reader?).

In an era that sees the rapid rise of a “screen culture” we often need to take time off any and every screen. It is just not natural. And it is unhealthy being stuck in front of a screen all day. Get your hands on a book, flick through its pages, smell that odour of print and paper, rub the rough yellow sheets between your fingers, roll your hands over the indentations of the cover, mark the page you left off, feel the agony, work and inspiration that were involved in making that book, and let the magic radiating from each and every page carry you away.

Of course, you can still read the same book on an e-reader, but this digital medium just won’t allow you to completely engage in the relationship between book and reader. Sure, it is more convenient in many ways – for example, e-books are cheaper than paper ones; you can carry your e-reader anywhere at any time, having with you an abundance of books all at once; and quite significantly, you can read anything anywhere surreptitiously without being afraid of being judged, as it is impossible to see what you’re reading and can thus saturate your curiosity for a range of genres.

Reading a book is not just a past-time. It is an experience. A journey into another world. It is a way of getting lost without even moving from your couch. And it is one that will enrich your life.

So in essence, it doesn’t really matter where you read something, just as long as you immerse yourself fully into it. You’ll never regret it. (Unless it is a really bad book, but that’s another story).

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