In the dark my hands made twisted shapes, more through intuition than direction. They danced like they belonged to a conductor, while my fingers played the air in long strokes like a pianist's. I was aware of their movements but I couldn't see them. They …

Cicadas sang in the heat of the day. Mostly. But it was well past sundown and the night was far from silent. It overflowed with strange sounds, as if the darkened woods themselves were awake and agitated. It wasn't just the pulsing buzz of the cicadas e…

She watched from the bushes in cat form. The window was curtained, but her yellow eyes could see the magic rise into the air. She purred, her favorite part of this transformation. The magic rose like a blanket, rolling into a twist and smoothly slid throu…