The girl flicks the lighter and lights the candle. She looks around, carefully checking that everything is in its place – the runes, written in chalk on the bedroom floor, and the foci at each point of the seven-sided star – and then she pulls a scrap of paper out of her pocket: according to the books she read, the incantation she’d written down on it should do the trick.

She opens the window, nervously licks her lips, and reads aloud.

“O Spirits of the Woods, Earth, Rain, and Sky, holders of the Shining Throne, I beseech Ye: come hither, and grant my wish.”

Grabbing a safety pin, she pricks her finger and lets a drop of blood fall in the middle of the magic circle; then she takes a deep breath, and blows out the candle.

For a moment, there is silence. Then the moment stretches longer.

Nothing happens.

The girl sighs. “I’m so stupid,” she mumbles. Then she gets up, closes the window, turns on the heater, and walks the small distance to the bathroom. She needs to wash her face and get to bed; tomorrow is going to be a full day at work.

The room is still cold when she returns, and she frowns. Did she leave the window open, she wonders? No, she’s sure she closed it.

And then she sees Them.

They are sitting on the windowsill, bathed in the full moon’s light. They are wearing a diaphanous, pure white gown, and Their features are ethereal, Their beauty almost otherworldly; They have a smile on Their perfect lips.

“Did you call for Us, child?” They ask.

The girl hesitates; she hadn’t really expected anything to happen, as much as she wished it to. After all, magic is a silly superstition, isn’t it?

And yet, there They are.

“I… I did,” she replies. “But I did not think You would answer.”

They chuckle. “The spell was properly cast, the circle perfectly drawn; it is Yuletide, and a full moon. Of course We would.” Then Their eyes glint like diamonds in the snow. “Now tell Us. What is your wish?”

She tells Them. Even when They’re startled, Their face is still beautiful.

“Fascinating. It is truly a wonderful, amazing wish.”

They put Their hand to Their chin, and regard the girl carefully; she shrinks back under Their gaze. Then They nod.

“Twenty-one years,” They say.

It’s her turn to be puzzled. “What do You mean?”

“That is Our price: We will grant your wish, and take twenty-one years from you in return.”

A moment of silence hangs between them. “It’s so much,” the girl whispers.

“It is how long you have lived until now, is it not?” They ask. “We consider that to be an equal exchange.”

“How do I know You won’t trick me?”

Their eyes flash, but Their smile never wavers. “We never trick anyone, child; We simply hold everyone to their side of the bargain. A wish made with Us is a contract: We give what is promised, no more and no less, and take what is agreed on, no more and no less.”

She gulps. “Very well. I apologise for the offence, and I accept.”

They step down from the windowsill, walk to the middle of the magic circle, and hold out Their hand; she takes it, and hesitantly shakes it.

“The covenant is sealed,” They say. “Sleep now. When you awaken, your wish will be granted.”

Suddenly, she’s really sleepy; she has never felt this tired in her life. They gently guide her to her bed, tuck her in, and kiss her forehead as her eyes flutter closed.

“Sweet dreams.”

-----

The girl wakes up again as she suddenly feels cold. Where is she? She had been tucked in a warm bed just moments before, and now she’s out in the open, the freezing air blowing over her skin. And she’s being manhandled, moved, this way and the other. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s really disorienting and confusing.

But then someone wraps her in a blanket, and she finds herself snuggled in a warm embrace. There are voices all around; they are talking, but she doesn’t seem to be able to understand the words. But they sound like they’re happy.

As she falls asleep once again, she is happy, too.

-----

The girl is three, and she and her mother meet an old family friend by chance.

“It’s so nice to see you!” the friend exclaims. “It’s been so long.” Then she bends over to look at the girl closely. “And who is this handsome boy?”

“I’m not a boy, I’m a girl!” she replies; her mother seems startled, for some reason.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Who is this cute girl?” the friend corrects herself.

The girl introduces herself by her name; she’d never spoken it out loud before, but it feels really good to say it.

Her mother and her friend chat for a while, before saying goodbye. Her mother is silent on the way home; she seems to be thinking about something. When they arrive she goes directly to the girl’s father, and says simply: “We have to talk.”

-----

“Hello, dear, I’m Doctor Duane Morgan,” the tall man says; he has a sharp face and a wide smile. “You can call me Duane. What’s your name?”

The girl tells him; his smile never wavers.

“That’s a very nice name, it really is. Do you know what kind of doctor I am?”

She shakes her head.

“I’m a psychologist, dear. It means I’m a doctor of the mind.”

The girl looks over to her parents. “Mom? Dad?” she asks, in a wavering voice. “Am I sick?”

Her mother smiles and hugs her tight. “You’re not, dear. Doctor Morgan is simply going to explain to us how we can support you in the best way possible, that’s all.”

“Why don’t you go over there and play for a bit?” the doctor says, pointing toward a small table in the corner. “We have lots of toys.”

