A Wish Your Heart Makes

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Never forget that if it does not come from love, it is not magick.  No spell or potion, fairy  or prayer can cause a wish to come true.  There is a sliver of time, however, at dawn and at dusk, where those wishes that could go either way on the scale are more likely to become happily fulfilled desires.  These are the moments you are most likely to catch a fairy perched atop a bubble, headed directly into your hopes and dreams.

Before that happens, an arduous but exciting learning process occurs for the fairies involved.  They meet in places where Believers are gathered, although they are rarely caught among the humans.  Academy hours are strictly enforced during festival hours and animal feeding times.  The goal of any graduate is to never get caught, but to leave a distinct impression that she might have been there.  Recent graduates tend to be more playful and tickling.  More experienced bubble riders float on the carbonation in alcoholic beverages like beer and champagne.  In between those stages are the experimenters.  They ride bubble juice – Sprite is a favorite.

Every spring around May Day, at festivals all over the world, classes are held for fairy sprites, as well as the witches who brew the potions, and the Bubble Dispatchers who arrange transport.   That’s me.  I am a wish dispatcher, or Wishpatcher, as we usually say. I arrange for the right bubbles to pick up the right sprites to transport to the right places for the work that needs doing.   It’s tough work, but it’s great fun.  We usually have a harvest festival in the fall, just to tell our stories from the previous year.  Sometimes the snow fairies can’t wait that long to tell of their winter escapades, and we have another slumber party around the Vernal Equinox.  I suspect this is not just a local tradition….

What I like best about my job is that I don’t do requests.  You can’t call or email and tell me your wish.  I do consider your wish if it’s for someone other than yourself, but you can’t call or text with that request either.  I sit perfectly still and listen to the dreams that float on the breeze.  The ideal candidate is a relatively happy male who sleeps soundly and dreams in color.  He is unaware of our existence or our visits, and if he is one of the more arrogant ones, he will boast among his friends that his brain makes the best dreams.  Sometimes he will be less arrogant than afraid, which men tend not to admit.  He will claim he was bewitched by a spirit who stole his conscience.

He doesn’t know the Jiminy Cricket is on our team.

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