Learn

magic and kindness 

learn from the firefly's way

and do as they do

a.r.w.

Fireflies

It was a long time ago. I don't remember exactly how old we were. I was maybe ten or eleven? My brother was still alive... he was probably five or six.

Back then, summers didn't last too long--those hot, humid nights were a rarity; the sun still kissing the horizon at ten o'clock at night. "Be back before it's dark," that was our dad's only rule in the summer and we always followed that rule... well, almost always.

It was one of those magically long days--as if the world was holding its breath, frozen, holding off the night as long as possible.

As we began to slowly make our way back home, little specks of light began to wink at us.

"Lightning bugs!" my brother shouted in excitement, jumping up and down as he broke away from me and ran after them.

I knew I should have shouted after him, called him back so we would make it back home before the sun set. I should have. But I didn't. And I am so thankful for that.

"Wait for me!" I called out instead as I leapt into the field and ran after him.

We leapt through the air, gently cupping our hands together as we tried to catch the fireflies. We made a game out of it.

"I got one!"

"That's six for me!"

"Ha! Eight! I'm winning again!"

We let the little bugs crawl along our arms and fingers, their green light illuminating our faces and smiles.

A whistle cut through the silence of the night--our dad was standing on the porch, calling out to us.

"We should go," I sighed begrudgingly. "Dad's going to be pretty mad."

"Wait, sisso!" He grabbed my arm and pulled me down. I watched him as he picked something out of my hair. "He was stuck," he said softly as his hands gently cupped the blue glow of the firefly.

"Blue?" I was just as confused as he was as our eyes locked on the strange glow coming from between his fingers.

Slowly, he opened his hands and we stood in awe of what he held.

It was no firefly, I can tell you that. I don't know what you would call it... but it was no bug. It was far too extraordinary to be just a bug. I couldn't see past the blinding blue glow... all I could make out was a pair of wings like a dragonfly's and a pair of eyes that locked with mine for just a moment before it leapt from my brother's palm and disappeared into the darkness of the night.

"A faerie!" my brother gasped, his eyes searching the sky.

The very idea made me smile.

We never told our parents why we were late--what we were doing and what we had seen. And I'll never know if my brother truly believed that he held a faerie in his hands. But I can never shake the feeling of magic at that one moment in my life.

The few people I've told have laughed at me and either called me crazy or imaginative. But their laughter means nothing to me--it can't even compare to the vision in my mind of my brother's face illuminated by a blue glow, wonderment shining in his eyes.

Whether what we saw that night was a faerie, I may never know for sure. But a night of chasing fireflies with your little brother is just as real and just as magical... and just as precious to me.

http://quit007.deviantart.com/art/The-Fast-And-Furious-Fairy-109395698

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

It's been a while since I've written anything (and NaNoWriMo is getting closer and closer)! I found a new website that has some great writing prompts--especially for fantasy writers--and this one jumped out at me right away: Out catching fireflies on their family's farm on a hot summer evening, two little girls accidentally capture a faerie instead.

 

I changed it up a bit to make it more "me" replacing two girls with a brother and a sister (shock shock).

 

I've always had a fascination with faeries. I put them in the same category as ghosts and paranormal occurrences. Paranormal just means something is beyond our realm of understanding--it's not normal. Just because we can't understand it, explain it, or always see it, doesn't mean it isn't real. I am a firm believer in faeries because... WHY NOT?!?!?

 

When I was a little girl, I did have a strange experience down by the creek at the end of our street behind the playground. I was playing down by the water (which I admit I was not allowed to do) with my neighbor and best friend at the time when I slipped and fell into the water. I sat there for a minute, stunned and embarrassed when something caught my eye. It was a fish swimming around by my feet and as I continued to watch it, it jumped out of the water and hovered in front of my face for a moment before flying away. I've never seen anything like that before or since but, to me, that was the only proof I needed to know that faeries are very much real... we just don't always know where to look for them.

 

I think that there is magic in our everyday lives. It all depends on how you look at the world. It's like that Roald Dahl quote, "Those who don't believe in magic will never find it." If you look at the world knowing it's just brimming with magic, you will see it everywhere you look whether its the profile of a sleeping mountain, sunlight hitting the wings of flying bugs just right, or a summer night long ago when you don't know if you were holding a bug in your hand... or a faerie.

 

I choose magic and I hope that your life is touched by it too.

 

a.r.w.

Birthplace

“This is madness!"

The fae continued to lean back against the tree, watching his queen pace back and forth, oblivious to the fact that the hem of her white skirt was now covered in mud.

They called her the Bastard Beauty in this small, godforsaken town and they were right—she was indeed beautiful with her curly chestnut brown hair, bright green eyes, and dark skin. Her beauty was not of this world—he knew that and it was high time she had accepted it too.

“I do believe that is the ninth time you have said that word in the last hour.”

She stopped in her marching to turn and glare at the dark man before her—his skin was as pale as the moonlight and his hair as dark as the night.

“What did you say your name was, again?”

