The CAPTURE
YOUR GRIEF Photographic Challenge from CarlyMarie Project Heal is
part of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month – October 2013 and I am
making it more personal for me by taking a photo and then using it to create a
short story. - See more at: http://www.thisisawand.com/search/label/%23captureyourgrief#sthash.MAmYkr59.dpuf
Belief
The CAPTURE
YOUR GRIEF Photographic Challenge from CarlyMarie Project Heal is
part of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month – October 2013 and I am
making it more personal for me by taking a photo and then using it to create a
short story. - See more at: http://www.thisisawand.com/search/label/%23captureyourgrief#sthash.MAmYkr59.dpuf
The little fairy figurine sat pride of place in the shop
window, amongst cheap molded plastic and soft toys that had seen better days. The
harsh fluorescent lights did her no favors, hiding her true beauty under a
white unforgiving glare, but if you looked closely you could still see she was
a treasure. The fine porcelain had a luminescent quality, no matter the light
source and the deftly sculpted features were delicate and ethereal. This led weight
to the belief that the fairy had not been fashioned by hurried hands in substandard
buildings in far off lands, but instead born from a marriage of cautiously
measured exotic ingredients and whispered words of power. When seen from the corner of an eye, the delicate
wings seemed to flitter for a moment. The miniature wand was large with
untapped promise, of wishes and spells asking to be fulfilled if only someone
would believe enough. The fairy’s dress was the exactitude of a white calla lily,
so vital and alive until you reached to caress it only to find it hard and cold.
Whatever force was keeping her so imprisoned was unseen, and at any moment it
seemed as though the spell could break and she would leave, flying out the door
to wherever she was needed most. In plain sight of the girls and boys that ran
past each day busy with important tasks such as spending their last two dollars
on lollies or buying a card for their mother’s birthday, the fairy waited.
The box opened and the fairy was illuminated for all to see.
As the delicate pink tissue paper was peeled away, she was bathed in a perfect sunbeam
of light completely with sparkling particles which may indeed have been fairy
dust, if you were willing to suspend your knowledge of the practical world for
just a moment. Her fine strands of hair
wrapped with baby’s breath came alight with the touch of the sun. An imagined glimpse of movement was not so farfetched
as to be ruled impossible. Her eyes twinkled
in the light and seemed to take in the room, before settling on the child. The
squeal of delight was musical and magical, and like a bell, carried to every
ear in the room to settle and warm their hearts. Nothing heals like the joy of
a child. “It’s just perfect Mama, she will love it. I love it!” Two porcelain
hands that weren’t, cupped the fairy daintily as if holding a baby bird. Those
gentle hands clasped the fairy close to her chest where the rapid, excited
beating of a little heart moved the porcelain that was, and the fairy awoke.
The bell bird sung the melodies, and the tender breeze softly
reminded the trees to action, prompting them to sway and twirl in tune. The
clearing was an emerald, filtering the sun and refracting beams of light to
produce a kaleidoscope of shadow and light. Magic seemed to hide behind every
tree and under every bush, waiting impatiently for the grand moment of reveal. The fairy was clicked into place on a pedestal
at the edge of the little garden. Blue eyes stared at the fairy in wonder. “She
fits Mama! I can’t believe how beautiful she is. See the green lights dancing
on her, Mama. Thank you for buying her for me, for us.” In front of the pedestal, the little girl spun
around and around, arms stretched out as if to trying to grab something unseen just
beyond her fingertips. Her long blonde hair flowing out like ivory ribbons from
a May pole, the tulle on her ballet skirt encasing her in pink candyfloss as
she danced for the fairy that very first time. In a secret garden, decorated
with oh-so-carefully selected trees and flowers, and sitting high on her marble
throne, the fairy was home.
