Books are a uniquely portable magic. ~ Stephen King

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

If You Dream of Fairies

Whimsical Wednesdays

If You Dream of Fairies
is a story I wrote for my daughters and niece last summer. I will present it here in serialized form. It was my first foray into fiction.

In case you missed something:
If You Dream of Fairies - I
If You Dream of Fairies - II
If You Dream of Fairies - III
If You Dream of Fairies - IV
If You Dream of Fairies - V
If You Dream of Fairies - VI

Liz got down on her belly so that she was eye level with the opening. There was a gentle glow emanating through the crack between the door and the tree trunk. She reached out tentatively to touch it; to widen that gap between the door and whatever magic was concealed within the tree. Her heart pounded rapidly as her chest and belly pressed against the sun-warmed soil of the garden. As her fingers barely grazed the top of the tiny door, it slammed shut.


Keebler had pounced across her and a quick slap from his tail had closed the door. She desperately moved her fingers around the outside of the door to force it open once more, but to no avail. The door was shut tight.

She glared at the little dog. “Keebler, how COULD you?” she admonished. He sat beside her, his little head cocked inquiringly to one side. Liz lifted herself to a sitting position as well and ran her hand across his little head.

“Aw, Keebs, you couldn’t help it.” It was hard to stay angry at a puppy, especially one as sweet and engaging as Keebler. She tousled his fur again then stood up to engage him in some more running. When they left the dappled shade of the garden for the sunshine of the yard, it became clear that the spots where she had touched Keebler’s fur had taken on a faint but distinctive glow.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When Liz’s mother called her in for dinner, she retrieved her abandoned book. She dutifully brushed the worst of the dirt off of her arms and legs and pushed her hair away from her face. Her mother smiled. She knew that children at play were bound to get dirty. “I’ll take Keebler, sweetie, you go wash up. You’ve got fifteen minutes till Dad gets home. We won’t eat till then.”

“Time enough for a quick shower, then?”

“Absolutely. And also, please.” Her mother smiled at her again. Sometimes she felt like she had won the parenting lottery. Liz was such a good kid.

“Use soap!” she added, as Liz reached the top of the stairs.

“You’re a laugh riot, Mom.” Liz answered flippantly. But she was smiling, too.

Liz enjoyed the sensation of the warm shower washing away the dirt and grime of her first day of puppy-sitting. She also, if she was going to be honest with herself, enjoyed fifteen minutes of solitude. Liz was an only child. She was used to being alone. Maria was always right next door for companionship when she needed it, and they were inseparable most of the time. In her own home, however, there was a lot of time left over to be alone. She enjoyed that. Keebler was fun, but his needs were relentless. Liz needed fifteen responsibility free minutes.

After she’d dried off, she turned to rinse the dirt out of the bathtub. It wasn’t necessary. The tub shined brighter than it did right after her mom cleaned it. That was weird. She knew she’d just showered a lot of dirt off. Oh well, maybe she’d just lingered in the shower a little longer than usual and the shower itself had taken care of it. Yeah. That had to be it. She finished dressing and headed downstairs for dinner.


  1. Damn, dog! I'm still on the edge of my seat about what's behind that little door.

  2. I want whatever that girl has. I hate cleaning the darn shower. ;)