When Sara was growing up, her "magic crayons" helped her escape the pain. Now as an adult and the world famous Art Angel, can they help her to find the life she's always dreamed of?

This story is dedicated to my Auntie Sara the Art Angel. Her beautiful creations both art and literary bring joy and love to all they touch. Yet as wonderful as they are, they are not the greatest gift she possesses. The greatest gift of all is the beautiful young woman herself. Auntie Sara you are a kind, generous, and gentle soul with so much love to give, and so many who want to give love back to you. You bring a smile to my face every time your pink wings hold me in a cuddle and I wanted to say thank you by coloring you your very own kitten tale. I hope you like it. I used my own magic crayons.

I would also like to thank Bill Hart for creating the Spells R Us universe where so much wonderful magic has been born and for allowing others the opportunity to play there, and of course special thanks to my cyber family who constantly shower this kitten with love and hugs and the encouragement to color. Without all of you, neither this story nor I would exist. Hugs and love to you all.

The day was coming to a close as night had fallen and a fire burned and crackled bathing the occupants of the house in cozy warmth and a golden glow. A young wife sits on the sofa snuggled next to her husband while their young daughter lays sleeping with her head in her mummy's lap. The woman gently caresses the sleeping angels face and smiles lovingly at her.

Today was her daughter's sixth birthday and the family is relaxing after the cake, prezzie and fun-filled day. The young woman is a lovely lady with mid-length chestnut brown hair and beautiful brown eyes. The husband is a handsome man with thick sandy locks and soft blue eyes. Their daughter is a beautiful little lady with long blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a heartbreaking smile just like her mother. She has a soft blue bow in her hair and a few freckles on her face, albeit some of those are faux freckles, remnants of cake and icing. She's wearing a lovely light blue party dress, white leggings, and before she slipped them off to snuggle, white Mary Janes.

The young mother groans as she hates to leave this cozy snugglefest, but the aftermath of the birthday blowout requires her attention just as the little girl needs to be cleaned up and put to bed. The husband gallantly offers to spare his beloved the clean up duties allowing her to properly send little sleeping beauty off to dreamland. The young woman can't believe her ears, as this is the same man who won't pick up his dirty socks, yet is now willing to take on the dining room disaster. When she inquires into his motives further she finds out there's an ulterior one as he's trying to get into her good graces so he can get into something else of hers. She laughs and tells him he must REALLY be horny tonight. Giggling, she says it's a deal and then picks up their little one and holds her close.

She watches her baby sleep, then looks over at her husband and asks him if he thinks she had a good time at her party. He laughs and then gently reminds her of just how much fun their little angel had today. She had her two cousins over and the three girls ran, played and giggled all day. She had both aunties there to spoil her terribly. She had all the cake and ice cream she could eat. She got more gifts than her room can hold and she had her mother and father here to share it all with. What more could a little girl ask for and how could she be any happier?

The young woman knew her other half was right and tears welled in her eyes. Her husband came over and put an arm around both his girls and asked his wife what the water works were for. She sighed softly, saying that she just wanted to be sure their little girl was happy and felt loved. The young man kissed his wife and then his sleeping daughter and said softly that their little angel was a very happy girl and no child was more loved.

The lovely lass smiled, as she knew she'd done her very best to be the kind of mummy that her little girl deserved and her husband was right. Their daughter's days had been pretty much love and fun-filled, at least for as long as she had been in their life. Even though their time as a family had been barely a year she couldn't imagine life without this little imp in her arms or the man who held her. She kissed her soul mate and then sent the brave knight off to attack the dining room dragon while she carried Sleeping Beauty off to bed.

The little one could really have used a bath, but it was a kid's holiday, so she gave her a reprieve and just stopped by the bathroom to pick up a warm wash rag and wipe off a layer or two of cake and icing from the girl's hands and face.

Mummy carried her daughter into the little princess's bedroom and it was indeed a royal chamber with a pink and white canopy bed, lace curtains, and angels around the room in a border to watch over the sleeping little one. One special dolly sat on a pillow waiting for her mummy, while stuffed babies overflowed from her bed and toy box. Bookshelves were lined with fairy tales, and then there was the princess's throne as her daddy called it. That was her desk by the window where she did her coloring. The drawers were full of art supplies like colored sprinkles and stickers and poster paint. Of course her true treasure was her coloring books and crayons and the little crayon cherub as mummy sometimes called her, had the biggest collection of those that any junior artist could dream of.

