Magic

It felt like she’d been there for ever, and that with every season that passed, she was turning into a copy of her aunt – cold and haughty and with a disdain for love and romance and men, all the magic and mess that came with simply being alive. She’d had to grit her teeth as her aunt tugged knots out of it, and she was sure there was magic at work in her hands because once it was plaited it was thick, but a normal length. In the far corner – where she was taking this particular wheel – there were five or six as yet uncharmed pieces, where the wood was still just wood, and while they would undoubtedly work for spinning, there was no magic in them yet. As she pulled her clothes back around her, Gretel was at once happy that she’d finally experienced physical love and sad that she’d hidden away from life for so long.