He just smiled at her ferocity. She was indeed the lost queen—no one else could speak to him in such a way and live to tell the tale. “Korzaeleous.”

“Odd name,” she muttered under her breath.

“Not where I’m from,” he declared as he pushed away from the tree and sauntered over to stand before the girl.

She eyed him suspiciously as she took a step back. “And where is that exactly?”

A lazy smile appeared on his perfectly handsome face… a smile that sent a shiver up her spine. “The same place that you came from…” His voice trailed off as he held his hand out to her. “Would you like to see?”

There was something about him. How she wanted to trust him, but every inch of her body told her to pick up her skirts and flee—get as far away from him as she could… for there was something wrong with him.

“Evelyn.”

The sound of her name on his lips made her take another step back, her eyes wide in fright. “How do you—“

“I know much more than just your name, my lady.” He bowed his head ever so slightly, his eyes begging her to take his hand and listen to what he had to say.

She did not doubt his words. She had caught glimpses of him throughout her life—always hidden in the shadows, always present, always unchanging.

As she thought back to his face throughout her life, she shivered, remembering her less than happy childhood. It had been filled with snide remarks, glares, rumors, and sadness. She was the Bastard Beauty. But that had been the kind name for her. In the darkness of the night, she would hear her father utter the cursed word “changeling.” And from the fear she spotted in the other villager’s eyes, that was what they really thought of her—not a bastard child but a monster from another world.

Another world.

Ever so slowly, she placed her hand in his and waited until his fingers wrapped tightly around hers. His smile widened as he turned to lead her deeper into the forest.

“Where exactly are we going?” she wondered curiously after a few minutes of silence.

“The place of your birth,” he said simply without turning around to look at her as if it was the most
obvious answer. He continued on before she could ask another question, “I was sent here eighteen years ago to watch over you and make sure that nothing happened to you.”

She bit her tongue. She had grown so tired of fighting with everyone in her life—she was no changeling; faeries were nothing more than old stories from a time before reason and logic. But the things this Korzaeleous knew about her, the fact that she knew she had seen him time and time again throughout her life, made her think that maybe—just maybe—there was some truth to the stories of the Old Ways.

Korzaeleous stopped in his determined march at the edge of a small clearing. The sun shone through the canopy of the forest, illuminating the grass of the forest floor. Evelyn gasped at the sight. At the center of the pool of sunlight was a perfect circle of mushrooms.

Tales from her childhood came back to her in an instant. “A faerie ring.”

Korzaeleous smiled at her.

Taking a step forward, he pulled her along behind him. “Are you ready?”

She wasn’t entirely sure what it was she was ready for, but looking back and forth between the fae and the ring, she slowly nodded her head.

Ushering her with his hand on the small of her back, he whispered smoothly, his eyes still locked on her face as if he was waiting for her to turn and run, “Ladies first.”

All her life she had been told to stay away from the rings—they were dangerous, portals to another world… the World of the Fae. But for the first time in her life, she did not fear the ring of mushrooms.

Looking back to the man one final time, she took a breath and stepped forward.

“Stop!”

Evelyn stumbled, caught around the waist by a man dressed all in white, a hood hiding his face.

“Let go of me!” she screamed, kicking her legs wildly like an animal caught in a trap.

As she looked around, she could see the forms of six other men dressed in white and Korzaeleous donned in black in the middle of the hoard.

With a swing of the sword tied to his waist, two of the men were down on the ground—their white garb suddenly covered in crimson blood. And within the blinking of her eyes, Evelyn was free of the man’s grip and running behind Korzaeleous through the forest, traveling deeper and deeper into the darkness.

“Who were those men?” she screamed out, her mind catching up with the moment and suddenly entering into a panic.

“Men from the Darren,” Korzaeleous growled as he paused to find his way. “They work for the Church and hunt down and destroy anything that has to do with our world.”

“What do you mean?” Evelyn was thankful for the chance to catch her breath.

Glancing over his shoulder, he looked down at her. “Magic.”

Evelyn lowered her eyes.

This morning she had been Evelyn Osmond. A normal girl living in a normal world, preparing to wed her normal fiancé. But the moment Korzaeleous kicked in her bedroom door and dragged her out to the forest, she realized that her life was now anything but normal. She knew that. He knew that. And it looked like these men—the Darren—knew it too.

Korzaeleous sighed, his hand still holding tightly to Evelyn’s in fear of losing her. “This might be a bit trickier than I thought.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Today's writing prompt was "place of birth." I've found that I've been drawing a lot more than writing here on this blog so I wanted to force myself to write something today (after all, there's only 43 days until NaNoWriMo!!).

This is a story that has been hidden in my head for about two years now. A young girl from the turn of the 20th century. A young fae who is ordered to protect her. A secret order whose only purpose is to destroy magic. Meet Evelyn and Korzaeleous.

I'm hoping to one day write this story out and explain why we no longer believe in magic in today's day and age. But for now, here is their first encounter with one another, the truth of Evelyn's identity, and the mysterious Darren.

a.r.w.