"Do you have a magic spell to return someone to life?" she said.
"No," the witch said, "I'm sorry."
"Oh."
"Why don't you tell me about them?"
"Will that bring them back?"
"For us. For a little while. Stories are a different kind of magic."
He awoke in the night, alert and afraid. It was too quiet.
His eyes went to the attic hatch.
"Hello?" he whispered.
It cracked open, slowly.
"Still here," the monster whispered back, "You're not alone."
He relaxed, and went back to sleep.
"Poor little match girl. Those matches won't keep her warm till sunrise," the merchant thought as he walked by.
But she had seen the merchant's house.
And she was pretty sure it'd burn longer than that.
They gathered around the tower of bone.
"We should knock it down," they said.
"Because you're jealous of what we've built!" called the ones atop the tower.
"No," said the ones below, "because you used our bones."
Each year, the townsfolk selected one child to give to the woods.
The woods gave one in return.
So far, the dryad student exchange program had been a wonderful success.
No one notices the ghosts of dogs. Their hauntings are too companionable.
They curl at the foot of the bed in the soft early mornings.
Warm. Content.
Urging: just five minutes more.
"Want to buy a magic sword?" the wizard said.
"What's it do?" he said.
"It glows when it senses danger."
"Why's it glowing now?"
The wizard shrugged.
The Anxiety Blade glittered uneasily.
"Help us decide," the night whispered. "Fear or hope?"
"Who else was asked?" he said.
"Each star in the sky."
"Then millions have spoken. Why does my voice matter?"
"We haven't heard it yet."
He was over-explaining himself. Again.
Blurting out his whole master plan, even though he knew the hero would use it against him.
He couldn't help it.
It was so nice to have someone to talk to.
"How's the time machine? Sightseeing in the distant past?"
"No. I mostly just take short hops back."
"What? Why?"
"To re-do conversations I mess up. It can take a lot of tries."
"That's... kinda weird."
"Oh. Ha, just kidding. Well, I'd better be going. Talk to you soon, OK?"
"Don't go into the woods. The monsters will get you," she'd been told.
So she went to the woods & found the monsters there.
They shared stories of the world beyond the woods, & all agreed it was more trouble than it was worth. She was glad.
They got her after all.
He used to find it hard to take a compliment.
It was easier once he thought of them as borrowed, instead.
Tucked away for the next person who needed one.
Dog liked looking out the window.
He looked at people and dogs. Birds and bugs.
"I will smell you all someday," he barked at them.
It was good to have goals.
"You may have three wishes," the genie said.
"I don't think I have any," she said, "but I have lots of dreams."
"I can't grant those."
"That's OK. I'm pretty sure I can."
People didn't hire skywriters much, anymore.
Sometimes he flew anyway, on clear days, to write "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" in the sky.
Just on the off chance the right person looked up.
The dog had lots of toys, but he always chose his favorite.
He remembered.
There was a place he'd been, with lots of other dogs.
Then a person came, and showed him how it felt to be chosen.
And kept.
She hated her time machine.
All it ever did was create paradoxes, which annoyed her. She wished she had never built it.
She knew she could go back and prevent herself from building it, of course.
But that annoyed her the most.
"Why were you so wary of us when we first arrived?" the aliens said.
"You had more power than us, we thought you'd abuse it," the humans said.
"Why?"
"We'd never met other sentients. We only had ourselves as examples."
Human wireless chargers were a big hit.
People loved them. The need to sleep was gone!
But soon they found them installed mostly behind cash registers. Under office chairs.
And they realized the dreams were gone, too.
Dog liked sleeping.
It was fun, chasing dreams. Trying to catch joy.
Waking up was even better.
At the foot of his person.
Remembering he'd already caught it.
"May I ask why I was destined to pass?" the soul asked.
"Hm?" Fate said.
"You cut my thread."
"Oh. I got a weird tangle so I'm ripping random threads. Maybe it'll come loose."
"...what?"
"The pattern was going a bit wonky anyway," Fate said, waving vaguely with her scissors.
"The world seems broken," he said, "I want a spell that can fix it."
"Yeah, me too," the witch said.
"You can't help?"
"Magic can't. I recommend empathy."
Something new? Check. Something borrowed? Check. Something blue? Check,
And lastly, something old: an ancient grimoire. She was ready for the wedding.
But the book whispered a second stanza.
"Something broken, something red. Something living, something dead."
She would obey.
"What happens when I die? Is there life beyond death?" he asked.
"Of course," said the Oracle.
"Oh! What will it be like?"
"A bit like before, only you won't be here."