This is the fairy tale I entered for the Dungeons and Starships contest (I consider it fairy-tale like, at least). I fiddled with a few areas, making it a bit clearer in the beginning what's going on and some other additions along the way. It's still written in a quirky conversational first/second person in present tense, but I think it best matches what I wanted to do. Rating is G.
THE UNOWN SPELLING OF JIRACHI
Bound to my hand,
Break the secrets of the world.
Show me the words of Jirachi.
Oh, can you sing without a melody?
Can you laugh without any reason?
Can you make the hard steel sing?
Can you build a city with your mind?
Can you be strong when on your knees?
And can you love without any bounds?
Hey, some Unown have come out to play. (Laughs). Would you little letters like to sing with me? Tra-la-li, I see S and I see T, I see A and I see E, I see N and I see...
Oh, it’s okay, don’t be shy. You were looking for me, weren’t you? It’s clever of you, searching by the magic of the Unown. Arrange the letters to make words, arrange the words to evoke images and emotions... language is so wonderful. The Unown can take that which you feel and relate it to others in such a way that they can understand it even if they’ve never meet you. Clever little Pokemon; I like them.
Ha, and you even found a full set of punctuation marks! It must have taken a lot of work to find them all, especially that little semicolon. Then, what have you sent them to me for?
Just curious, is that it? That’s fine. I appreciate that. I know I’m not in the world very often. But you must understand, wishes are only magical if they are rare. If wishes were always granted, there would be nothing to work for, nothing to dream about. And I’d probably be quite cross and exhausted all the time. As it is, I’m happy, and so are the people I touch. That’s all I want, really, happiness.
Say, if you’re so clever, do you mind answering a question I have? I’ve been pondering over it for many years now, and I’m not much closer to the answer. My question is this: am I a Jirachi dreaming I’m a Beautifly, or am I a Beautifly dreaming I’m a Jirachi?
Oh, it’s not a silly question. Yes it’s obvious that I’m a Jirachi right now, but what if I open my eyes and wake up as a Beautifly? It’s much harder to answer this question when your body is in hibernation and you’re moving in the world as a dreaming spirit. Like I know your Unown are with you, but I see their spirits forming every word I speak.
It’s going to be very odd reading the results of this spell, you know? (Giggles) It will be like listening to one end of a telephone conversation, unable to hear the other end of the line. And must you be so serious and formal? If you pay so much attention to the rules, you’ll miss all the important things.
Hey, listen. No, I mean it, listen with your heart, listen with your mind. Listen to what your little Unown have to relate, about the voice of a little girl, singing a magical phrase. That would be my cue.
Shooting across the night sky.
Descend from your starry home.
Listen to my heart’s true wish.
Listen in. There are two children.
“Now you’ve got to say it,” the girl says.
“No,” the boy responds. “I’ll sound stupid.”
“But Nana said that’s what’s you got to say.”
“We went to a lot of trouble just to get to this place. I think that’s enough.”
“Nana’s always right,” the girl replies with disappointment. She believes that deeply.
“Now we just got to get our wish tags up there.”
The two children look up. They are on a small coral reef island. In the center of the island, there is a pool of water shimmering like a jewel of blue. In that pool of water, there is a rocky tower bleached light gray from the bright sun. On top of the tower, there is a steel statue of Jirachi, curling up as if she sleeps in midair. It’s a nice little statue, looking like it could grow colors and wake up, at any moment. A few colorful tags of paper already hang from the tips of her five-pointed hat.
At the edge of the pool, the children consider the statue. Would you like to know more about them? Unown, be ready. The girl is seven years old and her heart is mesmerized by tales from long ago and far away. She has black skin, like the darkest night sky. Her black hair has two tiny braids near the front of her face, decorated with colorful ribbons and sparkling beads. She wears a simple red everyday dress and tan sandals.
