It was a bitterly cold night and the wind blew hard against the hillside, which was covered in a thick blanket of snow. Inside,flames danced in the fireplace, casting magical reflections in the frosted glass windows.Everything was magnified in an eight year old boy`s fantasy. My fantasy.Beside me,clothed in black, sat my grandmother telling fairytales.As a child, I believed that these tales were descriptions of her own life; that she herself was a fairy. I would wait in quiet anticipation to here those first words...."Once upon a time there was a prairie with only one tree growing on it;an apple tree. I used to sleep in its shade while my animals grazed.One afternoon i awoke to find one of the goats, a snow white one,missing.I searched desperately until sundown, but my efforts were in vain and I knew that I would be in big trouble back at the village.Suddenly i heard strange sound coming from some way off. I followed the sound and soon I was overcome by the most amazing sight. Through a dazzling haze of white light I could see a group of blonde haired women dancing a strange dance of opposites and singing in high pitched voices. Every move they made left a trail of fine silvery white powder,which shimmered and sparkled in the light. I realised that I was rooted to the spot, and could not speak.One of the women shot me a glance and screamed at me. The sound was like that of a goat being slaughtered. I collapsed unconscious. To my amazement, I woke at first light to find the missing goat curled up in my arms. I don`t know if I`ve ever heard the real end of this story and the memories of what happened that night are fading.But one thing I am sure of is that the fairies still dance around that old apple tree every night. And if someone ever tells you that fairies don`t exist, tell them that something will only cease to exist if they cease to believe...
[many thanx to our lovely friends from Birmingham ANN & DAZ members of the great MAMAMATRIX]
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