A Theatrical Event
These things usually never start on time. Five, ten, maybe even 15 minutes after the hour. People don't like waiting. There must be a lot of confidence in the air, this act will be really good. They turn to one another, discussing how they came here, how they heard about it, what they expect, if they'll leave after half time depending on how good or not it is, how they're not sure if they should run to the bathroom or not, then decideagainst it because they are the type to miss something once their mind tells them take a break. Amist all of this, the senses embark on a heightened journey as the atmosphere takes a sudden change. With no regard for the current activity of the audience, the procession suddenly comes to life, and those 10 minutes or so of slow anticipation are forgotten.
  It always begins by a dramatic surprise.  And so, the lights are dimmed, an off-center part of the stage glows, and then someone, perhaps in some aside similar to that old Shakespearean technique begins the first discussion of the play. His voice is the only one that matters now, his figure is the only one seen in a pool of eyeballs, the audience shrinking, the actor growing. Something about the way the sounds out of his throat echoes around the room and fills each space till vacancy feels nonexistent. The architecture truly is amazing, deliberate with that air of brilliance, and so such thoughts will start to creep into the back of the mind, observations you never knew you never knew. The simple objects and furniture on the slightly tilted floor, set at an angle for depth, seem all the more important, creative, necessary. The actors are not all beautiful, oh certainly not. It might even be on purpose, so that their body language, their voice, elevating higher than the silent gods you pray to at night who only seem to make the earth tremble in books with bibliomancy and theology written on every page, stirs up your senses, rings in your ears, opens up your mind, places you on that stage beside them, in their story, even though they can't see you. And so you are filled with understanding, a timeless appreciation for this art which takes skill, painstaking diligence, night after night memorizing, re-verbalizing, faltering, laughing at the mistakes after take number 35, 74, meditating, starting over again. All the while so that you can see these people at their best, understand their story, the director's story,he girl you just finished talking to when the lights dimmed and the first noise shot like a bullet through the air--yes, maybe even her story. What would your time be without them? The world outside stops as life begins in the center of the theatre.   "I've really gone and done it again this time, Johnny, this time for real. I don't think she's gonna make it out of this one." "Richard, slow down, wait--what the hell do you mean?" "There's red everywhere, crimson red, I think--I think this time she's dead." And already a new world begins.

A Story Within A Story
On a cold and snowy night, three friends sit in front of the fireplace of an abandoned house, forced to stay there for the night after being caught within the storm. While stating which method each would take to save them from this situation, the three began quarreling over who was the better witch or wizard. Clearly, said the girl, I'm the brightest, I know more spells that you two and magic values those whose intelligence is surest. One boy snorted, and replied, magic is only best useful to those with brave deeds to their name, those worthy of being heroes. The second boy glared the two, Both of you are delusional. In this world, there is no good and evil, but only power, and magic is strongest to those smart enough to use any means to achieve their ends. The three proceeded to quarrel and in the middle of their argument they heard a sound from the basement. We should leave it, the girl said, what if we go down there and whatever it is hurts us? We'd be putting ourselves in danger. The second boy answered, If we don't do anything, what if it comes to us, and we play the weakened side of defense? The third boy looked at his two friends Why don't we each use a spell and blast whatever's down there if it's dangerous, or keep it if it's good? Together, the three proceeded down the rickety staircase, the second boy with his lighted wand leading the way. In front of them laid a book that seemed to have been thrusted off the shelf. Ignoring the girl's warnings and questions, the third boy picked it up and read 'Magical Tales Through the Ages'. Oh, it's just some dumb story book, come on let's leave, but when he tried to put the book back on the shelf, it refused to be place and opened onto the marker in the middle: The Tale of the Three And A Half Sisters, read the second boy. Before he could continue, the girl picked up the book and began to read. As soon as she did, the three had grown smaller and found themselves in a different land, centuries past, in the same story they had just opened. This was the nature of ancient story books in the magical world, for the reader to live and experience the tale while hidden from view, being unable to be seen.

Long ago, there lived four daughters in a cottage in the countryside. Though three were blood sisters, prized by their mother, the youngest was found on the doorsteps in front of our story's humble abode one September morning, and the father took her in his arms. Several years passed on by, and the young girls grew into mature young women about the age of eighteen, ready to marry and lead a house of their own, and the little orphan grew to be fifteen years of age. But their mother had fallen very ill, and she saw it most appropriate to tell her daughters secrets she had hidden to herself for many years. She called to all four, mentioning that she had important news for them, and the father was pleased that his wife treated the youngest as her own, so he smiled and left the women to themselves.

