The Fairy-Teller

Mia climbed higher and higher, finding perfect footholds and practically gliding

up the tree. She was high enough to feel a gentle sway in the tree, and when she closed

her eyes, it felt like they were dancing together. Mia glanced at the sun and realized how

late it was and began to scramble to the ground to catch up with her family. After turning

a few corners, she started to wonder how long she had been in the tree. At the next bend

in the trail, her eye caught a small footpath off the trail to the left. It was narrow, and

though it was a distinct flat path, it didn’t look well-worn at all. She glanced down the

trail again, squinting to see her family, but there was still no sign of them. She looked

back at the footpath and, after a pause, stepped off the trail and began picking her way

down the narrow path.

The air cooled almost instantly, and the leaves seemed to close in together to

create a small tunnel. Mia looked up and saw gnarled branches forming a perfect

archway above her. The colors around her grew richer in the dimming light and small

white flowers appeared here and there among the tangled vines. The path was twisting

and turning every few feet now. Just as Mia was starting to get nervous, the branches

allowed some sun to peek through and the path grew lighter. “Finally,” Mia thought, “I

can see where this comes out.”

She followed the patch of bright light ahead and, blinking, stepped into the sun

and right into the path of a passing wagon.

“Whoa! Miss, watch where you’re goin’ coming out of those woods, eh?”

Mia, stunned, looked up at the driver of a wagon that nearly ran her over. His hair

was bright red and bushy, and a beard covered most of his face. His eyes were bright and

as bent over to pat the spooked horses Mia saw a perfectly round, shining, bald spot on

the very top of his head. His clothes looked like they’d come from a costume closet. He

was wearing a bright green checkered shirt with large black suspenders holding up thick

tan pants. He wore bright red leather gloves, and a long old-fashioned pipe was wedged

in the corner of his mouth. Mia could see that the man was small, barely taller than she

was probably. They stared at each other in confusion, until Mia heard a voice behind her.

“Mia? Mia, is it you my dear?”

Mia, blinking and shaking her head, broke her gaze from the little man and

searched for the person calling her name. It came from a small woman bouncing her

way.

“Oh dear, of course it is you. Who else would be stumbling out of the woods at

this hour, dressed in such fashion. Oh what pretty trousers you have my dear. You’ve

grown so big and lovely now, haven’t you? Long, pretty hair now, eh? But oh, those

eyes, little Mia, I’d know them anywhere. Oh so big so big, sweet Mia!”

Mia, already confused, was now completely bewildered by this woman she did

not recognize at all, speaking to her as if they were old friends. In her confusion, it took a

few moments to notice that the little woman was gingerly guiding her along by the elbow.

She was dressed in all purple, except a bright yellow flower in her hair and a frilly blue

and green striped apron at her waist. She was barely taller than Mia, but clearly much

older. Her face was wrinkled and pink, with small eyes that danced as she prattled on to

Mia about her big eyes, how she’d grown and how exciting it was that she was there.

“But, where am I?” Mia thought. Below her was an uneven cobblestone street and

all around her were leaning, crooked buildings, painted in bright cheery colors. The signs

looked relatively new, but Mia noticed that they advertised services such as cobblers,

milliners, and butchers—storefronts that she saw in pictures from little European villages

centuries ago, not in the backwoods of Seattle, Washington. There were no cars, bikes,

or power lines. Mia began to feel quite certain that this must be a very detailed and

strange dream. Her hand flew to her head with the frightened thought that perhaps she

had fallen out of the tree and lost consciousness. But her head didn’t hurt and the warm

sun and the countless smells made it seem all too real to be just a vision.

“Mia, my dear? Are you alright?”

“What?” For the first time, the woman stopped talking and seemed to want Mia to

respond.

“Oh sweets, I imagine this is a little confusing. It has been awhile since you’ve

seen me, I suppose.”

Mia stared at her. “I’m sorry, have we met? You seem to know me so well, and

for some reason you think I should know you and this town and everything else, but I am

just a little confused. Do I know you? Where am I? Have I been here before?”

The woman’s bright blue eyes dimmed with just a hint of sadness, but it passed

quickly. “Well, Midgie said you probably wouldn’t remember us, but I just wouldn’t

believe it you know. I was there when you were born, dear, nine years ago. Your eyes

were so big, and you were the sweetest little thing with a mop of dark hair. You just slept

and slept and slept love! What a wonderful little baby you were. But, that is one of the

ways we know, dear. It is one of the signs of all of them.”

