Silvercat - 8/25/2007 8:53 AM ET
What a beautiful story (with a good lesson) to read to an impressionable child!
| Swiftly, a barefoot little girl ran through a meadow towards a small cottage. As she ran, her small fingers grazed the long grass wildflowers littering her path. When her fingers brushed against a closed flower, it burst sending seeds spiraling towards the ground.
The dying sun sent its last rays of light over the meadow. Each ray fell upon a single flower. Without a sound hundreds of flowers basking in the dying rays began to slowly unfold. The stars,looking down from their lofty perches, were the only observers as hundreds of as dazzling wildflowers opened. From the center of each blossom a small fairy emerged. As they floated upwards, the deserted field was lit with a sprinkling of light. Each of the fairys was the color of the flower in which it made its home. A dazzling shower of fairy dust fell from their beating wings. With little hesitation, they quickly went to work.
One flew over to a patch of wilting plants and as the fairy dust hit its leaves it turned into dew that made its stalks stand straight as the plant was fed. Another let her dust fall over a newly woven spider web, making it shine in the starlight. All over the meadow spiders were inspired to spin, creating many patters of silver. If you looked hard enough you could see small specks fluttering over the field, renewing the earth. The night grew old, and with a last burst of energy, the fairies flew around in spirals of joy, laughing, before retreating to their homes. The last drop of magic landed upon one of the seeds released by the girl. It took root and immediatly started to grow.
The yellow sun rose happily three times before the seed had become an adult plant. A fairy inhabited its first flower, but the newborn girl inside was too timid even to peek her tiny head above the petals. She looked around her. Her home was not a brilliant yellow, blue or pink, like the others around her. There was no denying it. The flower was dirt brown. She heard one older (and quite snobbish) fairy girl remark, “ Who would bother wasting fairy dust on that pathetic bloom? I don’t think anything could make it magical. Imagine how ugly a fairy living inside that would be!” How could a fairy work magic from a flower of such an ugly color? She sighed and the tiny fairy curled up. Every night for weeks the other sprites spread their beauty watched by a wistful pair of bright hazel eyes. The fairy child simply could not bring herself to come out. Then something happened that changed everything.
The very same little girl that had knocked the flower seeds was playing happily in the meadow when she heard the familiar call to home. She quickly stood up, abandoning a tea party of acorn cups with grass seeds, and ran towards the cottage. However before she got there she stopped , and picked a flower for her grandmother. It was not a pretty flower, but something made it special. Little did the girl know that it was the fairy eyes gazing at her from within its blossom.
After the gift was received the bloom was placed in a tin can upon a short table. That entire day she watched the pair at work. As the sun set, a single ray pierced through the dusty window and fell upon the brown flower. And of course, it opened.
Peering around her the flowers fairy was shocked. Inside the cottage there was nothing but a rusty bucket, used to carry water, a rickety bed draped with a ragged quilt, two worn dresses, neatly patched, hanging from a wall, and of course the table upon which her flower was placed.
There was no one about when, for the first time, the fairy crept from her home and discovered her wings. She was inspired by the kindness of the small girl and the loving care which was given by the grandmother. Slowly at first and then gaining a kind of exhilarating speed as she fluttered her wings, and coated the inside of the cottage with fairy dust. Feeling satisfied but exhausted, near dawn she retreated to the flower and slept. She did not notice that her home now shone a brilliant gold.
The next day two more surprised people could not be found then those inhabiting the meadow cottage. The woman and her grandchild had woken up to a very different scene then the one in which they had drifted off to slumber. Covering them was a white thick down blanket and under their heads were pillows soft as clouds. There was a stove, a water pump, a magnificent table and countless other things. It would be impossible to give a description of all the changes that had been made. On the table, sat a beautiful vase holding a single golden bloom.
When the fairy child realized what she had done, she felt more wonderful than she could remember feeling in her short life. The grandmother and little girl lived forever in comfort, but more magnificent was the change in the fairy with the golden wings.
From that day forth, in the meadow, all the fairies looked up to her. For every evening, she flew. Not over the grassy fields but into homes throughout the villages nearby. Every kind deed, every good person was rewarded.
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