Fairy Stories & Other Tales

 There is a certain kind of wonder that comes from silence.     For silence is often expected, a right of passage, a necessity of living. And yet, for all that expectation, it is not something that comes about without cultivation, nor without searching.      And so, when the young girl traveled into the woods in search of the stillness that begat silence, she found herself walking the path that led to that for which she hoped.     For expectation will crush, while seeking will find. 

Take me to the ticking place,  that path that leads beyond the pale,  the one where all the world slows down,  the part where all the peace is laid And I can find, beyond the pain of constants and of goes that kind of rest for weary souls that keeps those from sinking down and only offers solace. 

When you went into the enchanted wood, you hoped you might happen upon a wild revelry. And indeed you did, for you had planned well —to set your foot upon the wood at the stroke of midnight on the night of a new moon. It was when the trees glowed with an enchanted light, that you knew you would succeed.     But you did not factor in the sacrifice.     That to see the revels was to live a thousand years, and to live beyond that if your captors wished it.     You did not think that you would need to dance every night of those a thousand years, trapped in the everlasting dance that makes a forest so enchanted.     Thus, you broke the spell, with a heave and a wish and the Fae you convinced to lead an epic battle against convention.     You changed the world of fairy lore, and the path between worlds.     And now, the rest of us can only dream, for that is the only path you left. Which is probably for the better.

There was once a house with a glorious tree outside the front of it. The tree was large, and growing ever larger, so the owners of the house considered cutting down the tree, just to make everything a little bit neater.     On an evening when the moon rose, languid and full, it shone majestically down on the ever growing tree. The wife of the house took a look at the moon that night , and then at the tree. So perfectly did they look together, that the tree was kept in all its glory standing before the little house.     One day, a rain storm swept about the little house and the tree. The next day huge gales came, and in a moment of sadness, the tree was struck from its roots and toppled over onto the little house.     The wife and husband of the house came out to look at the demise of their no longer growing tree, and as the neighbours poured out and asked them if they wished that had cut it down before it could destroy their home, the couple looked at one another with small sad smiles