“All of them?” asked Mia. “All of who?”

“Just wait dear, Midgie will explain everything so much better than I am. I

muddle everything up terribly. Here we are sweet, here we are.”

They stopped at what appeared to Mia to be the town square. Directly in front of

them was a low wall, circling a large pool. In the middle of the pool was a cascading

fountain, with a stone staircase winding about it. Mia followed the staircase with her eyes

and was astonished to see a small house perched on the top of the fountain. “Who could

possibly live there?” Mia wondered. And as if she heard the question, the little woman

whispered to Mia, “Midgie, you know, dear. This is her home. Up and up we go!”

The staircase looked shaky at best, but her happy guide gripped her confidently by

the hand and Mia felt she had no choice but to follow her up the winding stairs. The mist

from the fountain was cool and fragrant, and as she climbed higher and higher, she took

in the beautiful view of the odd little village below. People bustled everywhere, glancing

up now and then at the strange visitor. They wore bright, garish colors and it seemed

every woman bobbed about with at least one flower on her hat. Mia, still confused on

how she got there, was surprised with how comfortable she felt in such an odd place.

In a few moments, they reached the top of the stairs and Mia found herself staring

at the bright orange door of the little home at the top of the fountain. In the middle of a

wreath of red and purple flowers was a deep green knocker. The little woman at her side

gave Mia a look that clearly meant she was to knock it. Hesitantly, Mia reached for the

knocker, lifted it, and let it drop. Instead of a normal clang, Mia heard a sound resembling

thousands of little bells all jingling at once. Mystified, she tried it again, and this time the

knocker made a loud trumpeting sound. Mia curiously raised her hand to try again, but

the door opened, and Midgie appeared.

“Fiona! Mia! How grand! Oh my bones told me you’d arrive today, young girl.

Sometimes they mislead me, the old things, but today they were correct. Well, come in

now, and don’t doddle, my cupcakes will burn.”

Mia now knew her friendly guide’s name. Unlike Fiona, Midgie was a

formidable presence. She was stately and elegant, draped in purple from head to foot.

She swept about the room gracefully in a billowing robe and jeweled turban. Her eyes

were bright like Fiona’s, but in a piercing, rather than dancing way. She was not

unfriendly, by any means, but not as huggable as Fiona either. She was enchanting. Her

home was enchanting as well. Midgie steered them towards a small table in the center of

the room. The entire house, perched at the top of the fountain, consisted of only the one

room. It was filled with flowers, stuffed in countless shimmering vases scattered

throughout the room. There must have been at least fifty different tea sets as well, and

the walls were lined with crammed bookshelves, from ceiling to floor. It was a

remarkable little space and Mia spun slowly around in the center of the room several

times before Midgie firmly planted her in front of a plate of cupcakes.

“Now, darling,” Midgie began, “You look a tad confused and I imagine Fiona

here has done little to clarify things for you. Sweet as she is,” Midgie patted Fiona’s

pudgy hand, “she’s not one for details and doesn’t quite grasp the short, shallow nature of

a human’s memory.”

Mia had been sizing up the gigantic cupcake in front of her when the word

“human” caught her attention. “Human? Aren’t you . . . . human?”

Fiona giggled, “Well, dear, in a way. We are very much like you, but we are

fairies love, fairies. Just a tad different, but different to be sure you know.”

Midgie sniffed in a way that made Mia think she thought fairies were much more

different from humans than Fiona did. She continued,

“Yes, darling, we are fairies.”

Mia stared and asked slowly, “Am I a fairy? Is that why I am here?”

Now Midgie laughed, but it was a much deeper, rolling laugh than Fiona’s bright

giggle. “No, dear girl, you are no fairy. You, Mia, are a Fairy-Teller. And that is why

you are here. Eat your cupcake, darling, and I will explain everything.”