The girl nods, and complies; but she eavesdrops as they talk. Something is said about ‘affirmation’ and ‘social transition,’ but the details escape her; she’s too young to fully understand. But she does understand when, finally, the doctor and her parents tell her that all will be fine. The girl is happy.

-----

The girl is four when she goes back to preschool and meets her friends again. The teacher introduces her to the class by her new name, the one that makes her feel good, instead of her horrible old one. The other children don’t seem to care, and soon disperse around the playground; only one girl is left, staring at her wide-eyed.

“Yes, Annie?” the teacher says.

“Aren’t you a boy?” Annie asks.

The girl shrinks back a bit, and tries to hide behind the teacher, who smiles and pushes her forward. “Come on,” he says, “Give Annie an answer.”

The girl fidgets nervously, but then gathers her courage. “My parents thought I was a boy, but I’m not. I’m a girl.”

Annie keeps staring for a bit, then smiles. “Okay!” she exclaims, and extends her hand towards her. “Wanna go play?”

The girl takes Annie’s hand, and they scamper off. As they play in the sandbox, Annie says, “I’m glad you’re not a boy. Boys are icky.”

The girl nods decisively. “Yes, they are.”

She has made her first friend. She is happy.

-----

The girl is six, and she’s starting elementary school. Annie is in her class; besides her, there’s no one who knew her from before. On the first day she meets lots of new people, all girls: they tend to form cliques. They take over a corner of the school courtyard as all new incoming classes do, and chat animatedly among themselves during recess. By the end of the day, she has made plenty of friends.

It’s a couple weeks before she even speaks to a boy in her class: she drops her eraser and he picks it up for her, and they exchange a few words, which turn into a nice chat during lunch break, when he’s invited to join her table. On the bus home that afternoon, she thinks about her new friend, and how he’s very nice. Maybe she was wrong: maybe not all boys are icky after all.

-----

The girl is seven, and she has her first ever sleepover. She goes to a friend’s house after school on Friday with a half dozen other girls, and they spend the whole evening chatting, watching movies, painting their nails, doing each other’s hairs; the most adventurous of them even ask the host’s big sister to show them how to put on make-up. The girl’s attempts are really clumsy, and she doesn’t really get why someone would regularly subject themselves to that: painting your face seems really silly. And for what? To look nicer? She and her friends look very good even without having to resort to such tricks. But still, she enjoys doing those activities with her friends.

-----

The girl is eight, and she joins the Girl Scouts. Her friend Annie had joined the previous year, and spent every free moment talking it up to her; she finally caves, and asks her parents, who agree.

Annie was right: she really enjoys all the activities they do together with the other Brownies. Many are similar to what she does with her friends after school or on weekends, but others are markedly different; and the leaders always encourage them to try new things, even those she’d thought to be exclusive to boys – hiking and climbing, for example; she really likes those.

During the summer she goes camping with her troop: it’s the first time she’s ever spent more than a couple days away from home, away from her parents. She’s a bit homesick the first night, but after that she finds ways to distract herself. By the time she goes home, she’s already looking forward to the next year.

-----

The girl is eleven, and she has her first kiss, in the gym, behind the bleachers.

She doesn’t know what to make of it.

It does feel nice, that much is true; it feels soft and warm. It also feels wet, and a bit slimy. They’re both beginners, they have no idea what to do with their lips and tongue. It’s more than a bit awkward.

But all in all, she likes it.

“How was it?” her partner asks.

She considers the question. “Hmmmmm… I don’t know,” she replies. Then she smiles impishly. “I would have to try again to decide. At least a couple more times.”

Her partner smiles back. “Your wish is my command.”

They kiss again. And again. And again.

Two weeks later, they break up: a small misunderstanding spiralled out of control, and before they know it, they’re shouting at each other. “I never want to see you again!” is said.

The misunderstanding clarified, they get back together the week after that. Then they break up again, and again get back together. And so on, and so forth. First loves are difficult like that. Maybe they will end up together in the future; maybe they won’t. But in any case, what they are experiencing is important for them, and they will always remember each other.

-----

The girl is thirteen, and she’s trying make-up again; this time, her mother helps her. Unlike the first time, she actually does enjoy the act of putting it on: she has to be careful to obtain the maximum effect. First, a bit of foundation, then eyeshadow, eyeliner, and mascara, followed up by a bit of blush and some lipstick.

Her first attempt doesn’t go well; she wipes it off, and tries again. The second is an improvement, the third even better than the second. Even though she’s doing something subtle, she loves how the various colours highlight the features of her face without obscuring it: she looks… More grown up. She looks great.

“See? It’s not that difficult,” her mother says, smiling at her.

“Thank you, Mom,” she says, hugging her.

-----

The girl is sixteen, and she’s trying out for the cheerleading team; she’s always been athletic, so she has no trouble making the cut. She’s a bit hesitant the first time she meets the whole team: from what she’s seen, in movies, TV shows, and the like, she expects at least some of them to be real stuck-up bitches.