The mother, seeing that the father had turned away, told the oldest daughter to lock the girl in the cupboard under the stairs, and the oldest, not caring for the orphan, did as she was told. After the door was locked, the mother set a spell to keep it shut until lifted on her own accord. Back in her room, the mother told the daughters of their origin. She told them of a world beyond their world, a world with magic and witchcraft and wizardry, a world within their very own, where only few know of, where only few could go. When asked why she hid this from them, she explained she wanted a simpler life for her children, she wanted her daughters to reach a reasonable age before they knew. There are both clean and dark arts, both good and evil, and with great power comes great responsibility. She also explained that they would first have to embark on a journey to prove themselves before they could become true witches or wizards. Only after completing whatever task that was set before them, unique to each individual, would they be able to begin using their magic. One of the sisters inquired of the tasks and the skills needed to succeed. The mother beckoned to the middle daughter and instructed her to go to the attic and retrieve a small, white box. The two other girls stood watching while their sister returned. Much to the daughters' astonishment, their mother conjured a key out of thin air and requested that the box be brought to her. Once in her hands, she placed the found the whole and turned the key four times.

Music began to play, the voice from the dancing figure within began sing. They waited until the music stopped, then the figure began to speak. Out from her mouth came a piece of paper that floated over to the mother and lay to rest in her hands.The paper glowed and floated in the space between them all. A different voice from the one singing the melody began to speak, and it was quiet and unchanging:To the first, born on the last day of July, your prize awaits at the other side of the river with two faces. Be cunning and daring, for determination and cleverness will be your guide. Magic favors those with ambition, to succeed with potential where others cannot. But beware of double-crossing and deceit, a man cannot exchange a stone for a diamond.

As the voice spoke and traveled along, the paper would rid itself of each word, and so began to disappear until there was nothing but thin air in front of the four pair of eyes, which stared looking on at where their messenger once laid. The next piece of paper floated from the elf glowed before them and again a voice started to speak, this time informative with an air of wisdom and authority:To the second, born in the year of the owl, look near for things that are far and keep your pace for time is on the side of the clever ones who do not dwell on dreams. Intelligence and wit will never leave your side, but do not fall pray to slumber or over-analyzation. Closed ears and a heavy brain cannot see the truth when voices echo in the forest.

The third piece of paper came forth and a confident and strong voice began: To the third, born as the last month dies, be brave and daring, for the nerve and strong hand are your companions along the path of chivalry that stands bold. But arrogance and impatience are the devil's play things. Be not rash, gravestones won't move for cowards.

After the last note disappeared, the mother put her index finger on the animated figure and bent it down and the piece returned to its rigid form. When asked why she did such a thing, the mother did not speak. Silence fell upon the room and the sun set, distorting their shadows on the walls. Come, the mother said, The night is making fools of us again. You are to begin your journey at twilight on the day the message is given to you, and you must complete your task by the dawn of the third rising sun. The mother left her bed for the first time in months and departed to the attic, after which she came back with a few items nesting in the hem of her skirt, and gave them to her daughters. To the first daughter, she gave a mirror made of the brightest adamant known to man, able to reflect an image miles away. To the second, she gave a map bearing a set of arrows that was also able to document the steps of its owner, visible only to the bearer. To the third, she gave a jar with one hundred of the largest, brightest fireflies in all the land, able to unleash the blinding power of the sun's rays on its enemies should its owner be in danger.

After a few hours passed by and the women became comfortable with the news bestowed upon them, the clock struck midnight and the mother urged her children to leave. Go, she said. The youngest daughter asked about their father and the mother replied, He knows not of the world that I have revealed to you, nor will he choose to understand. Leave him a note and place it upon his dresser during his slumber. Tell him you are of the age to seek men and begin a new life beyond the walls of your home, and that have chosen to journey the world together, for you are only as strong as you are united, and as weak as you are divided. After their mother's last words, the three daughters gathered their belongings and embarked on their journey into the dead of night together.