“We fairies are a very long lasting sort of race. We last hundreds and hundreds of

years. I am six hundred and three, and sweet Fiona here is almost seven hundred. We see

humans come and go and believe in us and stop believing in us and fight amongst

themselves over the silliest of things. But, our stories are always amongst you through

our Tellers. Every one hundred years, we select a Fairy-Teller. This person is chosen for

their sweet disposition and creativity, a love for the earth, a vivid imagination, and a

strength of blood and spirit. The stars tell us a Fairy-Teller has arrived, and a couple of

us, in your case Fiona and myself, make ourselves present at the birth and mark the baby

as a Teller.”

Mia interrupted, “Mark?”

Midgie’s look silenced her, but she gently continued, “The rose on your right

shoulder, dear. That is a fairy’s mark. ”

Mia lifted her sleeve to look at her shoulder. Though noone else ever saw her

birthmark as anything but a splotchy freckle, she always believed it to be a perfectly

shaped rose. Because of it roses were her favorite flower. As she looked at it now, it was

more distinct than ever. The delicate little rose even seemed to be glowing a little in this

magical place.

“This is the mark of the fairies? But what does that mean? What does a Fairy-

Teller do? Do I have to stay here? Do I get to go home to my family? Am I in danger?”

Fiona glanced at Midgie, then scooted to Mia’s side and hugged her. Midgie

laughed her deep laugh again and patted Mia’s hand. “No, darling, you are not in danger.

And yes, you do get to go home. You must go home. You are a Teller. That means you

must tell the Fairy Tales. Without the Tellers, people forget the magic of fairies. They

will stop believing, and though Fairies are grossly misrepresented in literature in general,

it is quite true that when people stop believing in fairies, we die. Fairy-Tellers tell our

Tales. They share our stories with children and adults and teachers and anyone who will

listen. They weave our adventures into tales that will make people believe because it is so

lovely and enchanting to hear. The Tellers keep us alive by helping everyone believe.

You will do that now Mia.”

“But everyone tells fairy stories where I am. I mean, Tinker-Bell and Peter Pan,

Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, everybody knows tons of Fairy stories. What am I supposed

to tell anyone that they haven’t already heard?”

“Darling,” Midgie answered, sitting down by Mia, “Watching a movie with a

little pixie flitting about is one thing. But being a Teller is different--you have a gift. You

will tell stories of the fairies who live in the wood under the mushrooms, waiting to trip

rascally boys running away from their mothers. You will weave tales of fairies tiny

enough to live in rose petals, and large enough to need a house at the top of a fountain.

And because you have been chosen, they will want to listen to you and believe you and

they will fall asleep that night dreaming and believing in us. Little children will hear

your stories and take longer walks in the woods to see one of us peeking out from under a

leaf. They will build homes for us in their backyards and invite us to tea parties with

little acorn cups. And so we will live. And so will our magic.”

“But how do I know what stories to tell?”

Midgie rose and glided over to a bookshelf, where she pulled out a large gilded

book, tied with a ribbon. She handed it to Mia. When she opened it, Mia gasped to see

moving pictures, with fairies dancing from page to page and climbing on the words. The

second half of the book was filled with blank pages. She looked up at Fiona.

“Our stories are here, old and new, and you will create your own. You can create

us you know. As a Teller, you create Fairies just by telling a new story. You begin the

story and the book will help you finish it. The fairies you create will be born here and

then leap off the pages into the world. Start with these fairy tales love, and then create

your own. Only a Teller can read that book Mia. Anyone else will think it is only a fancy

journal, full of plain paper. You must be chosen by the fairies to read it.”

Mia fingered the pages more, absorbing everything Fiona and Midgie had

explained, basking in the beauty of the book and the tiny dancing fairies all over its

pages. Finally, she closed the book, and looked up at Midgie and Fiona. They sat side by

side, staring at her, waiting.

“So, I take this home with me?”

Midgie nodded, “Yes, Mia.”

“Do I start at the beginning?”

Fiona answered, “Start wherever you wish dear. You can start at the end, or begin

by creating your own story and see how the book draws it. It is your book now, love.”

Mia looked at the cover again and noticed a small purple fairy with shining silver

wings winking at her in a way that scrunched up the whole side of her face. Mia laughed.

She turned to a blank page, still thinking of the little purple fairy. Suddenly, the winking

fairy appeared on the page! She was bigger now, skipping back and forth across the top

of the page. Mia thought she was lovely. She looked up at Midgie and Fiona. The

women smiled, first at Mia, then at each other.

