Fairy Stories & Other Tales

 Once upon a time there was a crow who knelt down in the middle of the road attempting to salvage the final bits of final remains. She was hungry, thirsty, weary. Perpetually, she would arrive at the end of a feast, with little to offer her craving belly.      It was a struggle, she would admit, to keep up with the roost. She was last to arrive in the evening, but also first to try and leave in the morning. Her wings, however, had a tendency to seize; instead of battling to reach carrion, she battled her stiff wings. And so the day continued, the same form as all the other days.      Until the day when she saw a small crow.      The little crow must have been the smallest in all the nests that season. Her wings were no more than fluff, yet she had been pushed from her nest already. She had nothing to eat, and would, of course, die soon. Or worse, spend her whole life flying last.      The old crow laid down. She felt the h...

 Once upon a time a man, flooded with power, did everything he could to keep it.      And so the world exploded. Once upon a time a woman, flooded with power, changed her mind and tossed it aside.      And so the world burned. Once upon a time a girl, flooded with power, let it fall slowly through her hands, like water over delicate seeds.      And so the world remained.

 Once upon a time there were two young women who entered into an enchanted wood.     Upon their arrival, a fairy approached. She offered them all that their hearts could ever desire in exchange for a mere moment - it would feel like a moment - of their time.      'No thanks,' they said, and walked on.     Then  they came to a cave, in which a dragon lay sleeping deeply atop a hoard of gold. It slept on all kinds of objects, from the smallest golden tea cup to the largest necklace, much of it encrusted with the finest gemstones. The women continued on their way, and let the dragon sleep.      Lastly, they came to a witch's cottage. They knocked on the door and offered the witch their help in harvesting her ready supply of herbs. In exchange, she gave them a cup of very fine tea.      Is it needless to say that their mother slept well that night when the young women returned and told her their story? Possibly. But ...

 There was once a witch whose magic took the shape of power.       It could make queens and kings, form tempests, level mountains.      And so, the witch put it away.      Who knows if the world was better for it or not.      But when she died, she did not regret having done it.