A Little Christmas Fairy Tale

christmasfairy

 

By J.W. Burton

Once upon a time, there was a little Christmas fairy. She was a beautiful little Christmas fairy! Her lips were as pink as sugar mice, and her eyes were holly-green, like the holly sprig she wore. Her curly hair was a mane of spun gold, and her wings shimmered liked feathered frost. Her dress had a garland of roses, and was woven from golden beams that had shone from the very first Christmas Star. Her skin was covered with gleaming stars like sunlight on fresh snow, and she glowed with Christmas cheer.

The little Christmas fairy was hidden away for most of the year, making decorations for Santa Claus and his elves to scatter in the Christmas skies. She spun tiny gold stars and silver snowflakes that glittered and shone, flying here and there in flurries and fountains wherever the night was darkest. In the bleakness of December, the little Christmas fairy’s work could be seen piercing the cold night. Her magical little lights hung in the night sky, winking down at the earth, and racing in shooting showers over the heads of the people far below.

But the people did not see the Christmas fairy’s tiny lights. They did not see the love she had spun into each little piece, or the time that she spent over each one, to get it just right. But Holly-Rose, the little Christmas fairy, knew how much love she put into them, and she loved her work, and she loved the people she scattered her handiwork over.

Best of all, Holly-Rose loved Christmas time. She loved to fly above the darkened world and throw her joyful little stars and silver snowflakes onto anybody who needed some cheer in the night. Sometimes, she would spend a little time with the lonely and forgotten people, and try to warm them a little with her golden Christmas light.

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Settling In

* Runner-up in the 2014 Stories Space Drabble Competition *

By Cecilia Rogers

New starts can be tricky at any age…

“It’s not what it looks like,” she said.

“It’s a cage—I hate it.”

“No, it isn’t a cage; it’s better here than it was there.”

“I LIKED it there! Why did we have to leave?”

“It was cramped. Here we have room, room to grow.”

“I don’t care! I wahhhnnnaagoooobaaaaaccckkkkk!!!!!”

“Oh don’t cry,” she wailed, “she’ll come soon!”

Which she did, summoned by the cries. One by one, each was lifted from the crib. Soothing sounds were heard, and their plaints gradually subsided to soft nuzzling.

“My darlings,” she whispered, “you are the best Christmas gift I’ll ever have.”

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© 2014 by Cecilia Rogers • All rights reserved