As far as witches go, I am below average. The only gift I have is to bring snow. I think I’m kept around because I am the only one who can cast the damn spell.
It’s not a very highly requested spell. The city calls upon me only once a year, at the feast of midwinter.
The rest of the year I sit in the witches’ tower, practice my snow spell and read spell books.
I keep trying new spells. I believe that if I read them time and time again, my magic will learn and I will be of use.
Alas, I haven’t read enough, yet, none of the spells ever work.
I just sit there, staring miserably into yet another spell book, and all that I manage to conjure up is the frustration filled little piles of snow.
Strangely enough, the children of the city always beg me for snow at the height of summer. They pray for me to conjure snow inside the juice of oranges and berries they are supposed to drink.
They always smile when they eat the resulting mess of fruit and snow. I don’t know why. It’s just snow.
Snow isn’t anything useful.
People slip and fall in it.
People look at it at midwinter, and then have spells cast to get rid of it again.
But, one day, I will cast a spell that will be of use to the world. And then, only then, will I be worth something.
Who needs it.

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