The Magic Cottage

MAGIC

DO YOU believe in Magic?

I mean, real Magic, capital M. Not rabbits out of hats, disappearing sequined ladies, or silver spheres that dance in the air. The real stuff, not tricks, illusions. I mean spells, enchantments—witchery, even. Damaged limbs that heal overnight, animals that trust in humans, paintings that come alive. Shadowy figures that aren't really there. More, there's more, but it's too soon to tell.

Maybe—probably—you don't believe. Maybe you half believe. Or maybe you want to believe.

A kind of magic I once knew, long before we took the cottage, came from powder or pills shared with friends; but that was just delusion. And a waste. I learned of real Magic when we came to "Gramarye."

That was Good Magic.

Yet everything has its opposite, and I found that there, too.

If you like, and if you're willing to suspend belief for a while—as I eventually had to—I'll tell you about it.