The boy is ten years old and his heart is mesmerized by the doings of famous Pokemon Trainers. On his belt, he carries two Pokeballs. One is clearly borrowed, as it has a sticker noting, ‘I belong to Coral Port Ferry Services. Please return me home safely.’ He is black skinned too, although slightly more brown than his companion... sister. He wears a yellow baseball cap and a white t-shirt, both advertising the Jasper Pokemon League.
But there is always more than just looks, my new friend. Every relationship is made of threads between two people, threads that say these two are siblings. Most people can only understand the threads as an invisible concept. But I can see more than just threads. I can see entire tapestries of communities and relationships. That is how I invariably know a person’s true wishes, rather than what words they spoke. Words can lie; threads can’t. The Unown know this is true. It makes them sad to relate hurtful lies, or even hurtful truths.
But you can’t see even the threads. It’s a pity; you could understand a lot by knowing the threads that connect us all. At any one place, at any one moment, there can be a thousand stories in progress. Any single person can be a thread to hundreds of such tales. Pay attention to your Unown and I will give you a glimpse of the children’s lives that brought them to this point.
There is Nana, an old wise woman that some take for an eccentric, who treats these two as her own grandchildren. There are charming tales of the romance that led to their lives, but sobering tales of tragedies and lives lost unfairly, at least to the eyes of a child. There are tales to learn caution from, tales to take joy from, tales to pull hope from, tales enough to fill all the libraries in the world and not be finished with the telling. So many tales from the tapestries of life, but now there is only one scene, and that is playing out before us.
“I can climb up there,” the girl says.
“You shouldn’t. If you fall and get hurt, it’s a long way back to Coral Port.”
“But I can. Call the Lapras; I can climb on top of his head and reach that ledge there, then climb up and put the tags on that statue. Other people must be doing that, cause there’s lots of tags up there.”
“I’ll do it,” the boy insists. “I’m taller and stronger.”
She’s temporarily indignant, putting her hand on her hip and stomping her little foot into the ancient coral. Then she relents. “Well fine, but you be careful, cause you got the Pokemon, and if you get hurt, you can’t protect us going back home.”
“I’ll be fine.” He takes the Ferry Pokeball and presses its button, releasing an elegant sea tortoise with a long neck. “Lapras, can you get me over there, then lift me up to those rocks?”
Being a gentle and cooperative creature, the Lapras nods and coos. He lets the children get on his back, then swims over to the rock tower. He even lowers his head to allow the boy to climb up easier. Sweet-natured, as most of his kind tend to be. It’s so terrible that they’re in danger of extinction.
“Don’t forget my tag,” the girl says, handing over a pink slip of paper.
“Of course I wouldn’t forget.” And he wouldn’t, even if he might tease otherwise. He’s a responsible older brother. He looks at the tag, bought from a temple in Coral Port. Do you want to see the tags too?
The boy’s pale green tag says, ‘I wish to be a great and famous Trainer.’ Fairly common wish, but there’s not much that I can do about it. Being a great Trainer requires effort and compassion from the person. As for being famous, I could manage that, but it often turns into something the person did not want. I’d rather not touch it.
The girl’s pink tag has only one word written on it: Luck. It’s accompanied by a scribble of an egg-shaped Pokemon holding onto an egg with a star pattern. A glint of threads interprets this scribble to be a Chansey. It’s rather charming, as the unskilled pictures of children tend to be.
“You’re only wishing for luck?” the boy asks.
“I couldn’t decide,” she replies, turning her eyes away shyly. “But I figure if I have luck, I’ll get something good.”
“If that’s what you really want.”
“Alright. Lift me up.” He holds onto the Lapras’ head, then scrambles over to the rock ledge as soon as he can.
He is careful, moving up the rocks to the statue. When he gets within reach of the nearest point, he takes his sister’s tag and does his best to secure the sticky part to the steel statue. It sticks fast, getting a grin from the girl. But when he goes to stick his green tag on, it slips out of his hand and into the water. He will have to work for what he wished for.
It’s actually fair, if you ask me.
I sing for love, I sing for joy,
I sing for it is what I have.
