Fairy Stories & Other Tales

The light shown on Anya’s fingers. It curled around her palm and danced. This, she thought, was the sheer pleasure of having magic.       But in the midst of her play, a shadow grew.   It was not unexpected; it was the cost of doing magic, for it always begot shadows.   But it never ceased to offer discomfort.   If she could find a way to practice her craft and leave behind the adjacent darkness, she would.          Anya was not fond of the dark, or shadows, or of the sense of unease that grew whenever she let the flickering brightness dance.   But, too, there was a feeling of wholeness in her work.   How could that be, such fulfillment when darkness lay about her?   A constant wonder—the weight of it only born by extinguishing the light for a time until she could bear it again.       Today was such a time.          Anya took the light, and threw it at the darkness.   The next breath, and it was gone.   Elimination brought palpable relief, while at the same time she felt the loss of

There was once a young woman who was very rich and, as she lived in a castle and had lots of servants, seemed very important. People made curtsy to her and deferred their opinions until she had spoken. They laughed at her little jokes and complimented her silk dresses. And yet, though her life was paved with ease and grandeur, she had never found herself precisely happy.     Yet when the day came that she lost her castle and all her wealth, the loss was such that surely what she was before must have been called happiness. For now she was degraded and scoffed on, ridiculed and slandered and chased away until her silks turned to rags and all was misery.     She fled to the woods where she found an abandoned cottage. Now, there are some to whom this is the beginning of a perfect life, with freedom and independence and the opportunity to make something of yourself. But that is what those who have only read or dreamed fairy tales might think. They cannot feel the whole story. For those who

 Once there was a woman who had a jeweled necklace stolen from her. It had been a gift from her father, and it's loss caused her grief for missing the beauty of his gift.     Yet there were other things to worry about.     Children to feed, and demands of a household; work to be fostered, and art to pursue; people to learn from, and others to care for. So life went on.     By the time she lived her whole life, she had forgotten she had ever had a necklace. But this didn't matter, for she had never once forgotten that she had a father.

 Once upon a time there was a sweet sound. It whispered through the trees. It called about the air. It wove its song through the world, a note on time.     As suddenly as it sounded, it stopped.     Time stopped, too. Just for a moment.       Then sighed contentedly for the memory, and pressed on.