Down in the Fairy Glen – A Children’s Fairy Tale.

I wrote this story last year, but it fits today’s Word of the Day prompt so I thought I would share it again with you. 

person jumping photo
Photo by Fru00f6ken Fokus on Pexels.com

 

 

Down at the bottom of the garden, where the Ivy and brambles are all overgrown and the little patch of nettles is getting a bit out of hand, there lived a fairy called Aera. A pretty little thing she was, no bigger than a monarch butterfly, with tiny hands and delicate feet, encased in little boots made from bluebell flowers. Her dress is made from two daffodil flowers sewn together with thread. She has transparent wings that glimmer with a silvery blue gleam when the sun shines on them just so.

She was friends with most things in the garden. She would fly with the bees and have a little chat to them. They didn’t stop for long though. Bees are very hard-working and don’t stop work for idle chatter, at least not for long. They did stop to give Aera the time of day because she was so lovely and often told them where the best flowers were. They, in turn, would give her a cup of their honey to say thank you. Aera also flitted with the butterflies. She’d known them since they were little caterpillars and she loved to see them grow into beautiful butterflies.

Aera chatted to the small birds, the Robin and the Wren. Mrs Wren was a particularly close friend. Mrs Wren has so many little babies to feed that sometimes Aera would help her find little seeds and worms.

There was a Magpie that came into the garden and Aera was not so fond of him. He was noisy and mischievous and often played too rough.

“Come out to play Aera. Let’s play who can shout the loudest? I bet I Can? CAW CAW CAW.” The Magpie would say.

“No thank you, Mr Magpie, I would rather just listen to the wind in the trees rather than your noise. Please go away.” Aera was always as polite as she could be but Mr Magpie made her cross.

If he wouldn’t go away, Aera would use some of her Magic and then the Magpie would fly far away and leave her alone.

The people who owned the house didn’t go into their garden very much and so she knew she could fly around and not be seen.

One day the family moved out and sold the house to a young couple. Aera heard them talking.

“Oh Darling, look at that mess the garden is in, all the weeds and the overgrown Ivy and nettles. You must do something about it.”

“OK Love. I will chop down the shrubs, pull up the weeds and concrete over the lawn. We can have a barbecue and invite our friends around.”

Aera was very upset. If they chopped down the shrubs and pulled up the weeds it would destroy her house. She wouldn’t be able to fly around, they would see her.

“Aera, what are we going to do?” Said Mrs Wren. “I have my nest in the shrub they are going to chop down, and I am just about to raise another family too.”

“Aera, if they pull up all the flowers, we won’t be able to make our honey.” Said the bees.
“What are we going to do?”

Aera decided that she was going to see the great Owl who lived in the Oak tree in the park.

He was so wise, he will know what to do.

“Mr Owl, Mr Owl, can I speak with you?”

It was still daylight and Owls sleep during the day and catch their food at night.

“Yes, Yes, Who is it? I’m awake now. I hope it’s important, I need my beauty sleep don’t you know?” Said the Wise Owl, rather grumpily.

“Oh it’s you Aera; I haven’t seen you in the longest time. How are you, my dear?”

“Oh Mr Owl, I need your help. New owners have bought the house and are going to chop down the shrubs and pull up the weeds and concrete over the lawn. The bees will not have enough flowers to make their honey and Mrs Wren and I with both lose our homes. What can we do?”

“I hear this sort of thing is happening more and more. Don’t they know the damage they are doing to nature? Hmmm, let me think.”

After a short time, Mr Owl spoke again.

“I think you should find out more about the new people who have moved in. They might not know much about nature and how important a garden is for the wildlife. Find out if they are the type of people who recycle their rubbish. If they are then they might change their minds if you can convince them how important it is to have a garden, for the bees and birds and the environment.”

Aera flew back to her garden and decided to listen at the window of the house. Normally it wasn’t polite to listen at doors and windows, Aera’s Mother had taught her very good manners. This time though, there was too much at stake.
Aera heard the lady speaking to the man.

“Have you finished with the newspaper; I want to stick it in the recycling. We’ve got to do our bit for the environment”

“OK Dear. I was thinking, I read the other day that people use too much water, watering their gardens in the hot weather. Maybe we should get a water-butt. That way we can store the rainwater and that would be better for the environment too.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t bother with that dear. When you concrete it over, we won’t need to water it anymore.”

Aera had heard enough. They obviously cared a bit about the environment because they were recycling their newspaper but they still didn’t have a clue about how important gardens were for wildlife.

Then she had a good idea. She had a little magic she’d stored away for a rainy day. She decided she would use her magic to help everyone.

When she got back to her little home, hidden away amongst the Ivy and the brambles, behind the nettle patch, she took out her magic pouch.