But she finds out she’s wrong. They’re all really nice: they encourage and spur each other on, they never talk behind each other’s backs, they act as moral support when someone on the team is having boyfriend problems (or girlfriend problems, as the case may be).

Under the guidance of the team’s captain, they even manage to make it to state level; the competition is fierce, though, so they don’t move on to the nationals.

The next year, her senior year of high school, she’s selected as team captain. She can hardly believe it; after all, there are several girls more deserving than her on the team. But the coach smiles and reassures her that while she might not have the best athletic ability, she’s really good at supporting and encouraging her teammates, and that is what makes a captain worth following.

She swells a bit with pride at that.

-----

The girl is seventeen, and it’s time for her senior prom. Her mother helps her put on her dress; she tells her she’s beautiful, and the girl just smiles in response. Every part of her, from the hairstyle to the make-up to the dress to the shoes, has been carefully selected: they spent the whole afternoon getting ready for the big night.

The doorbell rings: her date is here. She hears her father calling for her from downstairs, and she slowly and carefully descends the staircase.

“You look amazing,” her date says.

“Thank you,” she replies. “You look amazing too.”

They look each other in the eyes for a few moments, and then they hold hands and walk to the car.

That night is wonderful, simply perfect; she feels like Cinderella at the Prince’s Ball, only she doesn’t have to run away once the clock strikes midnight. She doesn’t make Queen of the Prom, but it doesn’t matter: she’s still extremely happy.

-----

The girl is eighteen, and she’s leaving for college. Her parents hug her before she passes through security at the airport. They tell her to be careful, and to keep in touch, and she rolls her eyes a bit at that: her parents have always been worry-warts. But she loves them dearly.

She tells them she will see them at Thanksgiving, grabs her suitcase, and she’s off. It will be her first time living away from home: new people, new environment, new experiences. She can’t wait, even though she’s a bit sad at leaving home behind.

-----

The girl is nineteen, and she’s on the soccer team in college; she’s always liked sports, and this gives her a chance to bond with other girls at her school. Her team is especially good, and they make it to the nationals; she only plays for a few minutes at the end of a game, as a substitute, but she still enjoys it. The following year she’s sure she’ll make the first team. She’s looking forward to it.

-----

The girl is twenty-one, and it’s Christmas Eve: like every year, she’s spending the day with her family. The whole afternoon she’s in her parents’ living room, chatting with them and her siblings, petting the cat, lounging on the couch, and just relaxing.

Then, just before seven, she looks up, and sees Them out of the window, standing near the edge of the forest, under the falling snow. And she remembers.

She puts on her coat, and steps up to the door.

“Where are you going?” her mother asks.

“Oh, nowhere,” the girl replies. “I just wanted to take a walk before dinner.”

Her mother looks at her. “Hold on,” she says. She roots through a closet, and takes out a scarf and a pair of mittens. “It’s cold outside, put these on.”

She does. “Thanks, Mom,” she says, and steps out to meet Them.

“You have remembered,” They say as she approaches.

“I have.” She’s smiling as she says that.

“So you know We have come to collect.”

“I do.”

They tilt Their head to the side. “Are you not afraid, child?”

Still smiling, she shakes her head. “I’m not. The wish You have granted gave me a wonderful life, more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. I’m happy I got to experience it.” She takes a deep breath. “But we had a bargain, so go on. I am ready. Take what is rightfully Yours.”

They smile Their mysterious smile. “We already have.”

The girl frowns. “What do you mean?”

“We have been… watching you,” They say. “We have followed you. We have witnessed your life. We have experienced every moment of happiness, every cheerful feeling you have had. We thrive on joy, child, and we’ve had Our fill. Twenty-one years worth of it.”

Her eyes widen in surprise and amazement. “I thought You said You do not trick people,” she says.

“It was not a trick,” They reply. “It was more like… a loophole. One We only allow the most deserving souls.”

Suddenly, the girl’s eyes sting; she blinks back tears. “Thank you,” she whispers. They do not reply.

After a few moments, she continues: “Well, I guess I should get back inside. It’s freezing out here.”

“Please, wait just one more moment.” They make a gesture and a beautiful flower, a rose of crystal and silver, appears in Their hand; They hold it out to the girl.

“Now, do not tell anyone We did this,” They say. “We have a reputation to uphold, after all.”

“I won’t,” she nods, taking the flower from Them.

“Have a joyous Yuletide, child.”

And then They are gone, as if swept away by the wind.

She blinks; a few tears fall to the ground. But then she turns around and returns home.

“Good, you’re back,” her mother says as she walks through the door. “Dinner’s almost ready.” Then she tilts her head to the side to look at the crystal flower. “Oh, that’s beautiful. Where did you get it?”

The girl smiles. “It was a gift. From a friend.”

SecretTransWritingLair

Zoe is a 30-something girl and trans activist who lives in Italy. Whenever she's not getting yelled at by transphobes she dabbles in writing stories, which can be found on her Scribblehub page