In the morning, the sun rose and the old woman gave up the ghost and laid rigid and cold in her warm bed, never to see the her daughters become a part of the world from which she left behind many years ago. The spell was broken and so the enchantment lifted off of the cupboard door and the young orphan was free. She ran to her father who had finished reading his letter, and upon seeing the girl, he told her, Your sisters have gone to find lives of their own, and your mother is dead. The girl never had love for the old woman and her children, but comforted her father in mourning and together they laid to rest the dead body in her grave. Unbeknownst to the old woman, her orphaned daughter, although locked away, heard tale of the magical wonders revealed to her sisters. The girl herself did not understand how she was able to hear, but her curiosity led her to the old woman's once lively room, and she did as she heard the old woman had done. She found the key underneath the bed where it had fallen and did not hesitate to turn it in the box until her hands turned over four times. Then the figure appeared and music began to play. Once the music finished, the figure began to speak in a humble, gentle voice:

To the last child, born with two mothers, magic values the hardworking and warm hearted, where the greater good of witches and wizards reside. Let your loyalty lead you to the right path beyond the mountains, but take notice of evil's temptations to sway you from the straight and narrow path. The snake Lucifer needed but only one try to tempt Eve.

As the figure became rigid, the young girl then went to the attic and took whatever materials she thought could prove themselves useful should the time call for them, and headed to depart from the house at twilight while her father lay asleep. To the only man I have known my short life, she wrote in a letter, I leave to follow a land where dreams come true. But I will not forget the love you have shown me in all my days. I will come again to you, when I am a woman. And so the young girl locked the door and began her journey off into the night.

On the second day of their travels, the three sisters came along a lonely, winding road and in time, each departed on their own way. Along her path, the eldest sister reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. She meditated on her riddle and thought about how an object could have two faces. She remembered the mirror her mother had given her and reflected it towards the water. The image of the river within the mirror began to swirl and spoke: Very clever, very clever indeed. Now, to get to your prize on the other side, your efforts must prevail one last time. I am an old river, without touch, and blind. Return to me a crystal harder than rock, tougher than steel--the many-sided adamantine. The sharp girl understood the river's reference to a diamond, but finding such a stone was rare, so she sought to take advantage of the river's lack of senses. She reached for the necklace she bore and slid off the Moissanite stone, the diamond's mimic gem, and threw it into the water, which gulped out, As you wish. A bridge appeared across the treacherous water, and the eldest was halfway across it when she found her path blocked by a hooded figure. And the Dark Angel spoke to her. He was crossed that she had succeeded by tricking the river, but admired her for her ambition. But the dark angel was even more cunning than she. He pretended to congratulate the eldest daughter by awarding her a prize for having been clever enough to evade him. So the young woman asked for magical abilities more powerful and unparalleled to any other in existence. The Dark Angel crossed to the end of the water, pulled out the diamond from within the deep, and so fashioned a wand that would always win battles for its bearer, and gave it to the oldest sister. Then the Dark Angel stood aside and allowed the woman to continue to her destination. So she reached the end of the river, finishing her task, and became the most powerful witch in all the earth.

Along her path, the second sister reached the beginning of the Old Witch's Forest long before midmorning. Confused on how to embark on the right trail, she took out the map her mother had given her and instead of showing her a blueprint of the forest, she saw the footprints she had taken to reach her current point. Annoyed at this discrepancy, the daughter thought and thought and realized her traces were the answer to the maze of the forest. She began to take the same steps through the woods that she took to arrive, and quickly reached a small hut at the end of the forest. Deciding she had much time on her hands, she proceeded inside. There, she made herself a nice warm meal, took a long bath, and embarked on a journey through dreams. When she awoke it was the morning of the third day, so she quickly gathered her things and found her way out of the forest. Well done, the wind between the trees ruffled, and the path quickly closed and rearranged itself into another maze. The voices of the forest guided her to a fountain with water unlike any other ever seen, and she presumed this to be the magic she deserved. The middle daughter was halfway from the fountain when she found her path blocked by a hooded figure. And the Dark Angel spoke to her. He was angry that she had made mockery of his time, but admired her for her intelligence. He asked her what she desired for having been wise enough to evade him. So the young woman required of him a book with all the secrets of the magical world. The Dark Angel took a strand of his hair, wove it with the leaves of the forest trees and created a book that had all the answers for its owner. He gave it to the second sister and allowed the second woman to continue to her destination. So she reached the fountain and drank from its spring, thus finishing her task, and became the most knowledgeable witch in all the earth.