This kid went with crayons like peanut butter went with jelly and the combination of both was always sweet. Many a night the either or both of her parents would come into check on the little one and find her asleep face down on the coloring book, a crayon still clutched in hand.

Her walls were filled with her artwork and the best pieces of the collection hung proudly on the refrigerator in the kitchen, also known as, the Children's Arts museum. One very special picture had been framed by mummy and sat on the young woman's nightstand. She wouldn't trade that art treasure for any so called masterpiece hanging in the "Louvre".

The loving mother sat her baby down gently and then fetched one of the new jammies she had gotten her daughter for her birthday. Little angels adorned the pink cotton pajamas and she smiled as she remembered how excited the birthday girl had been when she'd gotten them today.

Gently she removed the little ones tights and wiggled her out of the dress. She really didn't want to wake her as her angel was sleeping like one, and she might have made it too, but the warm washcloth tickled the girl's button nose and a pair of big blue eyes opened and she sleepy smiled at her mummy and hugged her.

The young woman pulled her baby close and rocked her, hoping to send her back to slumber land but the mother rarely got off that easy when it was her daughter's bed time, as the child never liked to go to bed until mummy told her a story and then snuggled with her until she was fast asleep. Tonight would be no different and the sleepy child began begging for her story immediately.

The young mother would sometimes grab one of her child's fairy tale books off the shelf and read her a cherished story that mother's had put their babies asleep for ages, and other times her mother would make up a story special for her baby. Mummy was a wonderful storyteller and she had a muse, or moose, as the children often called it, that whispered original and magical stories which were enjoyed by children and adults alike.

The young woman asked her princess what story she would like tonight and the cherub smiled big. Mummy rolled her eyes and giggled, as she knew the answer long before a sleepy little voice begged, "Magic Crayons Mummy! Can you tell me Magic Crayons, puhleeeeeeeeeeeze."

The lovely storyteller sighed, wondering why is it was that kids seem to pick one story that they want to hear over and over again? The little one knew the story word for word and if mummy missed as so much as syllable, the child was quick to correct her.

The imp snuggled up against her storyteller, and her big eyes begging for the story. The young mother pulled her baby close and granted her wish. She kissed her little angel and then started the story. This particular tale held a very special place in her heart, just like her daughter did.

Magic Crayons was a tale that the muse had whispered to the young woman not long after her daughter came into her life. It was a delightful little story about a sad and lonely young woman who, with the help of a wizard and magic crayons, released the little girl within her and gave her the family and the fairy tale life she had always dreamed of.

It was the kind of short and sweet happily ever after that all little girls love to hear, but there was another story, a true one, one from which this fairy tale had once come. Now, neither mother nor daughter were aware of true story, as it had been lost in a wave that gently rippled through reality one day, changing life as we know it, forever. However, I pass this story on to you to keep, as its message is far too important to not be known. In parts, it reads like a fairy tale, and in others, a horror story, but I assure it's as real as the mother who holds her daughter and tells her the fairy tale version. I give you Magic Crayons.

Chapter One: I am Sara

Once upon a time there was a very beautiful lady named Sara. She had long blonde hair and big blue eyes and loved to wear bows in her hair. She loved pretty clothes too and her closets were full of colorful long skirts and flowing silk blouses.

Sara lived in a magical place called England and even though she didn't have a castle, she had a pretty little cottage fit for a princess. It was a warm and cozy little place full of all her favorite things, but the most wonderful thing of all was her room where she did her big girl coloring.

See, this lady really loved to color and she had everything any girl could ever want or need to make pretty pictures. She had a huge desk and a tall chair for the not so tall girl to reach it. She had shelves and boxes and drawers full of the greatest coloring things in the whole world and she really knew how to make them work magic. She would take a blank piece of paper, spread it across her desk and then start coloring on it with her pens and paints. By the time she was finished her creations were so beautiful and realistic that they would nearly jump off the paper.

Oh by far, she was the best big girl artist in the whole world and once people found out how good she was they all wanted her to color for them. Long ago she been named the Art Angel, and now that she'd become famous; the whole world wanted her divine creations.

