Fairy Dust

Did you feel your heart begin to rise?
            Or that sudden urge to fly upon the wind?
            To twist yourself about so fast, that you could see the whole world spinning?
            And did you see a darting something out of the corner of your eye just a moment ago?  A fairy, or perhaps a sprite, flinging dust about her or around him, by the glittery, sparkling handful?
            That is the mark, the sign, the fate of fairy dust.
            But fear not!
            Oh no, this is nothing dreadful.
            You have only been sprinkled with hope and lightness and possibility.
            If you feel the urge to do anything fanciful, be it dance around a field, or the moon, best give in; there is no turning back anyway.
            For you have been kissed.

The Ornery Wizard

At the top of a great tree lies a nest.Nestled within it is a city.Within that city is a wizard.
And he is to be much feared. Why is that, you ask? The story goes like this: Once upon a time, the wizard was an old man.For he was born old, and when the time comes for him to leave his mortal coil, he will be so young he will look all but newly birthed.But to be born old before all others is to carry a mighty weight—and that is the feeling of orneriness. To put it another way, the wizard became annoyed quite easily. But because he had yet to gain his reputation, no one knew. Along came an unsuspecting boy, who discovered that the wizard had magical powers.Eager to learn from one so ancient, the boy asked all his questions, one tumbling after the other all at once. Needless to say, the wizard turned the boy into a newt. Not many days followed before a young man passed his way, seeking a love charm in which to woo his beloved.The man spent a great deal of time waxing about his fair one’s beauty. And…

The Night the Girl Howled

The night revealed no moon.The rustle of the wind blew through the tall boughs of trees that hid the stars.And down on the ground a girl sat waiting for the world to right itself.
For that was what she did every night, since the day she had been chained to the thickest trunk of the tallest tree in the forest.She was in tune to the earth’s turning, and it was what kept the monotony of her imprisonment at bay.By keeping tap to the rotating rhythm, she could wait for day, when her chains would melt, and she was free to do as she wished, until once again, night would fall, and she would come, bidden by some unknown spell, and let the chains wrap around her wrists. How came she to be chained, she knew not, but concocted a story of some loving parents who, for want of a fire in their hearth, had felled a young tree to the great forest’s displeasure.She repeated this story to herself night after night, until she almost believed that it was true. The truth, however, was quite different, for she …

A Night's Dream

There came a dream one night.
Great bursts of gleaming light shot from every direction like a thousand rays of sun. A moment more, and it was gone. Then came the dark—where I stayed. It took me time to get used to the dim.An eon.By then, I had no memory of light. And so, when I came upon it, I could not make heads or tales of the ball of gold that hid in the corner of the dream.I had to reach for it, take it in my hands.Yet as I did so, it slipped and dripped through my fingers. On and on it went—this trying to hold it fast.But it would only move gently between the cracks and out the sides until all that was left was the dark, unsubtle as between twilight and the dawn. And I was cold. Not knowing how else to hold the light, I dripped it into my mouth.It tasted of honey.Warmth flooded me. I doubled over, clutching at my belly in horror. The ache would be the end of me. All at once I cascaded to the ground, held my body curled tight, as the pain sawed within like a thousand tiny knives all despe…

Of Immortality

In the high country of forest-hidden land—the one that passes as a portal between the realms of mortal and immortal—a royal faerie sat upon a throne of Fae glass, and through a tiny lens that spoke of stayed destiny and inflicted grief, she surveyed the worlds.
Cold she had been in demeanor and in body for time beyond memory, but that was mere water to the ice that pierced her when through her lens memory broke and she saw a man she had known of old. Surprise came as it should, for the Fae queen was used to permanence when death was rendered by her hand. Cold fingers tightened around the arms of her glass throne, then pushed off, only to have her body caught by wings.She would meet him and find out his aims. ‘Tell me, Laodius,’ the queen began when she stood before him, ‘how came you back to the realm of the living?’ At the question the man looked up, and a small smile played upon his lips. ‘My queen,’ he said, and inclined his head, ‘Though, perhaps the bond between crown and subject break…