Fairy Stories & Other Tales

 The girl was out of luck with life. Her world was too small by half, her routine an endlessness that was not so much quotidian as pain. And with that, her mind grew quiet, tired. The kind of numb that came with the pointlessness of trying to make too much of nothing very important.      What did one need to get the luck back?      What did one need?       A few things. Two dresses, two shifts. Stockings - the kind that don't scratch. Boots for Winter. Soled slippers for Summer.      Books.      Food.      She packed two small books, the other dress, the other shift, stockings, slippers.      A loaf of bread, a cheese. Two withered apples.       Her whole world on her back.      She took a step.      The numbness faded.     She could feel the luck.      She said yes to the old woman who needed the he...

 Once, a woman wanted the whole of everything.       Then she ate an apple and a piece of cheese.      The apple was freshly picked, the cheese nicely aged, and the water that accompanied the meal was fresh from a mountain stream; to wit: deliciously cool.     For a moment, the woman thought that the whole of everything was a bit much. In the next, she thought that it was, perhaps, unnecessary. And in the next, she ate a piece of chocolate and went about her business of small things.      Which was, for the rest of the day, just the right amount of business.

 Once a woman created a power that changed the very core of time. All stared at her work in amazement, and wondered how the world could ever have turned without her value. But the power she created did not come without a toll; as much as it was power itself, it took from its creator.      The woman was satisfied with this arrangement for a time. After all, all power comes with a price — especially fame and glory; to both of which, as was their way, she had become particularly accustomed.        Until a day arrived where she found she did not care to be sucked dry.      But, what to do?       She moved to a village and became their witch.      There were potions to make, and poultices. Counsels to give. Time to be spent, and little power. What power was taken was replaced. For it wasn't the kind of power needed to change the world; it was the kind that made it heal. 

Once, a tree in an enchanted forest decided to die. The wise old witch who tended the forest did not think it wise for the tree to die, but she recognized it's pain. And so, she fed the tree a mixture of light and wonder, as a kindness. A steady diet for anyone, but the tree was far along its path and there was no course to change. On that, the tree would fade gently, fade away until it was nothing more than everything else around it.      But. Instead, the tree began to grow.      Up, up, up toward the light. And out as far as it could spread it's leaves. It wanted more light, more wonder, more kindness.      And to be kind. To offer it's branches as shelter, allow burrowers into its trunk, dig deep and wide to feed the forest itself.      The witch was not surprised. She had seen too many miracles to marvel. But she smiled often.      And so, the tree grew and grew until it was nothing more than everything else...

 When the universe decided that light would be its medium, it forgot about the darkness.       So the darkness began to tell itself stories. To keep itself company.       The stories wove patterns, varying the darkness.       The universe sat up and took notice, then did what it was inclined to do. It changed.      And wrapped the varied darkness into itself.      So that it wouldn't be alone.