The Art Angel had been making magic for a few years now, and had lots of money to show for her efforts. She was a beautiful woman, still young at 29, with a wonderful talent, a beautiful home, plenty of money, and had just come back from the best holiday of her life visiting Canada and New Zealand, so...she should be very happy right? Well...sometimes she was, like when she felt the magic in her fingers, and her naked toes wiggled happily while she worked or when she talked to her special friends Prue and Jenna on the internet. Yes, those were happy times, but there were also the very sad ones where she cried and cried.

Today was not a happy day as she frowned at her latest drawing. She crumpled it up and threw it at the rubbish bin, now overflowing with past failed efforts. She glanced at the calendar and counted the days to her next deadline and then sighed at the mountain of work she had left to do before then.

Unfortunately, that's the problem with being the best there is. Everyone wants you to do work for them and they expect it all to be angel perfect and they all want theirs done first and best. And Sara felt that everything she created HAD to be the best, because anything less wasn't good enough. Well, even for an Angel, perfection day in and day out is a tall order, and she would spend long hours day and night doing her big girl coloring, rarely ever taking a break and never taking a genuine holiday until this last one. It's no wonder she would get sad. She was so tired and overworked, yet her sadness went far beyond even that.

Maybe it was because she was lonely. She did live all alone in her cottage and no one came to visit her. She rarely ever left, preferring to have her supplies and such delivered. Now, it wasn't that Sara didn't like people, on the contrary, she was a loving, generous woman, and the few people like Prue and Jenna that she'd let get close, she loved with all her heart.

The problem was that she was AFRAID to be around people, AFRAID to get close, AFRAID to be hurt, and that was because she had been hurt very badly when she was growing up. The boys in her village teased and beat her. The girls laughed at her and shunned her. Her father hated her because of who she could never be, and then beat her for what she was.

Her mother had loved her. In the end, she'd proved that, but for so many years she had been afraid to show it, and the pain from that, had been equal to the worst beatings Sara had ever taken.

Why were so many people so mean to Sara? Well the answer to that question is also the answer of why Sara is sad most of all, and we find it the day she was born.

Sara had been born a girl stuck inside the body of a boy. How did that happen? Well … maybe an angel goofed and accidentally put Sara's spirit in the body of baby boy instead of a baby girl, or maybe the stork was flying and drinking and you know how dangerous that is, or perhaps it was even wizard's work. HOW this girl came to be born in a boy's body may never be known, but regardless, it happened and poor Sara was stuck.

The little girl inside Sara knew right off what was wrong, and she tried to tell her parents even before she could speak. She would reach for the girl baby toys and push away any boy baby ones. She would cry for little girl clothes and strip off the boy baby clothes any time she got the chance.

When she was finally old enough to talk she told her parents that she was really a little girl inside and her name was Sara. Sara's father did not believe her and became very angry. He shouted she was a boy, and for her to never say such lies again. When the toddler's frustration reduced her to tears, her father took off his belt and beat her until she screamed lies, and said she was a boy. From then on, Sara knew it wasn't safe to come out around her father, and she did her best to play make believe she was a boy whenever he was home.

When she told her mother that she was really a little girl named Sara, the woman was reduced to tears. She loved her young son very much but truth be known, she had really hoped for a daughter and in fact the old woman in the village who was said to know these things, came to her while she was pregnant and told her she would have a daughter. Her prediction had made the young mother-to-be so happy and she immediately selected a name: Sara. She knew her husband desperately wanted a son but she also knew what a blessing a daughter would be and was sure the little girl would soon be the apple of her father's eye.

When the child finally did come, everyone was surprised to find it was boy, save for her husband, who said he somehow knew all along. Now some three years later her son stood before her telling her that "he" was really a girl and "her" name was Sara. The child couldn't have possibly known about Sara, as her husband had forbidden her to ever speak that name in his presence again.

Sara, seeing her mummy cry, began crying herself, saying she was sorry and that she didn't want to make her mummy cry. The young woman gathered up her crying child, be it truly boy or girl, and held Sara close. She really didn't know what to believe. Everything she saw said she was holding her son, but everything she felt in her heart said otherwise. She rocked Sara until both their tears stopped and then finally came to a decision. She told Sara she did believe in her, but that for now, Daddy would not. The welts on the girl's legs and back served as a painful reminder of his disbelief. So Sara's existence was to be their secret for now, and then later they would find a way to make Daddy and everyone else believe.

