“Young people today don’t care about the old ways,” said the wizard.
Haazel had been a seller of magic paraphernalia for eighty years, so he knew his business well.
“Matilda, let’s head south early this year,” Haazel told his pet Throng.
When he was younger, the wizard was sought out by all the great magic workers in the land. “Young folk don’t practice magic. They’d rather listen to the radio and hang out at the malt shop,” said Haazel.
“Samhain will be better this year,” the wizard muttered.
After the war, older magic folk withdrew away from the spotlight of everyday living. The new science was more glamorous than the old ways, so the young followed it.
“You can’t blame them. Rocket ships and jets have their magic,” said Haazel.
The wizard locked the door, turned out the light, and headed upstairs for tea. “Night Matilda, the magic may return if the need is great,” said Haazel.
The wizard thought tonight would be a night of reflecting on happier times when the magic was strong.
He climbed the stairs to his apartment, where tea awaited him. “Yes, the magic may return,” said the wizard.
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