A fairy, Christine, lost her wings on top of a hill overlooking the glen while watching the orange sky accept the setting sun. She did not think she was so old. She picked up her wings sighing “Oh!” and stumbled down to the glen on foot aided by moonlight. The other fairies greeted her with relieved laughter since she was gone so long and then tears when they saw her wings. Her transformation had begun.
Sylvia came to wish her farewell. She told Christine about the completed transformation of her fairy-child that morning. She cried and Christine comforted her.
Samuel came to wish her farewell. He told Christine about the completed transformation of his fairy-wife that morning. He cried and Christine comforted him.
Rose, another fairy, a teenage one, came to wish her aunt farewell. Her father told her she had to. She looked into Christine’s eyes. “Look deeper,” Christine suggested. To her surprise Rose saw her own eyes gazing back at her. She cried and Christine comforted her.
A fairy without wings can remain only so long. Christine regretted not doing whatever it was she was meant to do but did not have the imagination or the will to realize. “May I look into your eyes?” Rose wiped away the tears. When Christine looked, they both smiled.
Linked to Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt.
Photo provided by Sue Vincent for this prompt.
The chain of inspiration comes from Jane Dougherty’s challenge to write folk tales based on Jeren Nazuto’s poem responding to Jilly’s poem based on Jim Harrison’s “fragile wings”.
I walk toward Sunset Ridge Woods busy dreaming while this summer day is busy being beautiful. Last night I read a fable telling about fairies guarding a forest glen.¹ They punished cutting trees in their creative ways using the imaginations of the trespasser. They were more effective than fines–and swifter. Natural retribution could take years or generations. Those fairies kept the riff-raff in line–if you believed in them.
Today governments take over guarding forest preserves. Perhaps they do permit what some might call over-harvesting where it’s out-of-sight and wild. Like beauty, one guy’s rightful use is another guy’s misuse. Governments keep the opportunists in line–if you believe they can. I wonder how my mind would survive a trespass on a fairy glen? Maybe they still rule in these subtle ways even without my acknowledgment of their existence. If so, who could stop them?
SOUNDS OF SHRILL TRAFFIC
SUMMER WARMS THIS SUNSET TRAIL
SHELTERED BY STILL TREES
¹“The Man Who Had No Story” in Jane Yolen’s Favorite Folktales From Around the World.
Linked to dVerse Haibun Monday hosted by Grace with prompt “Summer”.
Photo: “Green Midsummer Madness” by the author linked to K’lee and Dale‘s Cosmic Photo Challenge with prompt “midsummer madness”.
While the fairy was growing her tail
And the ogre was drooling a wail
There’s that troll up on top
Of the dragon. We stop
To enjoy all that’s solid yet frail.
Written for the Limerick Challenge Week 36: Fairytale.
While algae’s greening in the swamp
And ogres in the forest romp,
The villagers would have a dance,
A masquerade, and take a chance
Some ogre with a fairy might
Pretend to waltz then start a fight.
They’ve never liked each other much
Although it’s heard they sometimes touch.
It’s even heard they sometimes kiss!
But I’d doubt all reports of this.
It’s rumored that they even love.
What can these fools be thinking of?
The dance will give them roles to play.
For some there might be words to say.
It’s safe to meet behind disguise
To look into each other’s eyes.
Of course, they know what each has done,
But from the present, who can run?
We’ll have that dance, no matter what.
Yes, worried folks will worry, but
Tonight we’ll take a chance on change.
Let something, somewhere rearrange,
Then, whether they like it or not,
They’ll get the love they’ve always got.
This originally appeared in Snakeskin.