Sara was so happy that her mummy believed in her and loved her, and mummy was just as happy to see her child finally enjoying him or herself. For the almost three years, Sara lived a relatively happy life. Each morning Daddy would head off to work and then Sara would come out to play. Sara had no brothers, sisters or friends as the nearest house was quite a way but she had mummy and she had her crayons. Sara's mother was an excellent seamstress and she was able to piece together a few small dresses for Sara, mostly bits of material too small to use for her own clothes. Sara would shimmy into one of her little dresses minutes after Daddy left and her whole face would light up. She wasn't allowed to play outside in the dress, just in case the rare visitor would come but she had full run of the house. The young mother had also managed to make her a rag doll that Sara named Maggie and she would carry her baby with her while she tagged after Mummy. She loved to sweep the floors and fold daddy's shirts and help Mummy make bread and pies.

She loved doing all those things, but perhaps her favorite thing of all to do was color. She could lie on the floor next to Mummy and color for hours at a time. With those vibrant magical sticks she could create new worlds where Sara didn't have to hide at all. In her colored pictures, Sara was a beautiful little girl, who played outside and had lots of friends and a daddy who loved her. Each day she made new masterpieces that absolutely astounded her mother. Not even school age yet, and obviously she was a gifted artist.

Crayons became Sara's best friend, and one that could go with her places that her dress and dolly couldn't go, because about four o'clock each day, the dress would come off, the dolly would be put away and Sara had to hide within the boy's body as daddy was always home by 5. Crayons, paper and coloring books however, were things even a boy could play with, so her father thought nothing of it as his "son" would lie outside on a lazy summer evening and color until the sun went down, or sit by the warm fire and quietly color as the winter winds howled at the window. Sara had to be very careful what she colored when daddy was home, but at least through those crayons and her days with mummy, the little girl lived.

Sadly, Sara's little world came crashing down on both her and her mother shortly before her sixth birthday. Sara's father came home from work early one day and slipped into the house without Sara or her mother hearing him. Not seeing his wife or son downstairs, and being afternoon, he assumed that they were up in the boy's room, perhaps napping. Quietly, he ascended the stairs and then slowly pushed the door open to his son's room. Instead of finding his boy asleep snuggled with his mother, he found his "little girl" in a blue and white dress, with her hair in pigtails, dolly in her arm and handing a colored picture to her smiling mummy.

At that point things became a painful blur for Sara: her father hollering, her mother screaming and herself crying. Her father angrily snatched the coloring from her hand and then got even madder as it was a picture of a mother holding her little girl, and Sara had scrawled "TO MUMMY - I LOVE YOU - SARA" under the finished toddler masterpiece.

Sara's father then got madder than she'd ever seen him and he started shouting things at her mummy that Sara couldn't understand, but they must have been very bad because finally her mummy just sat on the bed and cried. Sara tried to go to mummy, but daddy grabbed her and started smacking her. He ripped her dress off and then started tearing her room apart. He found Sara's other dresses and the few girl toys she had. He gathered up everything, even Maggie and all of her coloring books and crayons.

He nearly broke Sara's arm as the small half-naked child stumbled while being dragged down the steps. Sara's mother pleaded with her husband to stop, but he was too enraged to listen. He pulled Sara into the kitchen and in front of the wood stove. He opened the door and then one by one began tossing all of Sara's prized possessions in.

Sara screamed, "No Daddy pleeeeeeeease!", as she watched them catch fire, but Daddy wasn't listening and he wasn't stopping.

Tears filled Sara's eyes, as she watched the fire claim her clothes, her toys and even Maggie, her dolly. Then went her coloring books and crayons until all that remained was the picture she had just colored for her mummy. Her father shook his head and pointed to the colored pictures of the little girl snuggled in her mother's arms. "You are not this little girl and you never will be. You are a BOY and its time you start acting like one. Now say goodbye to 'Sara'."

Sara watched in horror as her father threw the picture into the fire. The fire blackened, then enveloped the paper, leaving it ashes, just like Sara's father had left her life in ashes.

Sara's father beat her hard that night and repeatedly, but the pain inflicted on her boy's body wasn't much felt so much after the first go round. Sara, like her picture that been destroyed earlier, curled up within, and her world seem to go black that night.

The next morning after her father had left for work she went to her mummy, hoping that maybe mummy could make everything better, but she quickly found out it wasn't the same any more. Mummy said she didn't believe in Sara, and that she wouldn't play make believe with her any more. She said it was time for her to start acting like boy, as she'd be starting school in just a few weeks.