Ah, you’re back. We got cut off all of a sudden. Did you have something to do? I understand that your Unown are still getting used to this long-distance spell. You must be skilled in magic to get them to do this. But you have time now? Great. I was waiting myself for the threads to align right for my own magic. Now that it’s mid-afternoon instead of mid-morning, I’ve got a good arrangement. Look, over there.
Another pair has come to the island shrine. An older pair, the man twenty-one, the woman nineteen. I really wish you could see their threads; they’re so fascinating and elegant. They are friends, as they would say, but lying just under the surface are warm thoughts and desires for something deeper. While I could just have your Unown describe them as I see them, I’d rather you see them in another way.
Watch your spells carefully, for you’re about to see them through each other’s eyes.
She is, undoubtably, the most beautiful woman in the world. She’s not perfect, but that’s why she’s so beautiful. She sings in the church choir and she laughs with the sound of bells. Most of all, she makes him feel like he can be honest and still be loved.
He is a sweet young man, polite and better mannered than other guys. He listens well, he laughs infectiously, and he is helpful and kind. He is a carpenter and has carved pretty figurines for her. Most of all, he makes her feel comfortable and safe.
See? That’s much better than a physical description. Now, I must strum the threads. A burst of cool breeze ruffles the wish tags, pulling off a light pink one and sending it towards the young couple’s feet.
The man picks it up. “Whoops. Somebody didn’t get this on well.”
“What’s it for?” She leans in closer, sending a whiff of her flowery scent to him. His mind pulses with shivers of joy for that beloved feeling. “‘Luck’? Oh, this must belong to some child. Such a charming little scribbler.”
“We ought to put it back then. There’s no reason to deny a child a little luck.”
She smiles, adoring her friend’s actions. The tapestry here is lovely, despite being a test of two hearts. There was a heady romance a year ago, but outside forces caused it to cool down: others didn’t approve or understand, the woman has other suitors, the man is planning on going to other places. Although about to part ways, they have come to this shrine, for reasons spoken, unspoken, and misunderstood. In mere days, they will be apart with holes in their hearts that might never be replaced. They wear smiles, but already there have been eye tears and thread tears. That‘s one of the problems of seeing the tapestry rather than just the threads; I can tell when a sweet moment was really bittersweet.
“What are you wishing for?” the man asks, silently hoping that it includes him and does not include his rivals for her affection.
She fingers a blank yellow tag. “I’m not certain. Maybe I’ll follow this example.” There is a definite wish involving a child and him, although she’s hesitant to say it aloud even to him. So keep that a secret.
They both have strong wills, even when it works against their wishes. That’s something I don’t like about you humans. It happens often, that you give up difficult but more desired wishes for easier shallow ones. Shallow wishes, like being famous, rarely lead to happiness. You prize strength, but in this case, weakness is preferable. I’ll show you how. If I take this thread between their hearts and pluck it just right...
While they can’t know what it is, they both feel the vibrations causing their emotions to tremble. They still hold firm to prudence, though. A little extra push is needed. The breeze stiffens some, making a motion with her hair, causing them both to look at each other’s eyes. Surely they can see truth within the eyes, which will cause a weakness hopefully greater than they could withstand.
No, you two need to be weak. Steel must be made weak in order to be shaped into something strong. Let’s hold back the mental screens that keep him from saying what he really wants to say. Finally, he speaks. “I really just wish I could be with you.”
Their hearts seek to be as one again. The outside forces seek to dig their claws into the tapestry and rip them apart. Don’t look away, girl.
He’s already lost to his emotions. His mind is working rapidly under that high. “You could come with me, you know. If we leave right now, no one will be able to stop us. It’s going to be hard, but we’ll find a way. I’m sure we will.”
Hmm. I can only do so much, my friend. I can’t force anyone to do anything, just influence. But you never get a wish that you deny yourself, which lead some people to believe that I’m not really that powerful. If they could only see how much it takes to affect the threads, as you see now.
