The Magical Ink That Drew Tomorrow
Elise receives magical ink that brings her drawings to life for one day. She creates wonder, teaches her community to make their own magic, and learns that temporary joy inspires lasting change.
- 6 min read
Elise lived in a cozy apartment above her grandmother’s art supply shop, where jars of paint gleamed like jellybeans and brushes stood at attention like tiny soldiers. Every evening, Grandmother Maple would climb the creaky stairs, kiss Elise goodnight, and say, “Remember, little one—art is magic waiting to happen.”
But Elise had never seen real magic. Not until the night of her seventh birthday.
That evening, after the cake was eaten and the presents unwrapped, Elise discovered one more gift tucked behind her pillow—a small bottle no bigger than her thumb. Inside swirled ink that changed colors like a sunset racing across the sky: purple to gold to silvery blue.
A note dangled from the bottle’s neck in Grandmother Maple’s loopy handwriting:
“This is Tomorrow Ink, my dear. Whatever you draw will come true—but only tomorrow, and only until the stars come out. Use it wisely. Love, Grandma.”
Elise’s eyes grew as round as moons. She uncorked the bottle carefully, and the ink smelled like fresh rain and vanilla cookies. She dipped her favorite brush into the swirling colors and thought very hard about what to draw.
Finally, she painted a picture of a rainbow-striped cat with wings like a butterfly.
“I’ll call you Whisper,” she said to the drawing, before tucking herself into bed, clutching the picture against her heart.
When morning arrived, Elise woke to something tickling her nose.
A soft, feathery something.
She opened her eyes and gasped. There, hovering above her bed, was the rainbow-striped cat—exactly as she’d drawn it! Whisper’s wings sparkled with tiny flecks of gold, and when the cat purred, it sounded like wind chimes dancing.
“You’re real!” Elise squealed.
Whisper landed gracefully on her windowsill and meowed—a sound like a question mark made of music.
Grandmother Maple poked her head through the doorway, carrying a stack of fresh pancakes. When she saw Whisper, she only smiled. “Ah, so the Tomorrow Ink found the right artist. Well then, what adventure will today bring?”
Elise spent the morning playing with Whisper, who could fly loop-de-loops around her room and make butterflies appear wherever her paws touched. But by lunchtime, Elise noticed something: Whisper kept flying to the window and looking out with sad, golden eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Elise asked.
Whisper pressed a paw against the glass, gazing at the gray, empty lot across the street—a place where nothing grew except weeds and forgotten things.
Elise understood. Whisper wanted beauty out there, too.
That afternoon, Elise uncorked the Tomorrow Ink again. This time, she drew a magnificent garden filled with flowers that looked like fireworks, trees that grew cookies instead of fruit, and a fountain that sparkled with lemonade. She drew swings hanging from cotton-candy clouds and a slide made of polished moonbeams.
“Tomorrow,” she whispered to her drawing, “this will be real.”
The next morning, the entire neighborhood woke to gasps and giggles.
Where the empty lot had been, now stood the most spectacular garden anyone had ever seen! Children rushed from their houses, pointing and laughing. The cookie-trees were real! The lemonade fountain actually bubbled! And the swings truly hung from clouds that tasted like spun sugar if you jumped high enough to lick them.
Elise watched from her window as her street transformed. Neighbors who had never spoken before now gathered in the garden, sharing cookies and stories. A shy boy finally made a friend. An elderly woman smiled for the first time in months.
But as the sun began setting, Elise remembered Grandmother Maple’s words: “Only until the stars come out.”
Sure enough, as the first star winked in the purple sky, the garden began to fade like watercolors in the rain. The cookie-trees became shadows. The lemonade fountain turned to mist. The children’s laughter quieted as the magic dissolved into evening air.
Elise felt tears prickling her eyes. Even Whisper, perched on her shoulder, let out a small, sad chirp.
Grandmother Maple sat beside her on the bed. “Magic that lasts only a day is still magic, sweet girl. Look what you gave everyone—a memory brighter than any permanent thing. Sometimes tomorrow’s joy is enough.”
Elise thought about this. She thought about the boy who made a friend, the woman who smiled, the neighbors who finally talked to each other.
“Grandma?” Elise asked. “What if I drew something different tomorrow? Something that helps people remember how to make their own magic?”
Grandmother Maple’s eyes twinkled like the Tomorrow Ink itself. “Now that,” she said, “sounds like the wisest magic of all.”
The next evening, Elise drew something very special with the last drops of Tomorrow Ink.
She drew paintbrushes and chalk and crayons—hundreds of them, scattered across the empty lot, along with a big sign that read: “Free Art Supplies! Create Something Beautiful Together!”
The next day, when the art supplies appeared, something wonderful happened. The neighborhood children picked up the chalk and drew hopscotch paths that zigged and zagged like rivers. Teenagers painted a mural on the fence—a rainbow-striped cat with butterfly wings, flying over a garden. Adults planted real flowers and hung real swings.
This time, when the stars came out, the magic didn’t fade.
Because the magic was no longer in the Tomorrow Ink—it was in the people themselves.
Whisper purred on Elise’s shoulder as they watched from the window. The rainbow cat would disappear when the stars emerged, but that was okay. Elise understood now that some magic was meant to be temporary, to show people how to make their own.
“Thank you, Whisper,” Elise whispered, hugging the magical cat one last time.
As the first star appeared, Whisper nuzzled Elise’s cheek, then dissolved into a shower of glittering dust that settled over the garden like a blessing.
Grandmother Maple tucked Elise into bed that night, the empty bottle of Tomorrow Ink sitting proudly on her nightstand.
“Did I use the magic wisely, Grandma?” Elise asked sleepily.
“Wiser than wise,” her grandmother replied, kissing her forehead. “You learned that the best magic doesn’t just create wonderful things—it teaches others how to create wonder for themselves.”
As Elise drifted off to sleep, she could hear laughter from the garden outside, where neighbors were stringing up lights for tomorrow’s painting party.
And somewhere in her dreams, a rainbow-striped cat with butterfly wings flew through a sky full of stars, purring a lullaby that sounded like hope.
The Tomorrow Ink was gone, but its magic would last forever—in every drawing, every garden, and every act of kindness that bloomed from one little girl’s imagination.
The End.
Sleep tight, little dreamer. Tomorrow is waiting for your magic.