Fairy Stories & Other Tales

(Part IV of Mrs. Pimms Finds a Fairy)        In the space of a moment, Mr. Pimms saw an old wood with a strange light.  This vision, however, was rather brief, for in another instant he found himself barreling head long into Mrs. Pimms, who caught him in her arms and proceeded to drag him, and a small child who looked vaguely familiar, out of a ring of mushrooms that looked more than vaguely familiar.             ‘ Mary! ’ Mr. Pimms exclaimed.         ‘ Not yet, ’ hissed Mrs. Pimms, moving swiftly, holding tightly to her precious cargo with each arm.  They went at great speed until they were out of the woods and could make out the twinkling lights of the village beyond.  Suddenly she stopped, dropping Mr. Pimms ’ and young Mary ’ s arms, turning a radiant face up to greet Mr. Pimms.             ‘ Gr...

(Part III of Mrs. Pimms Finds a Fairy)       In affable credit to Mr. Pimms, the true nature of Mrs. Pimms' room did not phase him.  Rather, he decided to take it as a helpful hint that all was not right for Mrs. Pimms.         The question was: how was it not right?         Bracing himself ever so slightly, Mr. Pimms began to go over Mrs. Pimms' room, looking for clues.   Several volumes with titles referencing immortals, fairies, and the Fae were stacked neatly on her tidy worktable.   As there were no other books off the shelf, they seemed a good place to start, and when he picked up the first, he saw that there were pages marked.   This did not surprise Mr. Pimms; in fact he found it re-assuring that his tidy, orderly wife was much the same in her capacity as a—he couldn’t bring himself to say ‘witch’—as she was as his wife.        ...

( Part II of Mrs. Pimms Finds a Fairy )      There was more to finding a fairy than Mrs. Pimms had anticipated.  That said, there was plenty involved that was expected.  Mushroom rings, position of the moon, warmth of the day, and a field or meadow hidden from most eyes by thick forests; but the problem lay in finding a place that met all these conditions at once.  Then, of course, there would be the excuses made to Mr. Pimms and Mary's mother.  And, naturally, the extremely likely scenario that the fairies, when found, would know nothing of a recipe concerning lemon cakes... But all this was rather beside the point, which was: Mrs. Pimms herself very much wanted to find a fairy. And even if no cake recipe presented itself, so did little Mary. Thus, united in purpose, it was on a day which had held just the right temperature, on a night which had just the right moonlight, in a meadow surrounded by a forest on the outskirts beyond their...

     Mr. and Mrs. Pimms were very normal, no-nonsense kinds of people.  Well, Mr. Pimms was, anyway.  Mrs. Pimms looked like she was a very normal, no-nonsense kind of person, but the truth was, Mrs. Pimms had a secret life.  One complete with all kinds of nonsense that contained no normality whatsoever — at least as far as Mr. Pimms would have been concerned.             Mrs. Pimms, you see, was a witch.             Her days were filled with potions and magic, scrying and hexing until five-thirty in the evening on the dot when Mr. Pimms, without fail, Monday to Friday, walked in the door of their suburban cottage.   The weekends were tricky.   But Mrs. Pimms always managed to get a spell of work done—work of the un-normal kind—in between Mr. Pimms’ Saturday round of golf and Sunday’s afternoon nap.   Indeed, Mrs. Pimms fou...

      The wind swirled around and made the whole world look like a freshly shaken snow globe.  Joe thought he had never seen anything so wonderful.  The people passed beyond the front lawn, heavily bundled; the cold made everyone look like colorful, plump grubs.  Joe liked grubs, and he usually felt indifferent to people; but their rosy faces and their colorful garb endeared him to them.             He took a slow sip of hot chocolate and wiped the whipped cream that had settled itself on his upper lip with the back of his hand.   Joe had spent enough time inside.   The snow was falling steadily, and he had work to do.   Snowmen didn’t build themselves.             He dropped his mug in the sink, yelled a quick, ‘Thanks Mum!’ out into the void, buttoned up his coat, hastily wrapped his dad’s old scarf around his neck, put...