Once upon a time, in a mystical land far away, there was a problem that plagued the inhabitants. There were three witches who lived in the town, and they often caused confusion among the people. These witches were identical in appearance, making it impossible for anyone to tell them apart. This caused chaos and misunderstandings on a regular basis. One day, a young musician named Maxwell arrived in the town. He was known for his incredible talent and ability to create music that could evoke deep emotions within anyone who listened.
The conversation was brief, I kept getting interrupted as the sparrows that seemed to be all over the Gili Islands had begun a systematic attack and were flying at me from every angle. I do remember the conversation being both compelling and in-depth.
She was quick to point out that apart from the pathetically weak bhang lassi a shake with marijuana in it I had tried in India , I had no experience with drugs. Chorus Austin Mahone In the night when the sun goes down And your wild side comes out Baby, that s when you shake it for me Soon as that door shuts Turn the bed to a club Baby, that s when you shake it for me.
He was known for his incredible talent and ability to create music that could evoke deep emotions within anyone who listened. Maxwell quickly became aware of the witch problem and saw an opportunity to use his skills to bring order to the town. Maxwell approached the town council and proposed an idea.
Magic to Do
“How can we use the written word as an avenue to promote activism, change or inspiration within our society?” was the essential question for the Writing for Change expedition course. Students in this course were asked to submit at least one of their written works for possible publication. Sienna Homsher ‘25 submitted her personal narrative, “Magic to Do” to Teen Ink for consideration. Her piece was accepted and published on October 28, 2022! Sienna writes in her Author’s Note, ‘In the spring of 2022 I performed in the show Pippin with a musical theater company in Boulder, CO. However, as we continued to rehearse and drew closer to the performance, we began to feel as if our characters were taking over. I learned the importance of good friends in a time of struggle and how we all wear a mask and put on our own shows in our daily lives.”
Magic to Do
by Sienna Homsher ‘25 Published in Teen Ink on October 28, 2022.
Frantic footsteps fill the space outside the dressing room. The air was sticky from heavy breathing. It smelt of dripping sweat and hairspray. The stench of unwashed costumes combined with the flurry of setting powder in the air made me choke. My head spun and faces blurred in and out of my vision. Pale, white faces, dripping in stage blood, decoratively painted, stared back from the mirror. Hearts raced, a stream of excitement, anxiety, and emotions wound its way around us like a snake. Fiction and reality wrestled in our minds as our characters began to take over. Suddenly, I was alone. My little skirt offered no protection from the cold, dusty floor. A slight breeze brushed past my leg, escaping from the door propped open. I was in the dark corner backstage by the door. The world spun and around me clowns and characters rushed to their places. I was protected from the swarm, hidden in my lonely brick cubby. No one seemed to see me, I was alone. My head weighed heavy in my hands and someone seemed to be pushing me into the ground. Was this even real? It felt as though someone had found the loose string in my brain and began to pull, unraveling everything. I’m not really here, this isn't really me. What is this? Where am I? I began to pass out. I couldn't breathe. Reaching out for the wall, anything to keep me steady, a hand gripped mine and the world went dark.
Rehearsal dragged on long into the night. “Again,” echoed throughout my skull. My muscles ache and my lungs felt like giving out. The bright lights seemed to drill holes in my head and voices rattled my brain. I felt like collapsing. My sweat ran lines down my forehead and my heart pounded in my chest. Another step, just another movement, just one more time. I want to leave, I want to quit. Anything to get out of here. Cold white lights bore down on me, burning my eyes. I reached deep inside me searching for any last spark of energy. As they demanded more, I found I brought less and less. Was I supposed to be here? Why am I doing this to myself?
“Rivers belong where they can ramble
Eagles belong where they can fly
I've got to be where my spirit can run free
Gotta find my corner of the sky”
As I sang those lines I wondered, was it true? Was this mine or was I simply lying to myself, forcing myself into this suffering for one moment of joy?
“Hey, hey what happened? Are you okay?” I shook my pounding head, trying to bring my view back into focus.
“Why won't my hands stop shaking
When all the earth is still”
The images spun, not registering in my brain. I lay on the floor, two people hovering over me. On their faces were painted eerie smiles and tear drops. One had a gash dripping with blood on their forehead and their face was white as a ghost. I recoiled, lurching back startled. It took a few seconds before I recognized them as my friends, in full makeup and costume, ready to go onstage. I began to cry, sobbing against the wall. My skin crawled and I wanted to scream. I couldn't breathe and my chest wracked as I gasped for air. I needed to get out of here, run, anywhere but here. I felt them grab me, pulling me up as I slid down the wall. Arms wrapped around me, holding me tight and hands rubbed my back gently. Their soft voices eased over me like a blanket. Shaking, I softened into their embrace. It must have been a strange sight, three clowns all crying in a doorway.