That idea could work. I touch his hand in encouragement. Young man, touch her now, or lose her.
He takes her hand and slips his fingers between hers. For that, she pulls him closer and kisses him. A brilliant fire of passion blooms from their souls.
(Laughs) No, it’s true! You can’t see that sort of thing, although I’m sure you can feel it. Have you ever felt passion like that? Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. And I shouldn’t waste time. I’ll just take this ethereal petal of passion and press it into the paper... what? I can weave laughter and braid tears. A part of their passion now resides within this wish tag as its first enchantment.
“What should we put up there?” the young man asks.
“What could we wish for that we don’t already have?” Good one. She takes his hand that holds the pink tag and adds, “But we should return... is this sparkling?”
Another gust of wind yanks the tag from their hands and sends it high into the air. Come, let’s chase it and keep it aloft! There’s still much to be done. And I’m sure that as they feel with their hearts, they’ll see me for a brief moment, still laughing. Lovers are incredibly sensitive to magic.
The sea, the sea,
under the sky,
wild, wide, and free,
respect the sea.
The Sea of Jasper is wide and blue, darker than the sky above, as wild as the ocean it connects to. The wish tag flips and twists in the wind, dodging the waves and following our path. I’ve spotted a thread that could be of use to my tag, and if we just find the connection point... oh, but I think we’ve arrived in the middle of a scene. It’s that fishing boat up ahead.
It’s old, white, and twelve feet long. There’s a man and his teenaged son on board, fishing. While they aren’t suffering from poverty, they’ve worked hard for their simple life. Not like the man and son who have passed on from this point. Those two have money, enough to buy a fast motorboat that only serves to scare away fish from this old boat here. Some people are so thoughtless; I tend to ignore those people. Let’s sit by this fishing net for a bit and leave the tag right here.
“Don’t let them get to you,” the father says. “Their lives may be gilded in gold, but the fruit underneath is bitter.”
The boy tries to swallow his father’s advice, but it’s bitter to him. He’s rivals with the other son as much as the fathers had been (and still are, to tell the truth). He dislikes how the rival gets rewarded visibly for being born into wealth, while he gets nothing ‘real’ for his simple faith. It’s eroding that faith away, how sad. Not yet to the point of collapse, but enough to put him ill at ease.
If we look at the tapestry here, you’ll see that this father is right. The rich family is shattered, barely trusting and loving each other. Meanwhile, the simpler family is strong and supportive. They will be rewarded in the long run with continued happiness. But the boy’s weakening faith could cause unnecessary heartache. I can prevent that, I think. (Giggles) Oh, but I hope he’s in a good mood. Let’s see.
The boy looks around for something to distract his troubled thoughts. Down here, kid, this pink slip of paper is what you want. It’s enough to cause a smile as he picks it up. “Hey, it’s one of those wish tags they sell at Coral Port.”
“Huh. Wonder what it’s doing here.” The man looks over the child’s scribble with a fond smile. “Remember when you set out to attach one?”
“Yeah, but it didn’t stick.”
“That would be Jirachi telling you that you can work for your wish yourself.” Smart man.
“I’m not sure why this didn’t stick. Maybe we can head over and try to put it back on.”
“Even if it’s not your wish?”
“It’s pretty lucky already in that it hasn’t fallen into the water. Might as well make sure it sticks.”
The father nods. “That sounds like the right thing to do. We’ll make a detour on our way... whoa!” He clasps his fishing rod tightly before it gets yanked out of his hands. “Something big’s on the line.”
“What is it?”
“Can’t tell, but I’ve never... help me, would you?”
The boy grabs hold of the rod as well, with all his might. “It must be huge!”
“No kidding... ack!” The two get thrown back as the pull on the line reverses. The Pokemon they have caught is rising to the surface without their assistance.
And Lugia is huge. It’s likely that you’ve never seen him before, so I’ll give you a short description. This graceful white legendary bird has a blue underbelly, a long neck like the Lapras, and powerful wings that work in the water as in the air. He’s actually a big softie; his wings are powerful enough to demolish large structures, like wooden houses. Because he hates being destructive, he lives underwater most of the time.