It was full of magic fairy dust that she had been saving for something special.
That night, when most people were asleep in their warm beds, Aera flew out of her house and started sprinkling her magic dust over the garden. She sprinkled some over the house too. As it was a warm night, the bedroom window was open, so she flew in and sprinkled her sparkly dust all over the two people sleeping and snoring in their bed.
Aera said her magic words; they are in fairy language so you wouldn’t understand them. Then she went to her bed, knowing she had done all she could.

The next day the postman was delivering the letters on his round, just like he normally did. He was surprised to see a large golden envelope addressed to the house at the end of the street. The one with the overgrown garden. He posted it through the letterbox and continued on his way.

“Dear, look at this letter we have received. It’s from the Natural Garden Club; we’ve apparently won a garden makeover in their competition. Did you enter us for this competition?”

“No, I don’t remember. Maybe it was your Mother, you know she enters lots of competitions now she’s retired.”

“Well someone is going to come round next week and talk to us about it.”

“That’s nice dear.”

The following week, a garden designer in a purple suit came round to talk to them about their garden.

“Well we had plans to chop down the shrubs and pull up all the weeds and concrete over the lawn and turn it into an entertainment area,” Said the lady.

“Goodness Me!” Exclaimed the garden designer. “Don’t you realise how important these little gardens are to our wildlife?” He said.
“We need to do all we can for the environment. When people concrete over their gardens, it makes flooding much more likely. The bees need all the flowers they can get to make their honey. If the bees die then our crops will fail. The wildlife really needs a small patch of weeds at the bottom of the garden so it can thrive. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I will tidy up the garden and trim back the shrubs. I will reduce the weed patch, so it’s just a small bit at the very bottom and I’ll build a patio by the house so you can have your barbecue. How does that sound?”

“OK, we didn’t realise how important having a garden and a weed patch was for the environment we are happy to do our bit, aren’t we dear?” Said the owner to his wife.

Now the garden is neat and tidy but it still has the flowers, the lawn and the shrubs. At the very bottom of the garden is a very small patch of nettles and some Ivy and brambles, and just inside, just out of sight, you can still catch a glimmer of a very tiny house. A small fairy called Aera lives there and she’s very happy.

The End.

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 13/April/2018

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/glimmer/

 

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2019/06/10/fairy/

 

The Treasure Map – A short tale.

It was left to her in her Grandfathers will. 

Just a small scrap of parchment. So darkened with age that the ink marks were only barely visible. She could only just see the marks. Just enough to show that it was a map. The writing was complete gobbledygook and written in such a small italic script that would make deciphering it quite a challenge. Her Grandfather had told her the secret of reading it on her last visit to see him in hospital. 

They had always been close. He’d cared for her far more than her Mother ever did. She was going to give her up for adoption but her Grandfather took her in instead. Her Mother then ran off with a travelling gang and they’d never heard from her again. Her Grandfather had tried to find her, but without success. He had never given up hope that she would one day turn up again at his door. 

Her father had never been in the picture. He was just a lad that her Mother had slept with. She never found out who. That had always rather haunted her, thinking that any man in town she bumped into, in the supermarket or at the burger bar, could have been her dad. 

No, for as long as she remembered it was just Grandfather and her. 

He had always prepared her for his death, knowing that it could occur at any time. They discussed it openly so that it would be easier to deal with when it happened. It did in a way. She was still very sad to lose him, but he’d had a good life and was in a lot of pain towards the end. He’d told her that it would be a release when it happened. 

Not long after his 92nd birthday he’d been diagnosed with a degenerative disease. The doctors had given him 6 months but he’d held on nearly a full year. She would sit with him for hours and they would talk about his younger days in the Navy. He had been a bit of a rogue, but never cruel or unkind, just a lovely rascal. On the last day he was drifting in and out of consciousness but always held her hand tight. Then he’d roused and looked her in the eyes.

“Remember, no tears, only joy for a life well lived. Remember this. Sometimes things look clearer in the Mirror.”

The last bit had come out as a whisper, barely audible, as his eyes closed and he drifted off again. He didn’t regain consciousness after that. 

The Mirror. That was the secret of this map. When you held it up to the mirror, the tightly scrawled ink became clearer. A lot of hard research later and she now knew it was a map of an island in the Mediterranean sea, not far west of Malta. An X marked the spot, the middle of a lake, on this island thousands of miles away from where she lived. 

Now, here she was with a team of her friends on a boat wearing diving gear. It had taken months of planning, but here she was, Dr Angela Monroe, Historian and Archaeologist and granddaughter of an old Navy Seal and lovely rogue, about to make the discovery of a lifetime.

With the help of her mates they had managed to retrieve the old sea chest that had been buried at the bottom of the lake and it was now on the boat waiting to be cracked open like a particularly mouth-watering nut. 

As she used a crow bar to break open the chest the lid opened and she saw in the glorious sunshine, the glimmer of gold.

More than just that, this was evidence of an ancient lost civilisation, found long ago and then reburied. 

This treasure was from Atlantis. 

The End

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 13/April/2018

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/glimmer/

 

via Daily Prompt: Glimmer