Shannon Burns, Grade 8
Violet was an ordinary girl. She had ten fingers and ten toes. She had sparkling blue eyes that reflected her surroundings and silky brown hair which fell down to her waist. There were two things that made Violet look different from your average human girl. She was tiny. She was little taller than a pencil. And on her back were her transparent, glimmering wings. She lifted herself off the ground and there was a slight hum as her wings fought to keep her airborne. She wore a little skirt made of leaves which clung to her miniscule body. Her top matched and around her little head she wore a wreath of flowers from the garden. She fluttered up and landed on the rim of the bird bath where she was, seconds later, joined by a bird bright red in colour carrying a worm in its beak. A small, mischievous smile spread across Violet’s face. And she beckoned her someone invisible forward. A small child ran out of the house covered in vines. Her chubby face lit up in anticipation and she practically jumped for joy. “A fairy, a fairy, she’s going to be here!” the child muttered. It was now clear that Violet had called the child. The child sat and watched the fairy for a time and when her mother dashed outside, grabbed her hand and pulled her away the fairy disappeared without a trace. “There was a fairy Mum, there was!” the child sounded almost hysterical at the fact that Violet was gone. “Yes, there was, now let’s go in and do some fairy hunting of our own!” the mother replied in a kind yet disbelieving tone. Violet dived back down to the ground and, just as thunder cracked overhead, she lifted a large leaf over her head for shelter. Violet dropped to her knees soundlessly and curled up comfortably to watch the storm pass. Rain fell down like bullets and caused blemishes on her sensitive skin where is sneaked its way in. She tried to fly away but to no avail, there were little marks and water droplets clinging to her wings which disabled her flight. She dashed through the slightly overgrown grass to the front door. She hid in a pot but her skin was reddening and bruising, she then jumped under the door mat and awaited the end of the storm, lightening forking down before her. When the storm was over she climbed out of her place of refuge and examined the damage. A few fallen twigs here and there, nothing she couldn’t fix. She pointed her finger in the direction of the debris, it emitted a sparkle and the twigs, leaves and bits of tin disappeared. Adults so easily dismiss a young ones belief in the magic that is a fairy. Age wearies them and makes them naïve. The fairies are there, if you know where to look for them, you just have to believe.