“What’s gotten into my wing?” he asks in a rumbling voice, in your language instead of ours.
“Oh, Master Lugia,” the father says, his voice trembling in awe. “We’re deeply sorry. We didn’t mean to hook you.”
“I’ll get it out,” the boy offers, carefully climbing out of the boat and dropping into the water.
“Ah. Take care.” He waits until the hook was out of his wing to admit, “I’m usually better about not getting a hook caught in me. Thanks for removing it.”
“You’re welcome,” the boy replies, getting back in the boat. The faith of both of them has strengthened, to the point where no one could weaken it again. Sometimes wishes have simple solutions. I’ll just take this strong faith and press a line of it into my tag. There, the second enchantment’s done.
Lugia slips under the surface, but comes back up immediately. “I have heard your prayers and praise. I appreciate that people still observe the old ways. Take this, and my blessings. It may protect you.” He passes on one of his smaller down feathers, still longer than the man’s hand. See? A real sweetheart, that’s Lugia.
“Thank you. We will continue to honor you.”
The legend glances aside for a moment and adds, in the Pokemon language, “<So it was your doing. I should have suspected it to be one of your games.>”
Oh, dear, sorry old friend. But it’s all for the best.
He nods. “<I know.>” Then he slips back underwater.
I don’t always get caught, but (laughs nervously). Anyhow, my new friend, have you ever flown above the clouds?
Dance to your heart beat,
Dance to the sun beams.
Dance away so high,
That you climb above the sky.
High in the sky, dancing through the clouds, above the clouds. I wonder, does Cresselia let you remember your dreams? The way you move through dreams is kind of like how I move as a spirit.
You want to know a bit more about me? If you like, I’ll let you know. No, I’m not a great singer. I’m not even good at singing, to tell the truth; can’t carry a tune or match a note at all. I still sing, though, for joy and for peace. I sing whatever comes to my mind. I suppose that’s a nice thing about being a spirit, that hardly anyone can hear my awful singing (laughs).
I have several shrines throughout the world, like the one we were recently at. My body resides at one... but I won’t reveal which one it is. Sorry, but it’s for my own safety. A long time ago, in the time of ancient tales, I was captured by an evil man. I was taken for a slave. It was a hard time, and I don’t like to linger on those memories long. None of the wishes I granted then bestowed happiness, not even to my captor. He thought he was happy, but all he was doing was dulling the pain of his own evil heart.
Oh, the full tale has been recorded by the Unown elsewhere. If... you think you can find it? Thanks. Anyhow, I was save by a hero with a kind heart. He let me go free without a single wish for himself, so I granted the wish that lay in the secrets of his heart. After that, I had my body sealed away.
At certain times, a special comet appears in the skies, and then I enter my physical body for a week. It’s to keep a promise I made in another story. When the comet is not in the sky, I’m a free spirit, unseen except under special circumstances, like your Unown spell or to the eyes of our young lovers. While not as powerful in this form, I can still have fun with the tapestries of life.
And something intriguing has appeared high above the clouds. We should hurry upwards. Be careful of getting damp and cold in these clouds, little Unown. I can’t let my tag get ruined now, not with two of the three enchantments it needs, so I must pay attention to it. And look, there’s a Pidgeot flying right for us. No, don’t leave. We need to catch it, or more specifically, the person on his back.
The mail carrier plucks the piece of paper off her face. She’s puzzled as she looks over it. You can hear it in her thoughts. ‘How’s this gotten so high up? Are the winds worse than I thought?’
Concerned about the weather at this altitude, she taps twice on the Pidgeot’s head, then once a couple of inches down, then once more another couple of inches down. Understanding that code, the Pidgeot descends to below the clouds and along an important thread. This’ll be great fun, you’ll see. With just a quick tug, we can...