The morning sun swept the shadows from the clearing to awaken
the day. The ever present warbling of
the birds welcomed the morning and called it to attention with their own reveille. While the rest of the green
glen was as lush as ever, the grass in front of the pedestal was defeated and
flat from the little girl’s dancing, so they were going to put in a marble
slab, a stage for her to dance, before mud made an unwanted appearance. A few more treasures had been added to make
the garden more special and personal. . A little teddy statue kept the fairy company
each night when the sun was long gone, and when the hours until the little girl’s
next dance seemed endless. A miniature rosebush had been planted around the
base of the pedestal, and the bloom would provide a petti-skirt of pink when
the summer came. A small colored windmill
blew gently in the breeze and made a rhythmic clack, clack, clack, to which the
girl was now performing a passionate pirouette. It could as easily be the sound
of a tiny pair of tap shoes dancing unseen. The little girl’s limbs were long
and slender now, and she was growing into her grace. Her dancing was now less the joy of an
uninhibited child reveling in being alive, and more the elegant considered
steps of young miss finding her way in the world. She spun around, beginning
the choreographed steps again and again until they were perfection. Her dance
finished for the day, the girl bowed to her audience, and softly whispered wishes
and dreams of endless applause into the fairy’s ear. “I believe in fairies. I
do believe in fairies!” Basking in the glow of a world where a little girl
believed she could be anything her heart could imagine, the fairy smiled
The white marble slab was spread with a red gingham cloth, set
with fine china tea cups and place settings for two. On gold-rimmed plates, a packed picnic lunch
had been laid out; delightful club sandwiches and dainty petit fours already consumed
with relish and delight. Butterflies frolicked above, floating down the beams
of light reflected off the silver cutlery, blinding flashes in the full
afternoon sun. A delicious and elegant high
tea fit for the birthday of princesses and fairies. The dancing was ending now, replaced with
more sophisticated pastimes, dreams and plans.
In the shadow of the trees, the not-quite-so little girl rested with a
book of poems and fairy tales, she would occasionally read aloud from. In between, the silence was comfortable and familiar,
two better-than friends basking in each others company. As the wind grew
cooler and started to chill, the girl planted a kiss on the fairy’s head and
whispered “goodbye for now, the other half of my heart.” With the promise of the next visit only as far
away as the annual sands of time, the fairy sighed.
The rain ran like tears down the cracks in the veneer,
leaving white smears in the dust on the fairy’s face. The marble pedestal was
coated in dirt blown reluctantly and apologetically by the breeze. The fairy’s wings
were aged and the pure white lily was now grey. The little wand had broken off
and lay at the base of the pedestal, close enough to see, but so far from
reach. Still, she was a beautiful treasure and the evening glow of dusk was
kind to her, smoothing out the age marks from her features and restoring her
once perfect complexion, if only at first glance. The little girl was no longer little and she
didn’t dance anymore, nor visit hardly at all. Her last visit she spent
precious moments curled up in a ball or lying on her back in the grass which
had grown long and was threatening to cover the marble slab entirely. Still she had come though, and the fairy
listened as attentively as always to tears and whispers of boys and rings and
dreams of the future. A bittersweet
future where all they would share were the memories made here, in this special
place. As she turned to go, the young woman paused, and carefully considering
her words, whispered “I still believe in fairies” before she faded away like
the evening light. Alone, but not forgotten, the fairy was lost.
The box opened and from within white tissue, another fairy
was born into the light. Almost identical to the first, but her hair was dark instead.
They placed her with gentle hands on a matching pedestal that had been set into
concrete the week before. A new rosebush
had been planted, ready to surround her once more with pink candyfloss. The first
fairy had her cobwebs and dust swept away and missing wand replaced, ready to
perform miracles once more. The marble
slab was gleaming; in its reflection the flawless dance partner to the years of
performances past. Once again the garden was a fitting memorial of their
dedication to each other. Two fairies
close but never again touching, staring forever into each others eyes. On the new fairy was a name, a date and a
little silver cross. Words on the pedestal revealed in the light “Sisters are
different flowers from the same garden. Together again, now and for always”
Content and complete, the fairies rested together, their dance was done.
The
CAPTURE YOUR GRIEF Photographic Challenge from CarlyMarie Project Heal is part
of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month – October 2013 and I am making it
more personal for me by taking a photo and then using it to create a short
story
Take your
own picture, write your own words, take your own journey of healing - October
2013 #captureyourgrief ….
No comments:
Post a Comment