Once upon a time, there was a girl who believed in Faeries. She knew they existed, and yearned to catch a glimpse of them with her waking eye. One day, she crept into the forest in search of the Fae. Finally, she would seem them...
She came to a tree, an old tree, blasted by lightening and covered with moss and lichen. Sounds of laughter, snatches of delicately-spoken conversation could be heard from its depths. She moved closer trying to get a peek at the enchanted beings. Quickly, she glanced over her shoulder, making sure no one was within the vicinity.
Cautiously, the peeped down, only to find them gone. A trace of laughter, a trail of gossamer, a twinkle of pixie dust...Wearing a Ross skirt, vintage jacket and bow, Dollar Tree tights, and thrifted shoes.
I've always been emamoured with the concept of magical beings, Faeries in particular. The whole Cottingly fiasco with Frances and Elsie was particularly enchanting. While the girls confessed to faking four of the five pictures of Faeries, they never said whether or not the last one was a fake. Which bring us to the point: do Faeries exist? I think they do. They live in this tree in my piano teacher's backyard. Sometimes, I can hear them singing, but when I look inside, all that's left are reverberating echos of laughter. And a faint glimmer of irridescent pixie dust twinkles in the depths of the tree.
Mwah! Mwah!
~Adela
~Adela
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