Flying from the blackness, a small creature landed gently on the edge of the windowsill. He stared, then peeked through the wooden shutters, slowly pulling a notebook from his pocket. He looked over his shoulder: 2655 Kenzington Avenue, he was at the right place.

He carried a chestnut sack over his shoulder blazing golden light seeping through, he placed it on the corner of a single bed. His hands curled into a ball. Quietly, he shifted the bag and out came an egg, he cautiously cracked it open. A warm yellow serum ran down the center of a pair of ballet shoes.

A perfect shaped ballerina meandered until it reached the top of a small girls bed cover. It leaped and turned until the her mind turned to a dream, it was only until she woke up the following day will be when she knows magic is always real.