Coming of Age.
Matron went through her belongings, before they were packed into storage, held the jar out in front of her, and asked, ‘Why do you keep it?’
‘It’s all I have left from my parents. They gave me it before they d…’
‘You were five!’
‘Five and a half.’
She looked at the twig, stone, egg shell and piece of mirror at the bottom of the jar and brushed away an escaping tear as she remembered.
Matron reluctantly packed it away.
Now, seven years later, she was free of her boarding school and she had the jar in her hand. All day she’d felt an undercurrent of energy, an awakening, not just because it was her eighteenth birthday, but because she was claiming her birthright.
The empty jar hissed and crackled. The wand, scrying mirror, crystal ball and hawk appeared at her feet. Her parents gift for her coming of age.