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Fairy Dust back by Kate S. The shocking green grass of summer was almost blinding as I stepped off the deck and into the backyard. Mist, like a memory, shrouded the wooded edge of the lawn, and I started towards it. This mist, from as long ago as I can remember, has been there. It is always foggy and wet in this part of our home for some reason, but besides that, the mist holds secrets. Once a month, I come here, and always on the same date: the tenth. I’m not sure why, it’s just become sort of a tradition, and I like to call it The Searching of the Mist. Once when I checked, I found a tiny green hat and a felt cloak, as if a gnome had forgotten his rain gear. In fact, it had been raining by that day, and I quickly ran inside after finding the articles, but once in, I realized I’d dropped them in my mad dash to the house. That whole day I picked and prodded at the lawn, through the bushes, in the mist, but I couldn’t find either the delicate little cloak or the hat. The gnome must have enchanted them away, I had stubbornly thought, but now I am a bit older, and don’t believe in such things. However, it was all worth it, because on this particular day I fell in with something much more intriguing. As I came upon the mist, my stomach started to buzz with excitement. There were bright yellow tulips growing among it! That has got to mean something’s up! I thought. A bee droned past my ear, heading for the tulips, and a ladybug shone like a ruby jewel on the delicate grass ahead of me. Mother Nature was being quite extravagant today. I stepped into the little circle of fog and crouched among the tulips. Their petals were a lemon zest of summertime, practically glowing from their own abundant happiness. “I wonder what I’ll find this time,” I thought out loud, “It has got to be something goo-” Something had just whizzed past me at the speed of an angry hornet - but it couldn’t be a hornet. I had caught a glimpse of it, and it was fairly larger than any hornet I’d seen. I searched among the grass and tulips for this mysterious object, my hands shaking with excitement. There! That tulip, it was swaying unsteadily back and forth, its stem ready the break under the weight of some creature. I held my hands on either side of the flower’s cup, leaning forward so I could peer inside, biting my lip and - a tiny hand grasped the edge of it, and a little man drew himself up to stand. He was wearing a jester’s cap and matching leggings, and a puffed tunic, all impossibly small and detailed, of course, to fit him. He was about as tall as a Dixie cup, had the beginnings of a red beard on his chin, with flickering green slivers of shine for wings, and short brown hair sticking out from under his cap. He looked young, but rather feisty. When he saw me, he simply said,” No, I’m not a bloody fairy.” I realized I was gaping and staring dumbfounded at him, but I gathered my wits, somehow, and politely said,”Oh, I didn’t think you were.” “Good. I ‘ate them fairies.” He hiked up his leggings. This creature didn’t seem to care very much about manners. “Well, then what are you, sir?” I tried to not sound flabbergasted at him. I hadn’t even known these type of creature existed! And he seemed not at all amazed at me. What, did he run into humans every day? “I’m a bloody elf!” He grunted up at me. By now I’d started to notice that he talked like his tongue was too big for his mouth, a cross between an English accent and just plain cave-man. “Lash is the’ name, I live over in them woods, part of the clan. Nice to meet ya.” He stuck of a hand and shook my thumb. “I don’t mind you folks, much. So I figured I’d stop in at this spot for a bit, ya know, ‘cause the festival’s goin’ on with all ‘em fairies and gnomes here, in an ‘our or two, and I could grab a free bite ta’ eat. But I got bloody jam on me wings, and I lost control when flyin’. So, ‘ere I am now.” I could see his face start to look a bit nicer, so I smiled down at him, “That’s all right . . . Is the festival still on?” “Yeah, in an ‘our or two!” “Do they have it every month?” I was starting to piece an idea together, and my face was glowing. “If I’m not mistaken, always on the tenth. To celebrate good ‘ealth or somethin’. That’s why I was always finding odd things here! Like that gnome cloak and hat, or the little footprints, or that carved twig! That explained the constant mist, too. The partygoers didn’t want to be caught by any gawking humans, so they bewitched the place. I stayed to watch the festival, but hid behind a tree so those fantastical creatures wouldn’t get scared away. The fairies performed with a flying dance, and I saw other elves come and go. The gnomes plodded about, I even saw one with a felt cloak and green hat! Lash sang and danced, too, for that was why he was wearing the jester costume in the first place, and once in a while I saw him look over at where I was hiding with a little smirk on his face. He must have known that I wouldn’t harm them; he must have known that I was simply fascinated by the creatures, as I still am today. Well, I come every tenth of the month still. Actually, it just so happens I was born on the tenth of March. Ironic, isn’t it? That I fall in with a grumpy elf, and he pieces the puzzle together with me? That I came into the world on the same day that these magical creatures had been having one of their festivals? Ironic, yes - but maybe a little fairy dust, too.
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