Category: Colorful Magic


Arthur remembered reading somewhere that since memories are by their nature imperfect they couldn’t actually be relied on for accuracy. Memories of good times are sugarcoated, making it seem like everything was perfect. Memories of bad times are nightmarish in comparison.

He sighed and looked at the drawing. It was a child’s drawing. He’d drawn it when he was only six. It had been shoved in his pocket before his mother had sent him away to safety. His memories of his parents were fading. When he visualized them, it was only as they were in this drawing – stiff, lacking detail; yet somehow perfect. He wanted them to be perfect. They were his parents after all.

However, there was also the fact that they had been captured and enslaved because of the nature of their magic. There were times when he wondered if what the people of their island believed was true. Was darkness magic inherently evil? Did just using such an element bring that darkness and evil quality into one’s life? He sighed and set the drawing aside. It was time to go to school. Maybe he would get his answers there.

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Arthur remembered her from his childhood, though he very much doubted she remembered him. She hadn’t changed much in the past ten years. Her hair was still in a short brown bob, though it had lost the ever-present headband some time in early adolescence.

He didn’t blame her for forgetting him. They had both been in the first grade when he’d disappeared. He’d changed his name to hide from the men who’d killed his parents. Even at the age of six, he’d seen the importance of disappearing rather than being caught by the men.

He kept his memories a secret from everyone – his guardians, their daughter, ten years his senior, and all of his school friends. All that he would tell anyone about his past was that his parents were gone. That was the only truth, anyway. His name, history, former address, family members, and everything else were all lies. He couldn’t tell anyone his secret. He consoled his guilty conscience by telling himself that none of these people were involved. This was just a secret that happened to involve them.

The starry floor

Cieran climbed up into the attic of the Magic Tower. The attic loomed above the enormous gallery with its magically enchanted objects. The ceiling of the gallery was enchanted to look like the sky above them. During the day it was blue and often dotted with clouds. At night, stars danced over the heads of those in the room. Most of the students at the school were amazed by the spectacle.

Cieran, on the other hand, liked the attic above even more. The stars that were reflected on the ceiling of the room below showed on the floor of the attic. It was like walking in the sky when he visited the room. He settled into a corner nook and watched the starry floor. He might not sleep tonight, but at least he could find rest of some form.

Monica Ferris

an author with many hats

A Land of Curiosity

From the files of Shynian Intelligence

Heather's Fancies

tales from the enchanted gardens and shadow hollow

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