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Parking Spot Angel:
I was listening to an audiobook on spellwork and the author encouraged summoning the “Parking Spot Angel” for 40 days to prove that magick works. I scoffed at doing this. Not because I doubt magick but because I thought it was a frivolous use of it. Besides, I don’t mind walking. That afternoon, I drove to the supermarket where I usually end up parked in far away places. Not today. Lo and behold, there was an empty parking spot right in front of the main entrance waiting for me. I almost broke a nail swerving into it. Thank you Parking Spot Angel. I do believe.
Short story #1.
It’s all about me.
My grade school art teacher never approved of me.
I didn’t know that at the age of seven, my talent had surpassed his. I was a daily reminder of his mediocrity as I scribbled masterpieces on rough manila colored paper with a broken crayon at my desk.
Initially, my parents praised me then they discouraged me. Unaware of its contents, I had carried home a sealed note addressed to their attention. In the note, the art teacher had written that I might be better suited towards playing soccer or the piano. Better to crush my misguided artistic aspirations now than have my heart shattered at a gallery opening later in life. I have never recovered from this betrayal.
Desperate to remain unique and clever, I began to write my homework assignments in Russian which none of my teachers could read. And thus, I failed the second grade at the Pleasant Way Elementary School due to other people’s limitations.
Red Velvet Jones 