Fairy Stories & Other Tales

 There was once a quill that weighed more than the writer who wielded it could bear. The weight was not in pounds or grams, nor was it felt in the hand at any moment save for when it was put to paper.      At every moment that the quill, dripping with ink, set itself to the parchment that lay before the writer, suddenly the weight of it would grow so heavy that the burden felt as though the writer was wrung through with lifting the heavy thing. Curious as to the strange nature of the shifting weight of the quill, the writer tried to measure it by different means― but nothing came up a consistent weight. Still, the writer tried another tactic, pressing it's dry point to the paper where it would not be possible for words to emerge― but then it was as light as it was to pick up as one might imagine a quill. It was only when it was filled with ink that it bore the unbearable weight.     The writer sought to find a different quill, one that would allow for an easier form of writing, som

 There was once a dove who stole a sliver of the moon. It was the tiniest of slivers, no bigger than a fingernail. And yet the moon noticed. 'Why did you take a piece of me?' the moon asked the dove. 'I thought you might be able to spare it,' answered the dove, in a manner much entitled. 'For the night is long, and your time in the night is short, thus I did hope for something greater to see by.' 'A ready answer, but shorter thoughts,' said the Moon. 'For none of me will shine unless it is the time of night when I send forth my beams.' The dove hung her head, chagrined. 'I did not know this.'   The moon smiled gently, and let her beams rest upon the dove's back. 'Ah,' she said, 'that is why it is so much better to ask.'

Have you heard the tale of the Wolf and the Fawn? The one where the little animal child was left in the woods all alone when the wolf came upon it? The story of the wolf thinking how nice the fawn would feel cuddled up against his side, instead of between his jaws? The empathy that made the wolf think what it would be like if this was one of his cubs? And if the world stopped tomorrow would he rather eat his fill or have a small comfort? The one where the fawn nudged her little nose against the big wolf's great one? And where the fawn was always safe near the paws of the monster? If you haven't, best to listen for it, for I can only hope that it would touch your heart.

The night had in it a curious wonder and a strange beauty.             It was born of the world having flipped over onto its underside, its very back, and forced all the people on that side of it to look at the whole of everything quite differently.             The moon rose, and acted the guide for the new insights and thoughts and keen plans that made their way into minds and hopes and dreams.             And offered a note of pity for all who had gone to bed too early.