After that, any question she might have had about the reality of magic was gone, gone as completely as the hole in the floor.
When the repairs were done, Myrddin had departed.
All the Bringers of Wonder had departed. Art wasn't sure how or where, or whether they might return, but they were definitely gone.
The magic spilling from the theater washed over Art and Marilyn like a warm summer rain as they sat and talked. When Art tried, he could see it rolling out across the parking lot, climbing the lampposts on Thoreau Street, spreading across the sky overhead.
Marilyn had not had a month of practice to become sensitized to it, but she, too, could feel it, and she had seen the play, had seen Myrddin at work afterward. When Art had finished his explanation she had no doubt of its truth.
Sunlight streaked overhead, tangling with the magic; for a moment, invisible colors spilled from the air. Marilyn and Art sat side by side on the steps, thinking, feeling the eerie new world, looking out at the transformed and familiar reality of Bampton.
Old Spanner was out in his field, but Marilyn noticed something different about him. She pointed.
“Look,” she said.
Art looked, as Spanner spread wide fine new wings. He flexed great white feathers and took to the air. As the two watched, the old horse sailed upward, sunlight gleaming from his flanks, tail flying in the breeze.
Tiny humanoid creatures, naked and shining, fluttered down from the theater eaves on dragonfly wings, to circle Art's head and then dance away through the air.
“What are they?” Marilyn asked. “Fairies?”
“Who knows?” Art asked. “Sprites, elves, fairies – I don't know the distinctions.” He got to his feet and helped Marilyn up.
“We'll have to learn them,” Marilyn said.
“Or make them up,” Art replied. “These might be new, not the old things at all.” He grinned, and waved a hand, painting a polychrome glimmer in the air.
Together they walked across the parking lot, hand in hand, trailing rainbows, as gnomes peered from the mailbox on the corner, elves danced on the sidewalk, and the morning sun smiled down at them all.
Somewhere overhead, Spanner sang as his wings caught the jeweled breeze.
-end-
About the Author:
Lawrence Watt-Evans has been a full-time writer for more than thirty years, with more than forty novels and well over a hundred short stories to his credit. He has served as an officer in the Horror Writers' Association, Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America, and Novelists Inc. His story “Why I Left Harry's All-Night Hamburgers” won the 1988 Hugo for short story, as well as the Asimov's Readers Award. He lives in Takoma Park, Maryland, with his wife and an overweight cat.
His website is at www.watt-evans.com.
Short stories by Lawrence Watt-Evans available as ebooks:
“Why I Left Harry's All-Night Hamburgers”: The Hugo-winning story of a place where millions of alternate realities meet.
“Parade”: A tale of urban horror as five office workers find themselves swept up in a mysterious parade through the city streets.
“Heart of Stone”: A wizard's creation is left trapped and alone when her creator dies.
“Hearts and Flowers”: Experiments with the chemistry of love produce fads, fancies, addiction, and disaster.
“Dead Things Don't Move”: Two thieves think they've found easy pickings.
“Stab”: A short horror story about a businessman's memories.
“The Ghost Taker”: A priest on an alien planet finds his faith challenged by people from Earth.
“Jim Tuckerman's Angel”: A man is obsessed with seeing an angel.
The Rebirth of Wonder Page 14
