Faerie Dreams (a short story)

Faerie Dreams

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.

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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.