Fairy Stories & Other Tales

Once upon a time there was a garden.   It was filled with buds and near-blooms and branches laden with leaves about to burst.   A thick ancient wall encircled the garden, one that had no door.   And so it had remained, wild and empty, for century upon century.             So it was that one day a little boy, born under the boughs of a hemlock tree in the middle of winter where he was all that survived the night, found the stone wall before him.   Forced to wander for bread, he had travelled far and wide.   And when he came upon the ancient barrier, he circled round only to find he had come completely around without sight of door, nor crease, nor crack—nothing to tell him what it was that lay inside.             Such was his intent study of the wall that the sound of a cough caused him to jump and swing about in a sudden, startled motion.   His g...

Once upon a time when the wind was cold, the trees damp with fog, and the air thick with magic, a portly badger crawled into view and parked itself in front of an Enchanted Forest. 'Hail, Forest,' the creature said, its breathing heavy as though it had come a long way. The hail was met with silence.  And then a swift breeze moved through branches — almost the sound of a sniff. The badger raised a skeptical brow, but said all the same, 'You can go on pretending, if you'd like.  But I have tidings that you may want to hear.' Still silence met the creatures gaze, who gave a small smile, and propped its furry head upon its paw. A wind moved this time, a sound that resembled a sigh. And then the Enchanted Forest spoke. 'Alright, let's have it,' the Enchanted Forest said. 'Ha ha!' exclaimed the creature with a smack of his paws.  'I knew it!' 'Yes, very good.  Well done, you.  Etc, etc,' the Enchanted Forest said in ...

A feeling was lost long ago—one of rhythm, of moving changes, of subtle swift vibrations that tell of changing seasons, of coming ages—where the future sang on breezes.             It slipped away when a blink lost it —the eye that beat too fast. It roved elsewhere, and in such roving, went away from patterns and gentleness and truth.   But it was not a feeling that could slip between thoughts—it was felt in the pulse that lies beneath skin, in the warmth of light on bare faces, in a gentle breath that lingers after the wind has gone.   And it could have lasted forever.             But for the blink.             For the blink changed direction, let go, reassessed —and found itself wanting.             As it wanted, the world changed, fell into lo...

Once upon a time there was a princess who bathed in glistening moonlit pools, drank the light of the stars like nectar, and danced through orchard groves in twilight as though there were no tomorrows.             But she was second in line to a royal throne.   Dressed in the finest swaths of shimmering fabric, eating of the most delicious and sumptuous foods, and issuing decrees at the bequest of a sovereign, the princess knew there were tomorrows.   Such tomorrows that she had once held prominent in her desires.   Such tomorrows in which she had begun to take little interest.   For she had come to despise fine linens, choice foods, and blunt power.   At night she would escape and bath and dance and drink—letting life flow in and around her as it never could within the walls of the palace.   And then she would return, weighted by the sorrow of what her tomorrow held.    ...