The mail carrier glances aside as she spots another Pidgeot with a rider. As she goes to give a friendly wave, she notices the bright red hair of the female rider. Wondering, she instructs her Pidgeot to go closer until the two Pokemon and the two humans recognize each other. The red-haired rider grins widely. The mail carrier returns the grin, giving instructions to land. The two Pidgeots call to each other, almost excited enough to lose their riders. We can all be silly sometimes.
When the birds land, the two women jump off and hug each other. “Sis, when’d you get in? I wasn’t expecting to see you back here.”
“I know; I’m so sorry.” Her eyes are tearing up. “I was stupid. I was even considering leaving as soon as I was done, but I just... when I saw you, it was...”
“We watched you become Champion of Sinnoh,” the mail carrier says.
“Yeah, Mom and Dad were so proud. But they miss you terribly.”
“Really? I thought...” She shakes her head. “I really was stupid back then.”
The pattern of the tapestry here is a bit complex. Look at these lines. Uncertain parents tried to protect a rebellious daughter, both sides kept pushing the limits, little sister tried to make peace, when finally something snapped and the older girl ran away to find her fortune. Yet, in a shape that gets repeated far too often, she didn’t realize what she had until she didn’t have it anymore. An old story; I’ve seen it many times. But according to these threads, this family love is forgiving. They will be whole by day’s end. I can take the excitement of this reunion and...
Hey, wait a second, I just saw something. Inside the carrier’s bag are letters and packages connected to many threads. But this one, it’s going to miss a beautiful part of the tapestry by seconds. One thread, and it depends on the package getting delivered. We made these two happy, but this thread could have greater consequences.
“I’ve got a job with the post office now,” the carrier says, that duty drawing her back to the delivery.
No! No, you mustn’t. I know it’s your duty, but not yet, just stay a bit longer. Just a bit longer. Oh... there! That glint in the threads, that could buy us some time.
In response to my strumming, the older sister says, “Oh, you have to see the Pokemon I just got! She’s an absolute sweetheart.”
I hope that’ll hold her here long enough. I’ve already got this excitement. We’ll just hook it up to this important thread and we should be where we’re needed in no time. My friend, please hope that we can make this work. Perhaps you can even have your Unown spell out ‘luck’.
Has your heart forgotten joy?
Sadness, lonely lost heart.
The paper trembles as it comes out of its rapid flight of excitement. It tumbles along lazily now. It catches the eye of an elegant Absol, who stands on her back legs in an attempt to snag the tag with her glistening scythe. Sorry, girl. While her aim was usually impeccable, she misses.
Instead, her Trainer catches it. He’s a man wearing a fine business suit of black and a perfectly knotted tie of blue with gray pattern outlines. He has an expensive watch that shines in the sun and gives the time of five different zones. And unseen by even his Absol and Fearow, he wears a heavy cloak of depression and emptiness.
He looks at the pink slip of paper, with its crooked letters saying ‘Luck’ and its childish scribble that might be a Chansey. His eyes softens for a moment and he sighs. If you were here, you might miss that rich but faint sound. His Absol had predicted a great fiery disaster, but had been unable to do anything about it, and thus the man’s great loss, thus his depression, thus the gaping hole in his heart.
Oh dear... that slight sigh has enough weight to drop me out of the air. I’ll just rest on the head of this Fearow; he won’t notice, so he can’t mind. This looks tough. I’m a spirit of happiness, so I can’t manipulate this dark depression directly.
And I can’t touch him well, as he closes his heart, as he slips the small tag under his clipboard. He doesn’t sure why he’s keeping it, but I do. It reminds him of old times and thus has put a crack in his emotional seal. But like the young couple, he can’t accept emotional weakness. He’s determined to keep professional, even though the money bought him no happiness.
“What’s keeping that delivery from coming?” he mumbles, glancing at his expensive watch. The package is from a client and is one of those very important things that needed to be gotten, passed on, and then never seen again. Right now, everything depends on the package. At least, everything that he’s allowing himself to acknowledge.
