They said she was too young. Too inexperienced. That she was an untried Wiccan who would never succeed in such an endeavour. But they underestimated her determination to carry on her beloved grandmother’s work.
A single tear ran down her face as she picked up grandmother’s wand and stroked it lovingly. She closed her eyes and drew the necessary serenity about her.
Lifting the wand to her face she opened her eyes and blew gently.
The air about her filled with the delicate beauty of hope, joy, laughter and happiness. The bubbles flew gently away, bearing dreams for sleeping children.
Inspired by original artwork from Ian Bristow