A hush came over the audience, the lights dimmed. I heard Carrie step onto stage, the microphone crackling as she announced the show. Pippin! The thing I had dedicated my life to for the past three months. And this was it, closing night. My head still spun. I was Pippin, I was trying to find my purpose, I was drowning in this endless sea. The audience erupted in applause and the bright spotlight lit up the stage. We took our places and the lights began to beat down like a thousand suns. “Think about the sun, Pippin. Think about her golden glance. How she lights the world up! Well. now it's your chance.”
Step right, leap left. Spin. Smile. Remember your steps. Breathe. Reach for the lights and let the songs envelope you.
“We’ve got magic to do. Just for you”
As we took our bows I watched the audience cheer. They beamed with joy, grateful for the entertainment we had provided. It was never real but they applauded nonetheless. They loved the show we put on. They will never know, never see what happened backstage. When your show is good enough, no one cares what it took from you to put it on. No one sees behind the curtain, no one takes off the mask. Don't we all go from one show back to another? We hide behind our curtains and put on our masks. We search for our mark, always feeling one beat behind. But we return to that show, day after day. It is far less glamorous, without the fancy costumes or dramatic makeup. No script guides you and no director leads the way. There is no music, no intermission, and no ending in sight.
Holding up a jug he threw in a large handful of mushrooms. He was just about to slot it into the blender when he glanced at me, as though he were sizing me up, before grabbing another handful and throwing it in with the rest. Laughing like a mad scientist he threw the switch and broke into a quick rendition of ‘pass the dutchie to the left hand side’ as we both waited for the mushrooms to be sufficiently puréed.
He would compose a unique tune that would allow the townspeople to identify each witch by the sound of her voice. The council was intrigued and agreed to give Maxwell a chance to solve the problem. For several weeks, Maxwell locked himself in his home, working tirelessly on his composition. He experimented with different melodies and harmonies, trying to capture the essence of each witch's personality in a single tune. It was a challenging task, but Maxwell was determined to succeed. Finally, after much trial and error, Maxwell completed his composition. He called it "The Tune for Identifying Which Witch is Which." The melody was enchanting, with subtle variations that represented the unique qualities of each witch. Maxwell was confident that his tune would bring an end to the confusion in the town. The townspeople gathered in the center square as Maxwell prepared to perform his composition for the first time. A hushed silence fell over the crowd as he began to play. The sweet sound of the music filled the air, swirling around the listeners. As each witch took her turn to speak, the melody subtly changed, matching the individual quirks and idiosyncrasies of her voice. It was a mesmerizing experience for everyone present. By the end of the performance, there was no doubt in anyone's mind which witch was which. The town was filled with a sense of relief and gratitude towards Maxwell for his magical tune. From that day forward, the confusion vanished, and the witches were able to go about their business without causing any trouble. Maxwell's composition became legendary in the town, and his fame spread far and wide. He continued to use his musical talents to solve problems and bring joy to people's lives. His tune for identifying witches became a symbol of unity and understanding, reminding everyone that even the most perplexing challenges can be overcome with a little bit of music..
Reviews for "The Enchanted Tune: Casting Spells with the Tune for Identifying Which Witch is Which"
1. Sarah - 2/5 stars - I had high hopes for "The tune for identifying which witch is which" but was ultimately disappointed. The storyline felt convoluted and the characters were hard to connect with. Additionally, the pacing was off, with long stretches of monotony broken up by brief moments of action. Overall, I found it difficult to stay engaged and ended up feeling unsatisfied with the whole experience.
2. Mark - 1/5 stars - I regret wasting my time on "The tune for identifying which witch is which." The plot was confusing and poorly developed, making it hard to follow along. The characters lacked depth and their motivations were unclear. The writing style was also unappealing, filled with excessive descriptions and unnecessary tangents. I struggled to find any redeeming qualities in this book and would not recommend it.
3. Emily - 2/5 stars - "The tune for identifying which witch is which" had an interesting concept, but it failed to deliver. The writing was overly simplistic and lacked depth, making it difficult to fully immerse myself in the story. The dialogue felt forced and unnatural, with characters speaking in a way that didn't feel authentic. The book also seemed to drag on unnecessarily, with repetitive scenes that added little to the overall plot. I was left feeling underwhelmed and wouldn't recommend this book to others.
4. David - 1/5 stars - I struggled to get through "The tune for identifying which witch is which." The writing was mediocre at best, filled with clichéd phrases and predictable plot twists. The characters were one-dimensional and lacked any real development. The premise had potential, but it was wasted on a poorly executed storyline. I found myself skimming through the pages, hoping for something more engaging, but ultimately felt let down. I wouldn't recommend this book to anyone.
5. Amy - 2/5 stars - "The tune for identifying which witch is which" fell short of my expectations. The plot had potential, but it lacked cohesion and felt disjointed. The characters were forgettable and their actions often seemed illogical. The writing style was also a letdown, with awkward prose and clunky dialogue. While there were a few interesting moments, overall, I found this book to be underwhelming and wouldn't recommend it to others.