Believe In Magic

A baby leprechaun named Kiya must discover her own magic before St. Patrick’s Day.

Kiya is not green. Everyone in Bard’s Hall knows leprechauns are supposed to be green, especially with St. Patrick’s Day so close. Soon there will be parades, laughter, and celebrations of everything green. But today, all of them are green except one little girl.

Kiya was very small, still more baby than grown, and no matter how hard she wished or waited, she was not green at all. Her toes were pale like morning mist, her hands the color of soft clouds. Even her hair, which should have shimmered like sunlit clover, looked more like dry straw.

And St. Patrick’s Day was almost here.

Everywhere she looked, the other leprechauns glowed brighter each day. They laughed and spun through the meadow, leaving trails of sparkling green magic behind them. Kiya tried to stay out of their way, slipping behind mushrooms or ducking low in the tall grass, hoping no one would notice. Not being green made her heart feel small.

At last, she could bear it no longer and went to find her father. “Papa,” she asked, gently tugging his sleeve, “why am I not green yet?”

He looked down at her with kind, knowing eyes. “Ah, little one,” he said, “your green will come when you discover your own magic.”

“My own magic?” Kiya repeated.

“Don’t worry, you’ll find it,” he said softly.

Kiya nodded, though she did not understand, and wandered away still wondering. She went next to her mother, who was weaving strands of clover into a shining garland.

“Mama,” Kiya asked, “how do I make my own magic?”

Her mother knelt and brushed Kiya’s hair back from her face. “That is something only you can learn, my sweet girl.”

“But how will I know?” Kiya whispered.

Her mother smiled and kissed her forehead. “You will know when the time is right.”

Kiya tried to believe that, but her heart still felt unsure. She found her brother next, tumbling and laughing in the air as green sparkles followed wherever he went.

“How did you turn green?” she asked him.

He grinned. “It just happens,” he said. “Like magic.”

“But how?” Kiya pressed.

He only shrugged. And with that, he flipped away, leaving her standing alone.

By now, the meadow felt too big and too bright, and Kiya did not feel like she belonged. So, she wandered to the quiet edge of the pond, where the lily pads floated on still water. One large, bright green lily pad caught her eye, and she climbed onto it, folding her knees close as she sat.

If she could not be green, at least she could sit on something that was.

She looked down into the water and saw her reflection staring back at her, pale and uncertain. “I just want to be like everyone else,” she whispered.

The pond rippled softly, as though it had heard her, but it did not answer.

The sky above was beginning to change, and Kiya knew time was slipping away. What if St. Patrick’s Day came and she was still not green? What if she never turned green at all?

The thought made her chest tighten, and before she could stop it, a tear slid down her cheek, then another. She quickly wiped them away, but as they fell onto the lily pad, something small and glowing flickered into view.

A tiny fairy appeared, no bigger than Kiya’s hand, her wings shimmering like sunlight dancing on water. “Oh dear,” the fairy said gently, hovering near, “why is a little leprechaun crying on such a beautiful day?”

“I’m not green,” Kiya said, her voice trembling. “And I don’t have any magic.”

The fairy tilted her head. “Are you quite sure about that?”

Kiya nodded. “Everyone says I have to find my own magic, but no one will tell me how.”

The fairy smiled and floated closer, reaching out to lightly touch Kiya’s chest. “That is because it cannot be told,” she said. “It must be believed. Magic is not something you are given. It is already inside you. It waits for you to trust it, and to trust yourself.”

Kiya looked down at her hands. “They don’t look magical,” she said quietly.

The fairy laughed softly. “Magic does not always look like magic at first.”

Kiya thought about her father’s words, her mother’s gentle smile, and her brother’s laughter. They had all told her the same thing, though she had not understood it then. Her magic was hers, and it was waiting.

Kiya took a slow breath. “What if it doesn’t work?” she asked.

The fairy’s eyes sparkled. “What if it does?”

The pond grew still. The wind softened. The world seemed to pause around her. Kiya closed her eyes and thought of clover fields stretching wide and bright. She thought of laughter and dancing and shimmering green light. She thought of St. Patrick’s Day, and how much she wanted to belong.

Then, very quietly, she whispered, “I believe in my magic.”

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then something warm began to glow deep inside her, right where the fairy had touched her. It spread slowly, like sunlight at dawn, reaching through her chest, her arms, her fingers. Kiya opened her eyes.

Her hands were glowing green, soft at first, then brighter, until they shone like fresh clover under the sun. She looked down at her feet. They were green too.

“I did it,” said Kiya.

The fairy clapped her tiny hands and said gently, “You believed.”

Kiya stood on the lily pad, feeling light and bright. Green sparkles swirled around her, dancing in the air like they had always been waiting for her to join them. And for the first time, she did not feel small. She felt exactly as she was meant to be.

Kiya smiled, her heart shining as brightly as her color. She was green at last.

“Magic was never something she had to search for. She only had to believe.”
WC:993

Not included in word count the Prompts: Write a children's story about a Baby Leprechaun named "Kiya."
-Kiya has a problem! She hasn't got her green color, yet.
-What must be done to help Kiya turn green before St. Patrick's Day?
-Help Kiya, the baby leprechaun "go green" with your own magical ideas!