Sara turned away from her mummy and ran up to her room crying. Sara couldn't have known that the pain she felt in hearing those words was equal to that which her mother felt in having to say them. Her mother still believed, but she knew it was a matter of survival now. Not just the two of them surviving her husband's rage, but of Sara surviving in the outside world. It broke her heart and her child's spirit, but Sara was going to have to be a boy, even if she wasn't one.

Sara passed the next few weeks before school in a mindless daze. She was so alone and not even with coloring book or crayons to keep her company. She spent of the time sitting on her bed and wondering what school would be like, and if Sara would ever have the chance to really go.

Sara started school with a glimmer of hope and bit of excitement. It was the first time she'd ever got to be around "other girls" and she found them as beautiful as all the ones in her coloring books. She loved their cute dresses, their long hair, the games they played, and the loving way their parents would hug and kiss them when they dropped them off or picked them up from school.

Sara was a girl, and she wanted all those things too, but whenever she wandered over to play with the other girls they would shoo her away and say she was "icky" and for her to go play with the "other boys."

Sara wasn't an "other boys" and she didn't want to do the things the boys did, so for the first few days she sat all alone at recess. Finally, Sara couldn't take it anymore. She was a little girl too and it wasn't fair she couldn't play. She knew she could get into trouble but she was too mad to care. She marched over to where the girl's played and told them she wasn't a boy and that she was really a little girl like them and her name was Sara.

The girls stopped playing immediately and then started giggling at what they thought was a silly boy. They called her a liar and said her name wasn't Sara, but the ugly boy's name her father had given her. They pointed to the short "back and sides" hair cut she wore and said that was a boys cut because girls have long pretty hair. They teased her about her trousers and shirt and asked her where her pretty dress was. They told her she was a silly icky boy and always would be. Tears filled Sara's eyes, as even her own "sisters" didn't believe in her. Sara turned and ran back up to the school as the girls began chanting her new nickname. "Sissy Sara, Sissy Sara, Sissy Sara!"

The teacher caught a sobbing Sara running into the classroom and hugged her tightly. She asked Sara if she was hurt and the small child just shook her head and continued to cry. Again she asked what was wrong and this time Sara finally broke. Her story poured out of her like the tears that flowed freely down her cheeks.

The teacher sat quietly until Sara was spent and then rocked the child in her arms. Her own tears mixing with the Sara's. Sara's story was incredible but it did make some sense. Like any good teacher she was quick to notice the children who were different and she'd noticed sad Sara from the first day. She had noted that Sara didn't seem to pair up well at all with the boys and seemed to want to hang near where the girls played. At first she attributed that to her shyness, and perhaps some curiosity about girls but now she knew it was for a totally different reason. That also cast a new light on her coloring work. The only time Sara ever seemed to light up was when she had passed out the coloring books, paper and crayons. Sara was by far the best young artist in her class, but it was her choice of subject matter that had puzzled the teacher. Sara would always pick the coloring books that most of the little girls liked. Her pictures were always those of little girls, and puppies and kittens and anything she drew free hand seemed to fall into the same realm.

The teacher didn't really believe that Sara was a girl any more than her classmates did, but she did have compassion for the obviously troubled boy. She told Sara everything would be all right and that she was going to try and help fix things. Little Sara thought maybe her teacher was a sorceress and could use magic to give her the little girl body she'd been denied.

When school let out that day and her mummy came to get her she was so excited. She didn't tell mummy what had happened, as she wanted it all to be a surprise. Well, Sara's surprise came that night but it wasn't at all what she'd hoped for. Shortly after Sara had been put to bed, her teacher paid a call to her parents and told them the whole story. She suggested that they consider counseling to help their son work through his identity crisis. Sara's mother said little more than thank you to the young woman for coming and her father smiled and said he would see the problem was taken care of.

After the woman left, he was true to his word. He woke Sara up and beat her royally, saying if she ever spoke a word of this nonsense again to anyone, he would cast her out into the woods where she'd never see her mother again and the animals would surely eat her. A bloodied and bruised Sara cowered on her bed, begging her father to stop and promising she would be good and never tell anyone ever again.

Long after her father had left, Sara sat trembling and looking out her window, wondering if maybe she wouldn't be better off being eaten by the animals in the forest. She drifted off to sleep that night knowing she could never trust anyone again with the truth, and wishing the angels would come for her so she wouldn't have to face the next morning.