TigerLily
The Fae
TigerLily
~ Prelude ~
I sat down in the huge lumpy chair which sat closest to the bay window and curled my feet under me. The night was cool, and dark, and one of those where I just couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was the night owl in me, maybe just my excuse to stare out of the window and then complain the next morning that I had had no sleep the night before. Either way, I was fine with it all and did nothing to try and get to sleep. Instead, I sat in my comfortable chair and stared out the window.
The stars hung low in the sky, and I knew, I just knew, that if I were just a wee bit taller, I could grab the moon from it’s resting place high up in the sky and pull it down to plaster it all over the walls of the master bedroom in my small rambler home.
But, I was never tall enough, nor ever strong enough, to pull the moon from her rightful spot in the sky, which was on the velvety cloth of the midnight hour. So, instead, I sat and stared all night long, wishing to always have what I did not. And yet, I was not unhappy. At least, not in the sense that I could really help.
I was lonely. Every night, I sat in my chair and, though it may seem a bit childish to you, I would wish upon the first star I sighted. Each night, I wished the same wish -- for someone to share this beautiful picture with. Or even the talent to paint the picture, so that I could revel in it in the sane hours of the day.
But, I had never known sanity, and that was partially one reason I sat in my chair night after night, staring at the same changing moon, every single night of my ever single life.
It wasn’t that I felt sorry for myself, really. Great job, great friends, but those friends couldn’t really fill the emptiness of my queen sized bed in the small rambler. They couldn’t be there in the middle of the night to hold me, and even if they were, that would seem really weird, somehow. So, instead, I sat, and sat, and sat.
It was only recently that I began writing. I’m not even sure what I want to write about, but I know I’m going to write until I just can’t anymore. At least, that’s the idea. It’s something to do to fill the hours between sunset and sunrise.
Maybe I do have a story I want to tell. The reason I sit in this chair, wish on stars, and keep myself as solitary as I do, night after night. I have to story of the wish I whisper to the stars every night. The story of why I wish that, and most of all, the tie that binds it all together -- why I believe in faeries.
I know, that seems really random, doesn’t it? Well, it’s one of the few things that sets me apart from my friends. The fact that I am always on the lookout for the fae.
I don’t know. Maybe you will understand my story, my reasons for writing this all down. I’m a lot older than I was when I first saw the fae in my dreams, when I was but a mere sixteen. It was only two turns of the wheel of time that I saw the fae…or more specifically, a fairy, in the daylight.
Truly, it’s not just something out of the tales of your childhood, nor just for the Cornish in merry old England. There is a magic all around us, if I may briefly quote Stevie Nicks. Smart individual.
Anyway, I’m mainly writing this for myself, as I said before, if only a way to fill the time between dusk and daylight. It’s then that I remember the most, and that the memories are the most vivid. I figure I could write them down as I remember them.
I’m not saying you have to believe. Sometimes, I have trouble believing the these memories are just that -- memories, true and real. All I’m asking is for a bit of your time, a listening ear. If you choose not to believe, then you’ve gotten a great story to recount. But, if you choose to believe, well then, belief is the first step in actual awareness of the fae.
It took me a while to realize the truth in that. But, I did realize it.
It was then, and only then, I was able to fully embrace the fae.
* the first line *