PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Ann Hall
“Do you believe in magic, Uncle Joe?” Little Farida asked as they strolled through an antique store.
“Black magic, maybe.” he mumbled, then pursed his lips and replied, “No, not really.”
Farida trailed her fingers on old trinkets, polished to a high sheen. Twenty years ago, his answer might have been different. The naivety of youth was magic in itself. Opportunities abounded, dreams were limitless and life never-ending. Then we grew up and traded magic for mortgages.
He watched his niece contemplate a row of coloured vases. “You know djinn live inside bottles?”
An enchanted smile lit up Farida’s face.
Sometimes when I feel jaded with the world, I wish I could go back to my teens. I’d do things differently. Take more chances for sure. The youth may be naive but in a way it is a blessing. It gives them the, admittedly blind, courage to take risks with a much bigger space to learn from mistakes. ( I hope I remember this when my daughter is a teenager!! I might take back my words!)
I added the black magic bit because in these parts of the world, the practice of and belief in it is widespread crossing different backgrounds and religions too. A black magic conference voted Botswana as having the most powerful black magic in Africa. (Weird but true.) Me, personally, I don’t give it much thought – other than in my fiction writing.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by leading author Rochelle. The challenge is to write a story with 100 words or less.
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