I joined a wee writing prompt group. No promises on showing up every single week, but the notion is 500 words inspired by a photo. So, here’s my first go, inspired by this lovely photo (which I tried to track down an attribution for, but no luck with reverse image searches, etc. I’ll update if I can find it).
“You know how you said I should be careful with magic?”
Bailey considered counting to ten, but instead eyed Marco, who’d run into her store three minutes before closing.
“What did you do?”
Bailey raised one eyebrow.
“Nothing on purpose,” Marco said. She noticed he was wearing pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. His usual style involved bow ties and skinny jeans.
“It didn’t work right.”
Bailey flipped the sign to ‘Closed.’
“Okay,” she said. “What stone?”
Marco’s gift matched hers. Bailey inspired crystals, which affected people wearing them. She used it to grant people courage (Tiger Eye), boost confidence (Carnelian), or even to surrender to impulse (Hematite). It helped people connect.
Bluntly? Bailey meddled in love lives.
“Moonstone. For visualization.”
For years she’d only met occasional gifted people, but lately they’d started popping up in the Village. Marco—sweet, energetic, a bit puppy-like—had started humming to her like he was one of her crystals.
“And what did you visualize?”
Marco had a baby-face, but when he bit his lip he looked even younger.
“Marco?” she said.
“So… There’s this guy.”
Of course. “And?”
“I visualized sleeping with him.” His baby-face turned pink. “Romantically! Not…sex. He’s gorgeous. Perfect hair, abs, and even his chest hair? It’s…” Marco’s hands flew while he talked. “Anyway. Much visualizing.”
“So, aiming for…confidence?” Bailey said.
Now she counted. “Marco. Clarity? Focus?”
“I know. Look…can you just come?”
Bailey grabbed her keys. Marco lived in one of the apartments over the Furever petshop. Bailey wasn’t sure what to expect. An unconscious man lying more-or-less on Marco’s bedroom floor wasn’t it. His head was on the bed, at least. And he did have nice abs.
The man snored quietly.
Marco nudged him with one foot.
“He won’t wake up,” Marco said.
She maintained composure—for three seconds—then laughed until her sides ached and she was leaning against the wall, wiping tears. Marco glared.
His beau was still fast asleep.
“This is so not funny,” Marco said.
“Well,” Bailey said, hiccoughing. “You did visualize sleeping with him.”
“I don’t even know how he got in here!”
That set her off again. She sat on his bed.
The fellow slept on.
“Okay,” Bailey said, recovering. “Moonstone, now.”
Marco pointed to his pillow. The moment it was in her palm, she felt the stone’s energy spilling out. Zero control or clarity.
Bailey calmed it down. Then, winking, she said, “You know, you need practice thinking on your feet. Clarity. Focus.”
“You’ll come up with something.”
Marco opened his mouth, but Bailey nudged the moonstone and he yawned instead. The look of alarm on his face lasted a second before he wobbled, slid down to his knees, and toppled over onto his bedroom floor.
The two men snored in unison.
Bailey reminded the moonstone to wake them up in the morning, leaving it on Marco’s pillow.
They made a cute couple. She couldn’t wait to hear how it all played out in the morning.