A/N: this story was written in collaboration with the energy of the 9 of pentacles
Calamity B. Falls had spent much of her terrible, miserable life doing the same things every day.
She’d wake up, do exactly 30 minutes of exercise while her kettle heated, and then she’d sit on her patio, drinking an herbal tea that always turned her stomach. She’d watch the birds. After that, she’d sink into the well-worn spot on her couch and spend the rest of the day watching her stories.
Calamity loved her stories. They were the one bright spot in her dull little life. She was envious of all the events and mischief that other people seemed to get into. She was especially envious of the little writers who got to tell those stories.
Calamity had always wanted to be a writer. But her parents warned her that creative people ended up poor and alone, so Calamity listened. She became an accountant like her father, so she could afford to live.
Only, she didn’t get to do much living.
Her work started early, ended late, and left her with little time to herself. She had just her stories.
That’s how Calamity spent her life… until her parents passed. That left her with a childless home, a pension, and only a few bills. She was finally able to retire.
“A blessing,” her coworkers said.
Calamity didn’t see it that way.
She saw all the time she’d wasted. She saw the monotony of her life.
That is—until one morning, when she was drinking her terrible tea and saw it.
A magpie.
A curious little magpie…wearing what seemed to be a wizard cap.
She blinked hard, but there it was, hopping across her yard toward the stump of the tree her father had felled when she was a child. It knocked—knocked—on the stump, which opened like a door. Another magpie answered. This one wore a similar wizard cap and looked a little older. The two birds did a handshake: a hop, a wobble, two wing flaps, and a spin. Then the older magpie stepped aside and let the younger one in.
The door in the stump closed behind them.
Calamity waited. She waited all morning. The little bird never came out.
She wondered what happened inside the tree stump. She wondered what kind of business wizard-cap-wearing magpies had. She even wondered as she sat down to watch her stories. She wondered all the way to bedtime.
And so, the next morning, curious Calamity abandoned her tea and approached the stump.
She crouched low and knocked.
The door swung open, and the older magpie magician stepped out.
“And just who are you?”
“I’m Calamity B. Falls,” she said.
“Quite an ominous name,” he retorted. “What brings you to the Magpies’ Magicians League?”
“Well, honestly,” Calamity said, “I was hoping to get inside.”
“Oh no. No can do. Magicians only.”
“How do you know I’m not a magician?”
“You sure don’t look like one.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, for starters, you ain’t got no hat. And you most certainly aren’t a magpie. Everybody knows only magpies can be magicians.”
“I am a magpie!” Calamity protested. “I just magicked myself to look like a man, and I left my hat inside.”
“Well,” said the older magpie, narrowing his eyes, “if you can bring me a magician’s hat, then maybe I’ll believe you. Come back tomorrow with your hat in tow.”
Calamity sighed and went back inside. She watched her stories for most of the evening, wondering how on earth she’d get her hands on a magician’s cap.
And then it struck her.
She’d make one.
She gathered paper, markers, paints—whatever she could find—and crafted a beautiful magician’s hat all her own. She made it large, colored it a dark forest green, and covered it in big yellow stars. From the pointed tip, she hung a small, crescent moon cut from foil.
Calamity could barely sleep that night.
The next morning, she skipped her exercise, ran to the stump, and knocked.
The older magpie, now looking rather groggy, answered. “Oh. You came back.”
“Of course I did,” Calamity said proudly. “I told you I had a magician’s hat and would prove I’m a magician. So here I am.”
She held up her creation. “Here’s my magician’s hat.”
The older magpie tilted his head. “That’s quite a beautiful magician’s hat. It’s hard to deny you may, in fact, be a magician. But you still don’t look like a magpie. And to get through the door, you must be magpie-sized and magpie-shaped.”
Calamity paused.
He had her there.
But after a moment, she remembered her trinket box—something her mother gave her when she was young. She kept all sorts of bits and baubles in it. Shiny things. Just like a magpie.
“I could show you my treasure,” she offered. “Then you’ll have to believe me.”
The magpie magician considered this. “...Okay,” he said. “If you can bring me your treasure and prove you’re a magpie, perhaps I’ll let you in.”
Calamity returned home and, for once, skipped her stories. She dug up the old trinket box and waited for morning.
When she arrived at the stump, the door opened before she could even knock.
“Have you brought your treasure?” the magpie asked.
“Of course I have,” Calamity said.
She showed him her collection: a grandmother’s brooch, a pop tab she’d found on the beach with her father, two dollars in quarters, and a shiny, perfect rock.
“That’s a pretty good treasure,” the magpie said, impressed. “You’ve convinced me you’re a magpie. But you still won’t fit through the door. Why haven’t you turned yourself back?”
Calamity sighed. “I… I seem to have forgotten how. I barely remember yesterday. Every day’s the same since I became a man. But I know I’m a magpie. I know I’m a magician. I know I belong in the Magpie Magicians League.”
The older magpie rubbed his beak with a wing.
“Well… I may be able to help you return to your magpie shape. But first, you must prove you can do our secret handshake.”
Calamity took a deep breath. Then she did a little hop. A wobble. Two flaps of her arms. And a full-body spin.
The magpie magician was satisfied.
He granted her wish.
And so, Calamity B. Falls became a magpie and joined the Magpie Magicians League. There she learned about magic, and about magpies, and how to change back and forth between being a man and a magpie.
Eventually, she confessed that she had always been human.
The older magpie just cackled.
“I knew that,” he said. “I just wanted to see if a silly little human would go through all that trouble to pretend to be a magpie. And you did.”
After Calamity had learned all she could learn, she returned home.
Calamity B. Falls still did her 30 minutes of exercise while the kettle heated—but now, she drank hot chocolate with whipped cream. She still sat on the patio, but instead of just watching the birds, she wrote about them. And sometimes, the magpies came to visit.
And she always made sure to have a second cup ready