On the evening of the second day, the third sister came to a stop at a wide, gated graveyard that seemed to stretch for miles. A rasp voice elevated from the ground and whispered in the wind, You will need to prove your strength among the ones that are no longer of this world. Show me where your ancestors lie, and I will reward you for your efforts. But be swift before the stroke of midnight, for the dead dance in the dark. The gate unlocked itself with an erie creek and locked again once the girl was inside. Hours went by and the girl had lost herself within the dark, but when twilight had struck, the graves started to come alive. Mortified, the daughter did the only thing she could think of and opened the jar of fireflies she carried, and the large bugs shined their light on the walking skeletons, burning them and sending them back to their homes in the earth. The daughter, already afraid that it was the third day, thought of the quickest way to search for the graves. She recalled a story her mother had told her about kin being able to recognize kin through blood, so she ran over to a spoke on the gate and slit her arm, letting the blood seep into the earth. Immediately, a red trail began to form, winding and leading on, and she followed it until it reached the graves that bore her last name. Remembering the riddle, she moved them and out appeared a passageway into the ground. The third daughter was halfway from the passage when she found her path blocked by a hooded figure. And the Dark Angel spoke to her. He was furious that her arrogance had cheated her way to victory, but admired her for her chivalry and offered her a reward. So the third woman required of him a sword that could heal the dead. This humiliated the Dark Angel of his own power, but he took a bone from his body, held it up to the full moon, and created a sword that could bring back the dead to life. The figure departed and the daughter reached a statue that granted her the power of magic.

On the final day of her journey, the last child had reached the mountains but paused at a fork in the road. On one side there was hail, on the other snow. She had brought with her rope and a knife. The girl decided that she would climb up to the top of the mountain, which would let her see the paths below. Although this course was more difficult, she was determined not to taint the memory of her mother by being a coward. When she reached the foot of the mountain, the rocks spoke and asked her which way she wanted to go. She told them that all good things are high up above, and so the rocks closed their paths to the side and moved no more. She tied the rope around her waist and began to climb, meeting many setbacks along the way. At last she reached the top of the mountain, where stood an old and withered tree. You are very patient indeed and true to those you love. Complete this last task and your magic will be granted from the skies above. I am dying at a ripe old age, give me something to restore my life again. The little girl thought hard on this. She could not make it rain, neither did she have water nor sunlight. She wondered how something could live on when dying and thought of her mother. I am her child, she thought, and therefore, part of her lives through me. So the little girl climbed the tree and cut off a flower with her knife and buried it within the ground. Quickly before her eyes, a sprout began to grow. Very good, child, you have earned your reward. And the little girl felt the rush of life inside her as she received the magic. The tree offered her its arm and she climbed down and continued along her way to a new path that had opened between the mountains.

The first daughter had traveled on for a week to the King's Palace to show her magic in a place that would give her recognition. She asked for a chance to prove herself and with the diamond wand as her weapon, she could not lose. When she came back with the head of the dragon that plagued the kingdom, the people praised her and the king made her his queen. An arrogant woman, she bragged to the maids of her magical weapon. That night, the queen's handmaid crept upon the oldest as she lay asleep in her bed. The jealous woman stole the wand and slit the daughter's throat, then escaped into the night. And so the Dark Angel appeared and took the first daughter for his own.

The second daughter found herself a house on Quiet Hill and made this her home. Here, she read her book of magic day and night, learning spells and growing brighter and wiser. Sad that one day she might die and her knowledge would go to waste, the woman sought out a spell to make her immortal. Blinded by obsession, the spell backfired on the daughter and turned her into a frail, old woman, and she died the morning after. And so the Dark Angel took the second daughter for his own.

Meanwhile, the third daughter had journeyed back her own home in search of the cemetery. Here, she took out the sword that had the power to recall the dead and sunk it into the earth. To her amazement and delight, the figure of the boy she had loved from her childhood appeared at once before her. Yet he was sad and cold, and inhuman. Though he had returned to the mortal world, he did not truly belong and suffered. The daughter, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed herself so as to join him in the next life. And so the Dark Angel came and took the third daughter for his own.

The youngest daughter knew how the Dark Angel had taken the lives of her sisters and she pitied them. She matured as a true witch in the wizarding world, was learned in the practice of the magical arts, and paid visits to her father. But though the Dark Angel knew of another daughter from a separate womb than the three, he searched for her for many years, but was unable to find her. It was when she had attained a great age that the youngest daughter passed on the world of magic to her children. And then she greeted the Dark Angel as an old friend, and, equals, they departed this life.

As the story ended, the three friends came back to their circle in the middle of the basement and the girl shut the book and placed it back upon the shelf. She turned to look at her two friends and smiled weakly, I guess we could all learn a little from this, then? The first boy made a noise in agreement while the third, hands behind his head, said, I still think there's flaws where some of them could have outwitted that 'Dark Lord' person or something, I know if I--- and his voice trailed off as they climbed back upstairs and shut the door to the basement, this time discussing if the magical objects were real in their world, and what each of them would leave behind if they were gone tomorrow.