Books are a uniquely portable magic. ~ Stephen King

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

If You Dream of Fairies

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
If You Dream of Fairies - VII
If You Dream of Fairies - VIII
If You Dream of Fairies - IX
If You Dream of Fairies - X
If You Dream of Fairies - XI
If You Dream of Fairies - XII
If You Dream of Fairies - XIII

When Maria came back, Liz was beaming. “I want to show you something.” she said, barely able to contain her excitement.

She opened her book to reveal the sunflower petals. They had only been in the book an hour or so, so their natural tendency to curl remained. They were still fairly soft and supple.

“What do you think?”

“Well, I think they’re very pretty.” Maria answered, tentatively touching one of the soft yellow petals, “Where did you get them? We don’t have any flowers that color, do we?”

“They’re sunflower petals.”

“Oh! Cool! Sunflowers! Like you!” Maria touched one of the petals again, contemplatively, “But where did you get them?”

“The fairies left them for me.”

“Come on, Liz…”

“I fell asleep with Keebs and when he woke me up, there was another envelope by the tree.”

“Where’s the envelope?”

“Both times the envelope sort of – disappeared – in a puff of dust. Fairy dust.”

“Lizzie, I worry about you sometimes.”

“How can you not believe me? What other explanation could there be for my petals?”

“I’m not really sure, but I’m pretty sure the actual explanation does not include fairy dust.”

Disheartened, Liz returned to her house.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

That night she dreamed again of fairies.

She woke before dawn, hoping to catch sight of them again without the danger of Keebler barking. Once more she tiptoed down the stairs and out into the dew laden grass. She crossed the lawn as quietly as she could and lowered herself to her hands and knees when she reached the garden’s edge. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but once they did, she was nearly overcome with wonder. She gasped a tiny gasp that she hoped was soundless as she observed the fairies – there seemed to be hundreds of them, but she knew that couldn’t be so. They were talking and flying and laughing together as they sprinkled fairy dust liberally around the garden.

Liz clasped her hands in delight. So no one believed her? So what? She had this moment. This was hers. What did it matter that there was no one with whom to share it? She knew she would cherish this moment forever – quietly – in her heart.

At that very moment, one of the fairies noticed her. But instead of retreating into the tree, the wee winged being flew over to her and circled her head, tossing fairy dust into her hair. Liz laughed and rose to her feet, as gracefully as a ballerina. She twirled and laughed, the fairy meeting her twirl for twirl in a synchronous dance.

She closed her eyes and hugged herself. When she opened them, she was alone in the garden and the fairy door was closed. The garden was glistening and she alone knew its secret.

She smiled in her newfound knowledge and spun on her toes once before heading back into her house.

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