Midgie spoke first. “You’ve created your first fairy, Mia. What is her story?”

Mia looked at the small fairy, still skipping and winking up at her. “This is pixie.”

She stopped and looked at Fiona, “is that too plain a name for a fairy you think?”

Fiona laughed, “Pixie is a lovely name, dear. What does she do?”

Mia paused and little Pixie stopped skipping and sat down to look at her. “She

rides the leaves as they fall down through the trees. This is the first Pixie, but there will

be a new Pixie every Fall. Every morning Pixie wakes up at the top of a tall tree and

selects the brightest leaf she sees—oh!”

Suddenly Mia noticed that the page was filling with words. Pixie was still at the

top of the page, but she was now dressed in bright orange, with red wings that looked just

like Autumn leaves. Mia’s words were artfully painted on the page, beside a picture of an

enormous tree with Pixie perched at the top. Mia was thrilled. She continued, “Every

morning she selects the brightest leaf and skips to it. Then she hops on, pinches it off the

tree and rides it, spinning and tipping down to the ground. Then she flies back to the top

of the tree and picks the next brightest leaf, and then another and another, riding them all

down through the swirling wind until the sun sets. At sunset she digs through the pile at

the bottom of the tree to find that very first bright leaf. She cuddles up under it to sleep.

Then, magically, she wakes up in the morning at the top of another beautiful tree and

does it all over again.”

As the words filled with the pages, beautiful leaves began to unfurl from the top

corners of the page. Little Pixie skipped to the corner and, just as Mia said, selected the

very brightest one, and hopping on, floated down the page, just within the margin of

Mia’s story. The pixie laughed as she bumped against Mia’s words, twisting and turning

in her leaf. Finally, she reached the bottom of the page, and then flew to the top to do it

again, smiling and winking at Mia again before plucking her next leaf.

Mia watched Pixie for several minutes. She was completely absorbed in the color

of the leaves and watching Pixie slowly build a pile of them at the bottom of the page.

Midgie finally spoke, “It is a lovely story, Mia. Very well done for your first try I

must say.”

Mia looked up at her and smiled. “Really? It isn’t too short or silly?”

Fiona clicked her tongue and gently pointed to Pixie. “Does she look short or silly

to you, love?”

Mia shook her head, “No, I think she is beautiful.”

Fiona squeezed Mia’s hand, “I think so too, and I imagine your little sister, Josie,

will absolutely love this story. And tonight when you go home and tell her, she will

dream of Pixie and look for her in the Fall when the leaves begin to change. And Pixie

will live in Josie because you put her there. Well done Mia, well done.”

Midgie stood. Mia had forgotten how tall she was. “But to tell Josie the story,

you must go home, Mia. As much as we have loved our visit, it is now time for you to go

home.” Midgie and Fiona each took one of Mia’s hands and held it gently. Mia couldn’t

believe she was holding hands with two fairies, but felt as if she had known these women

all her life and she loved them dearly.

After a few moments, Fiona finally spoke in a quiet, cracking voice. “Yes Mia,

well, the little trail that led you here, love, will lead you straight out. Only a Teller could

have found it you know, and only a Teller can find it again. We’ll lead you back to the

path, sweet one, and then it is off you go!”

Midgie led Fiona and Mia to the door. Together, the three friends descended the

winding staircase and strolled through town to the path in the woods. Now it seemed

everyone understood who Mia was and why she was there, and there was a bit of a hush

through the town as they watched her carry their Tales back into her world. They waved

hesitantly and beamed at her quietly. Finally, they reached the woods and after hugs, a

long tight one from Fiona and a quick, firm one from Midgie, Mia turned to leave. Then,

she stopped and turned, “But, is this it? Will I never see you again? What if I have

questions or a problem or something goes wrong?”

Midgie placed her hand on Mia’s shoulder. “Love, we will always be here. You

will always find a little path in the woods when you need us. You are very special to us

and if the world tries to make you forget and tells you there are no Fairies and you are no

Teller, then you can always come here and remember. We will always be here Mia, we

promise.”

With that, Mia felt safe to leave. She waved goodbye to all the Fairies that had

stopped their business to watch her go and she turned into the woods. Back through the

tunnel, by the white flowers, and finally on to the path. She turned to the left, and

grasping her new book in her hand, ran to join her family and tell her first Tale.