Swirls of rainbow begin to grow out from me to all the people around me, weaving between us and connecting back to the pretties playing and dancing.
Not from me. From them. I notice. Priscilla’s motions, snapping, and tapping of her foot seem to be giving off pulses of pure energy, clear rainbows without color - invisible, but I just know they’re there.
The pulses of energy seem to flow along her hands to the various pretties with their instruments.
No, again I’m wrong. It’s flowing into the instruments themselves.
As the pretties play the instruments, the pulses of energy change to become music. The sounds all start to blend together and flow out across the park, mixing with the people. As the waves of colored music touch the people, it slides into them, mixes, and comes out as a rainbow unique to each person.
As the flow of the rainbow of music touches each person, it grows, spreads, and creates a greater and more complex rainbow of energy. This new complex rainbow carries emotions - joy, relaxation, hope, play.
Looking back to where Aaliyah is dancing my mouth just falls open. She’s riding the rainbows! Her movements, the ribbons, her feet and hands. She isn’t dancing with the music, she’s dancing with the pulse and thrum of the emotions of everyone watching her.
Wooooooooow! Can I do that someday?
The light, the color, the flow. It’s both amazing and confusing. I know it’s there. I can see it - and yet - it’s no different than just enjoying the feeling of the music and the revelry of the park. Nothing actually looks different when I try and really look at it.
I turn up to Gemma and pat at her and start gesturing around the park. “Ooooo! Ooooo! Bwhaaaa, ooooo?” Tell me about this. You can see it too, right? It’s so pretty! What is it? Does it have a name?
Gemma looks down to me, looks around as I gesture, and - with a huge smile and tears in the corners of her eyes - replies, “Yes, Ratel. This is all for you. Happy name day. It’s like magic isn’t it?”
Magic? Magic. New word. Magic. “Mawwik!” I say pointing at the rainbows of emotion and energy I can experience so vividly that it overlays my sight and hearing. I reach out to touch a rainbow and I can feel it. It tingles, but each little color feels so different.
Taking a deep breath in I realize I can smell the magic. It smells like… joy? Joy has a smell? Of course it does! Food makes me happy, so of course happy has a taste.
Taking a deep breath I can taste the magic. It feels heavy and solid, while being light and smooth. Food? Magic is food?
Breathing deep I feel the magic resist. Oh? Magic is friend, not food? I feel a pulse of intent from the magic around me. Magic is friend.
I wave at the magic and feel it respond in the smiles and dancing of all the people around me. I look into their eyes and see the magic dancing in there, even deeper and more alive.
Eyes, hands, fingers, toes, legs. Everywhere I see a person connecting with another person, with the music, with the park - the magic flows. Stronger connections, like the people holding hands, the children playing in the mist, the people dancing to the music, creates more vibrant magic.
I think of how I feel about each of the pretties;
Violet, tiny and forgetful, but funny. I like the faces she makes when she thinks no one is watching.
A small pulse of magic erupts between us.
Greyward’s large booming voice, passionate actions, willingness to help anyone. How she often sets up practical jokes and blames them on others.
The pulse splits and thumps in rhythm.
Merrygold’s gentle hands. How she gently and firmly makes sure everything gets done, but doesn’t ever seem to actually do any work herself, yet is always there to lend an ear or give advice.
Two becomes three.
Peach, always making a mess, saying things that make the other pretties turn fun colors, and how she likes to push and wrestle. She’s always the first to take me out of my swaddles and starts rubbing me all over her soft gold fuzz mewling about how soft I am.
Three becomes four.
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Ariebella, the first pretty I met so long ago. She’s diligent, hardworking, and always there for anyone who needs it. I owe her everything and want her to be able to smile and relax like she’s doing now, all the time.
Five.
Linshee with her loud songs, swaying hips, and bouncing steps.
Six.
Tatiana always pretending to be upset and angry at the world, but can never hide the hope in her eyes.
Seven.
Strawberry, always singing and arguing with plants and flowers. Always trying to play pranks and jokes on the other pretties, that even I see coming, and they play along with anyways. Her mischievous grins and the mismatch with her innocent eyes and motions are warming to watch.
Eight.
Sakura, always calm, patient, friendly, and compassionate. The time she spends making toys and stuffies that she hides in her sleeves to give to children. How she’s playing right now with sparkling eyes.
Nine.
Alice strutting about as if she’s not half the size of Patricia and Greyward, now dancing and playing with the children in the mist like one of them.
The pulse of magic splits again into ten. Then the small pulses spiral together, become thicker, and combine into a beautiful black light that flickers with ten stars, each with a color that feels like each of the pretties it connects to.
Hilda, always with a saying of wisdom and ever organized, currently wailing away with little hammers on metal bits - a smile on her face.
Another star appears, spiraling around the others.
Aaliyah, infinite grace hidden within a strict and formal shell. How she picks me up and hums and dances around Happy Place. The way her very presence tends to set others to dancing to the beat of their own hearts.
Another star appears and the beautiful dark light grows, reaching out to connect to another.
Patricia’s huge size mixing smoothly with her gruff and touchy nature. He sheer joy as she bangs away on a massive stone slab.