That kind of thinking is absurd to me, almost alien. But it happens in your kind often, doesn’t it? I suppose being mortal forces you to focus on the present instead of minding the whole picture.
Be patient, my friend. The mail must be slow, but what comes down the Route must be quick. As I said earlier, though, I can’t force anyone. There are times when I can only wish to make these wishes come true. And that means patience.
The man taps his foot, crosses his arms, watches the sky, grumbles, digs in his pocket, looks over his two Pokemon for something else to complain about. He feels like lashing out at the carrier for being so late. It’s awful. He’s not allowing himself to care, or even to consider that she might be catching up with a sister that she hasn’t seen in years. Not wanting to be hurt himself, he uses a mental defense that often hurt others.
I really don’t like such defenses. You should restrain yourself from growing such spiritual spikes.
Listen! There is the music of a child, a little girl singing merry nonsense songs. The light tune is filled with joy and heart, causing the man’s emotions to tremble in response. It’s not quite enough to break his will’s hold, but it’s progress. The song travels down the Route, coming towards the man, the Absol, and the Fearow. As it gets closer, the voices of a boy, a woman, and an old woman join in.
“What kind of Pokemon live around here?” the boy asks.
“There’s quite a variety,” the old woman answers. “Mostly those that like warm weather, unless you go into the Moonflower Caverns. Some are quite common, but others are mysterious and shy, only appearing to those pure of heart.”
“Are you certain, Nana?” the middle-aged woman asks. “I’ve heard of a great many ‘pure of heart’ Pokemon, but then you find them with less than stellar Trainers.”
The children cause his emotions to tremble, but the woman causes his heart to stop. His depression strokes his soul and insists that it’s impossible for them to be here. I wish he could hear me too. Yes it can be true! They can be here. Have passion, have faith, have hope, have love.
The group comes around the corner and the man looks at them. His heart goes from a dead stop to a heated race. He wants to speak, but his throat is suddenly dry and twisted. I can’t force him. But you can give him a bit of your magic, can’t you? Use your Unown; make him call her name.
Great, you did it!
“Dad!” the boy yells. The last reunion was a blast, but this one is an explosion. Wonderful! I could dance all night to this symphony of emotions. And just think: if that package had been on time, the meeting would have been missed by seconds.
“I don’t know how it happened, but I don’t care,” the man says, tears of joy flowing freely now as he hugs his wife and children. “I thought you were all gone.”
“We thought you were gone too.”
“Are you gonna stay with us?”
“I wouldn’t leave you for the world.”
Now that’s more than enough to finish this enchantment. I’ll take this rainbow ribbon of joy and add it to the passion and faith. I need to strengthen this paper so that it resists water, fire, anything that would seek to destroy it. To complete its looks, I’ll add a dark pink cord and tassel... add a golden bead to show how precious the emotions within are. There, it’s done! It’s a fine enchantment. Do you like it?
But now that it’s complete, it’s time to let it go. Go on little tag, over to the family and land at the little girl’s feet. She notices and picks it up. “Hey, this looks like the wish tag I put on Jirachi’s shrine this morning.”
Magic has a way of working like this. Didn’t you know?
“Yeah, it does,” her brother says. “Except the tassel.”
Nana touches it, then gives a mysterious smile. “Well, now this is a precious thing.”
“What is it?”
“It’s called Jirachi’s Lucky Tag. It will bring you great luck if you take care of it. But if you put it on just this morning... my, she must have been hard at work today.”
(Laughs) Oh, it’s all play. I do this for the joy of it. It will give the girl what she wished for, both on her tag and in her heart.
Your Unown seem tired. They did a lot of work today, but they seem happy. Continue to treat your letters well and I’m sure they’ll continue to let you see the world’s wonders.
This is goodbye, my friend.
It was good to meet you.
You may not see me again, but...
I might just see you.
If the Wishmaker could wish for anything, it would be happiness?
This requires consideration.
Unown, thank you. You are dismissed.