One day, Crumbelina found a magic wand lying in the grass.
It was not big or shiny. But when she touched it, the earth beneath it came alive.
Where the soil had been dry, grass began to grow.
Where there had been silence, a song appeared.
And where there had been sadness, a breath of hope arose.
Crumbelina felt joyful.
“Everyone should have a wand like this,” she thought.
But then she saw something that made her heart tighten.
Someone else was holding the same wand.
Not gently — but tightly.
And instead of turning a desert into a garden,
they struck another with it.
Tears filled Crumbelina’s eyes.
Not from anger — but from sadness.
She whispered:
“It is like finding a magic wand
that can turn a desert into a garden,
and using it instead
to hurt someone.”
In that moment, she understood something very important:
power itself is neither good nor bad.
What matters is only
what lives in the heart
and in the hand that holds it.
And so Crumbelina placed the wand back on the ground.
Not because she was afraid of it.
But because she knew
that true magic
never needs to harm
to prove that it exists.