Thirteen magical stars twinkle in the edges of my vision.
Ruth - her lazy nature and sharp intellect hidden behind her mannerisms, but always gleaming in her large sharp ruby eyes.
Fourteen.
Nia, normally snarky, is playing away on a small stick with holes, dancing with the same music and movements as Priscilla’s hands.
Fifteen.
Esmeralda - quiet and gentle as the pink morning glories she resembles is making garlands of flowers and placing them on the heads of some of the tiny giants.
Sixteen.
Amy, surrounded by barrels nearly as big as her, swinging oversized mallets, and creating the ~thump~ ~thump~ of the rhythm.
Seventeen.
Maddy, normally looking fearsome and regal, is surrounded by pudgy bakers and their wives, drooling over their secretly swapped candies and goods.
Eighteen.
Priscilla, normally demure and shy, is basking in the music she orchestrates - this grand impromptu festival of music and magic, flowing in time and beat to her commands.
Nineteen.
Gwen, who smells like books and has a soft and meek voice, is singing her heart out.
A pressure I didn’t even know was there shatters. Motes of invisible light fly off the sides of the black spiral. A new star appears, connects to Gwen, and then they all start to spiral and dance around each other in time with the music.
Elodie, tall and noble, rolling out sounds on a hanging pan made of metal.
Twenty and one.
Sylvie begins to sing a melody so high and bright that even the birds in the trees can’t match her.
Twenty and two.
Delphine is off dragging specific women into a circle to dance together, then whispering into the ears of deeply blushing young men until they go and interrupt and dance with one of the women.
Twenty and three.
Gemma is holding me and looking lovingly around at the revelry. She never felt like she was truly happy with herself, but right now, today, I see something in her begin to let go.
As it does the magic flows into and out of her, merging with the other dancing stars.
Twenty-four.
Maeve, sitting on a stool and plucking at a stringed instrument taller than she is, face at peace and lost in the music.
Twenty-five.
Xanthe, Ingrid, and Niamh holding hands and dancing in a circle with tiny giants, singing along to the music and laughing.
Twenty-six.
Twenty-seven.
Twenty-eight.
Fia, arms wide, harmonizing with Sylvie’s bright voice and Gwen’s powerful resonance, completing the melody.
Twenty-nine.
Cosima, clearly entranced, joining with Aaliyah’s dance, brilliant glass baubles in her hair capturing the light and magic and amplifying it across the park, as Aaliyah spins and moves her to enhance her own dance.
Thirty become one. The sparks of starlight in the beautiful black spiral begin to move, touch, and reach out to the people around them. There’s a shuddering deep breath in the air itself, and then sparks of starlight begin to drift out of the people reveling in the park. Children, elderly, young, old, human, orc, elf, dwarf, florenite, gnome, fey, goblin, dwarf, and species I’ve never seen or heard of before, add their colors to the twisting spiral of rainbow stars.
The dark light expands to cover everyone. Each person shifts ever so slightly to become as pretty as the pretties - becoming the idealized version of themselves - as they nod, dance, jump and play.
Blinking in wonder and amazement, I realize that this is an expression of the magic. No one changes, truly, but the moment, the music, the connection, for just this one day, this one song, everyone gets to experience the pure joy and possibilities that being connected to so many people can accomplish.
As the time passes, I watch, as the perfection that each person has become crystalizes back into a tiny spark and settles into each person. For each of them it is a different place. For some it’s their belly button, others their foreheads, hearts, hands, feet, arms, legs, eyes. Others the spark splits and settles in multiple places.
Day turns to night, the stars spin and dance, and time loses meaning as I watch the infinite dance and play of magic. For what else could this be but magic in the truest sense.
A feeling in my soul stirs as I too wish to join in the dance.
Watching the pulse and dance of the magic, the music, the emotions of the people, I realize that Priscilla is directing the music, the melodies, and controlling the tune. Her diminutive form seems to have faded into a multifaceted mist that swirls and spirals out, connecting with the music, and guiding the shapes the pretties have become.
Everyone and everything turns from an idealized version of itself and fades into mist of emotion, of potential, of intent. Behind each of the mists I can feel something truly vast. Infinity itself seems to be sitting, waiting patiently, waiting with baited breath and excitement.
Look deep into this void of pure potential I understand. The universe itself is aware, alive, sentient, and it too wishes to play. The dreams and hopes of all become manifest simply because the universe itself wishes to experience. Imagination is what drives us. We can become anything we wish, but it is up to us to figure out how.
I feel the attention of the universe on me. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I realize, in that moment, that it is not the attention of a deep powerful alien mind upon my own. No, I am looking upon myself. I am the universe, as is everyone around me.
The difference though, is that for the first time in forever, the universe itself gets to be its own person, not just the shape each person takes.
The feeling fades, the understanding of what I am slides away from me, everything returns to the revelry.
Maybe an hour has passed. The pretties are looking sweaty but excited. The people look normal, but fun and joyful, refreshed, and motivated.
In my contentment, as the last of the vision slides away from me, in a moment of reflex for the sheer amazement I have towards existence, I take a new breath - a different breath.
A spiral begins to form.