"In the end, it's not going to matter how many breaths you took, but how many moments took your breath away." -Shing Xiong *** "Do not go where the path may lead; instead where there is no path and leave a trail." -Ralph Waldo Emerson *** "Truly great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave, and impossible to forget." -G. Randolf *** "We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us." -E.M. Forster *** "Imagnination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited, imagination encircles the world." -Albert Einstein *** Defintion of Suburbia: A place where they cut down trees and name streets after them. -(Unknown, found on sticker) :p *** "A lie goes halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to get its pants on." -Winston Churchill***"Love is the irresistible desire to be desired irresistibly." -Louis Ginsberg ***"All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware." -Martin Buber
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Faerie Dreams (a short story)
Written in Winter of 2011
A small boy, no older than the age of five, came to find himself in a large, fantastic house of stunning, brilliant colors. It was as though the house had been specifically designed for Easter celebrations. The walls were adorned with luscious pastel shades and intricate winding patterns, delightfully filling his senses. There were wonderful smells of fresh baked cookies and pies, and the taste of sugary, candied things was in the air.
Faeries danced and flew about the room, singing and laughing and playing, their voices like summer birds and sweet Sunday bells. They welcomed him with smiles and pinched his round boyish cheeks. One faerie in particular, an impish, mischievous girl with bright orange hair, took his hand and twirled him around. The air shimmered around them as they spun, as though they were a sparkling mirage. With a cry of delight, the boy found he could fly.
For hours it seemed, the two frolicked, dashing about the house, through the halls and up and the down the stairs, laughing and singing. She was constantly offering him bowls of candy and great golden goblets of fizzy soda, and he drank and ate until his teeth were coated with sugar and he couldn’t fit another bite. She took him into a room that was entirely empty, save for a tall, decorated mirror in the middle of it. With an ecstatic squeal, the boy raced to the mirror, thrilled to see he had become a faerie. His hair was a brilliant electric blue, his skin a shade of bright green, and long dragonfly wings burst from his shoulder blades. In the mirror, he could see her standing behind him, smiling with delight at his reaction. In disbelief, he reached out to touch his reflection, but his hand passed through the glass, and he fell into the mirror, his lips forming into a rounded, horrified ‘O’.
The boy woke in his bed with a start, and saw his skin was back to normal. He raced to his bathroom, reaching for the mirror, but his fingers touched only solid glass. He cried as he realized it had all been a dream, his face no longer the green of a carefree faerie, but the agitated red of a heartbroken child.
This short story was born of a Creative Writing Club assignment, where I was asked to write a story that matched a picture I chose at random. The picture I selected was of a boy sitting by a mirror, touching it with one hand. He appeared sad to me. This is what became of it.