Days without sunshine are boring; they lack charm and whimsy, and thus, I’m desperate for some good old fantasy... you know the type: From witches in enchanted forest to time-traveling magic doors and flying carpets to naughty elves and spooky trolls. But you see, one must have the right conditions... those magical moments when you are suddenly swirled up in the air in a flight of imagination and dreams and visions would come true can only happen on warm sunshiny days under a shower of petals...
Roses and sunshine can put a whimsical spark in you without a doubt!
Thus, I’ve decided if warm sunny days aren’t going to show up any soon around here, then I should take control of things. Ah yes, I’ll go find me a magical world, even on a cold dreary day like today…
So I run up to the attic and walked my way though a sundry jumble of boxes and things right to Arabella's magic box where I keep all the necessary paraphernalia for some delightful magical time…
Let’s see—pink shoes… where are my pink shoes? First thing first, you know! And where are my potions and spell bottles? I wonder if I might have left them outside to rot... That would be disastrous! You see, the spells kept in those bottles should not be released by the wrong hands...
Nor should they be exposed to inappropriate atmospheric conditions; least you want terrible things to happen... but don’t you worry; I’m sure they must be around here somewhere… Ah yes yes here they are!
These are my spell and ritual oils and potions, but the exquisite magical potion bottles are not. They're Arabella's bottles...
Bottles where she used to keep her very own powerful witch's spells. These spell bottles and many others I rather not show here; such as the Dragonfly's Flight and the Fire of Passion potion bottles were handcrafted and adorned by Arabella herself with lovely decorative gems and vibrant stones.
Now, I have my pink shoes on and I got the magical key in my hand... so, are you ready? Let’s go find the magical door!
By the way, have I ever told you the story of the doll that grew old in the attic?—pretty creepy! So maybe I should not bother telling you that story, in case you’ll get nightmares later.
Once, long long time ago, on that old tree stump you see over there in front of us, sat a very old woman. I didn’t have any idea who she was or where had she come from; but I could tell that she had found the best spot she could to watch the sunrise, and so there she sat, as in a reverie; looking at the most amazing sunrise you can imagine. Her worn staff was lying in the grass nearby, and her long white hair covered her shoulders down to her knees. A thick and very ancient looking book was lying closed on her lap. When the first rays of golden light broke across the horizon, enveloping the garden in the peaceful morning light, she smiled, opened he book, and began to read... but of course, that would be another story to tell, and we don’t have the time for that right now, right? We must hurry!
See it there?
