The following drabble (a flash fiction piece of exactly 100 words) was inspired by the picture at story’s end. Happy reading!
“I’m magic,” he told her. “I’ll show you.” And pulled out a violin.
“Violins aren’t magic,” she said.
“Not even from the air?”
“How jaded you are. But have you seen this?”
He touched bow to strings, and where they met, drew out a spark, the line of light like cracking dawn.
Starry smoke curled from the flame-like glow, spreading toward the sky. Colors tinged the haze – green, red, and violet. An aurora borealis born of a stardust song.
“New?” he asked.
“Different,” she allowed.
She smiled. “Magic.”
“And all yours.” His eyes stars, too. “Always.”
(Enjoyed what I wrote? There’s loads more where that came from! Browse the DEShipley catalogue, why dontcha.)