Hunted

<p><strong>Learn magic they said. Or at least shore up your paltry skills. Talk is cheap and that edict has cost me dearly.</strong></p><p>I had a comfortable life once upon a time. A quiet life. One where I'd carved a realistic niche for myself. No more. Power is seductive and a bitch of a mistress. Once I pulled the cork out of that bottle a million genies sallied forth.</p><p>None of them were nice. No one offered me three wishes or any wishes at all. I've been working my fanny off for the last two years. Most days I slog along from dawn to dusk and beyond. Sleep has turned into a distant memory. When I do lie down-or fall on my face which is what really happens-my mind whirls in circles as I relive the failures <em>du jour</em>.</p><p>And the very occasional success.</p><p>I am stronger. So much stronger it scares me. My talent sparkles flowing bright and clean. Soon I'll leave the well-hidden spot that's allowed me time to claim what's mine.</p><p>Whether my crash course in sorcery was wise remains to be seen.</p>