Little Magic

Magic is absolutely, one hundred percent real. Okay, maybe not the kind of magic you’re thinking about, like flying or turning invisible or casting spells. Not that kind of magic. That would be way too obvious and would probably make for just another boring fairy tale, except it would be real life instead of on screen or in a book.

Real magic? It’s little. It has to be, otherwise everyone would abuse it for their own selfish purposes and nothing good would ever come of it.

Did you ever wonder why, say, your best friend always got a hundred percent on their homework, even when they didn’t try? Did you ever wonder how your mom’s fresh baked cookies always came out perfectly? Ever wonder why that lady across the street has the perfect flowers growing in her front yard?

It’s called Little Magic. A tiny bit of magic that every single person possesses, whether it’s having a “green thumb” or being able to find anything that they’ve lost. Everyone has a Little Magic in them, and sometimes the magic repeats. However, only a select few, very keen people know that Little Magic exists.

I’m one of them, and the only reason I was able to figure out that Little Magic exists is because mine is one of the more…unusual talents.

I know I said that no one’s Little Magic was really easily identified as magic, because of all of that selfish whatnot that would happen. But that doesn’t mean no one’s magic is different.

My best friend always knows exactly what time it is and how much time has passed without looking at a clock.

My mom has impeccable baking powers. Come to think of it, the only time anything of hers ever burnt was when she left me in charge of it.

My dad never makes a spelling or grammar mistake when typing. I have literally only ever seen him backspace when he decides to change a word in a sentence.

Me? What’s so special about me? What’s the Little Magic that I have that made me realize that magic was actually real? It took me a while to realize it, but when I figured it out I wasn’t even that surprised.

My power? My power is lying. I can make anyone believe anything that I say, no matter how absurd or unbelievable it might be.

I know it doesn’t sound like much, but it’s more of a power than you would ever think. I got my teacher to believe that I turned in a homework assignment that I never finished. I told my dad that I hadn’t taken the last piece of pie from the fridge, and he didn’t question me further.

Seems like mundane, dumb things that anyone could make up, right?

I thought so too.

But my power comes with a little side effect that I didn’t notice until after some of my bigger lies had come to pass:

Whatever I lie about, whatever I say?

Comes true.