Part Four by Josey Bozzo ...
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Yes, help her. That was exactly what I had to do. But how in the world was I supposed to do that? Where do I find medicine for a fairy? Touching her seemed unwise. Mishandling her fragile form might break her beyond repair.
Her weeping worried me. Was she in pain? With all the talk of liver damage from this pain reliever and recurring illness from others, just what was I to administer to a mythical creature? Perhaps she didn’t have a liver. I thought to Google “how to fix a fairy,” but quickly dismissed the idea.
I longed to talk to Granny, but she was gone now. When I’d stayed at her house as a child, her stories enticed me to believe in fairies. I wish I’d paid better attention, but Granny had never told me what to do if a fairy landed broken on my doorstep. I was sure of that.
Granny’s stories were lovely, taking me back to a time when magic had been possible. Many a nights I'd slid into sleep with blissful thoughts of twirling around the garden in the moonlight with dozens of fairies flittering around me, the breeze from their wings moving my hair away from my face and tickling my cheeks.
I dropped to the floor again and peered into the box. Those were just dreams, this was real.
My head whipped up. My family had arrived. I looked down at Her one last time, reaching for the box lid, and said, “I have to go.”
I looked at Hector. The cat stared back, his amber eyes wide with interest. She’d spoken. The Her had spoken. I bent closer.
“Neachtar…” she said again, and closed her eyes, drifting, I hoped, into to healing sleep.
. . . To be continued next Friday.
Thank you, Josey!
Josey Bozzo is a treasured regular here at Novel Matters. You can read more of Josey on her blog here.
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