《風與掃把的魔女》
在一座靠海的小鎮裡，風總是比別的地方來得更早一些。清晨時，它會輕輕掠過屋頂，吹動晾曬的衣物；傍晚時，它會帶著鹹鹹的氣味，從海面一路穿過街道。
在這座小鎮的邊緣，住著一位年輕的魔女，名叫璃亞。
她有一把舊掃帚，是母親留下的。掃帚的木柄有些磨損，尾端的枝條也不再整齊。但只要璃亞騎上去，它依然能飛，只是飛得不快，也不高。
璃亞常常一個人飛到空中，看著小鎮的燈一盞盞亮起。她總覺得，其他魔女應該飛得更遠、更高，也更自信。
她開始懷疑自己。
「也許我並不適合當魔女。」她曾這樣想。
有一天，小鎮來了一封信。信是給魔女的——請她幫忙送一件包裹到山另一頭的村莊。那是一條不算近的路，途中會經過海風最強的懸崖。
璃亞猶豫了很久，最後還是接下了任務。
她在清晨出發。風比平常更大，掃帚在空中微微顫動。她緊緊握著木柄，一開始飛得很低，幾乎貼著地面。
當她來到懸崖時，風突然變得猛烈。氣流翻湧，像看不見的浪。掃帚開始失去平衡，她的心也跟著慌亂起來。
「不行……我做不到……」
就在她準備放棄時，她忽然想起小時候。
那時，她第一次學飛，也總是跌跌撞撞。母親沒有責備她，只是說：「風不是阻礙，它只是還不認識你。」
璃亞深吸一口氣。
她沒有再抗拒風，而是慢慢調整方向，感受氣流的流動。掃帚不再顫抖，而是隨著風的節奏上下起伏。
她開始「跟著風走」。
風不再推擠她，反而托住了她。
當她飛過懸崖時，海面在腳下閃著光。她第一次飛得那麼穩。
傍晚時，她順利抵達村莊，把包裹交到收件人手中。對方只是微笑著說了一聲謝謝，但璃亞心裡卻有一種難以形容的踏實。
回程時，天空變成深藍色，星星一顆一顆出現。她沒有急著回家，只是在空中慢慢飛。
風依然在，但已經不一樣了。
她忽然明白——
每個魔女都有自己的風。
不是飛得最高的才是最好的魔女，而是能夠理解自己節奏的人。
回到小鎮時，夜已深。燈光靜靜地亮著，海風依舊。
璃亞把掃帚靠在牆邊，輕輕摸了摸那已經有些老舊的木柄。
她不再覺得它不夠好。
因為她終於知道，真正需要改變的，不是掃帚，也不是風——
而是她看待自己的方式。
從那天起，小鎮的人常常會看到一個身影，在黃昏的天空中慢慢飛過。
不急，不高，但很穩。
English Version
In a seaside town where the wind always arrived a little earlier than elsewhere, mornings began with soft breezes brushing over rooftops, and evenings carried the salty scent of the ocean through the streets.
At the edge of this town lived a young witch named Lia.
She had an old broom left by her mother. Its wooden handle was worn, and its bristles uneven. It could still fly—but not very fast, and not very high.
Lia often flew alone, watching the town lights flicker on one by one. She couldn’t help but feel that other witches must fly higher, farther, and with more confidence.
She began to doubt herself.
“Maybe I’m not meant to be a witch,” she once thought.
One day, a letter arrived in town—addressed to the witch. It asked her to deliver a package to a village beyond the mountain, across a cliff where the winds were strongest.
Lia hesitated for a long time, but eventually accepted.
She set out at dawn. The wind was stronger than usual, and the broom trembled beneath her. She gripped the handle tightly, flying low, almost brushing the ground.
When she reached the cliff, the wind grew fierce. The air surged like invisible waves. Her broom wavered, and panic rose within her.
“I can’t do this…”
Just as she was about to give up, she remembered her childhood.
The first time she learned to fly, she stumbled again and again. Her mother never scolded her. She simply said,
“The wind is not your enemy. It just doesn’t know you yet.”
Lia took a deep breath.
Instead of resisting, she began to feel the movement of the air. The broom stopped shaking and started to follow the rhythm of the wind.
She let herself move with it.
The wind no longer pushed her—it held her.
As she crossed the cliff, the sea shimmered below. For the first time, she felt steady in the sky.
By evening, she reached the village and delivered the package. The recipient simply smiled and thanked her, but Lia felt a quiet sense of fulfillment.
On her way back, the sky turned deep blue, and stars appeared one by one. She didn’t rush home. She simply drifted in the air.
The wind was still there—but it felt different.
She realized something:
Every witch has her own wind.
It’s not about flying the highest, but about understanding your own rhythm.
When she returned, the town was quiet, the lights glowing softly.
She leaned her broom against the wall and gently touched its worn handle.
She no longer thought it was inadequate.
Because she understood now—the thing that needed to change was not the broom, nor the wind—
but the way she saw herself.
From that day on, people in the town would often see a figure drifting across the evening sky.
Not fast. Not high.
But steady.
