The Grove Of Gaiety

1-Micah the mistreated

There are various kinds of fairies, some tall, some small, others dark others colorful. All are very much magical and very much mischievous.

Whenever you hear the echoey giggles of my kind be sure to keep a close eye on your belongings or they may be "misplaced".

I am a fairy, I do not reject who I am, but I reject toying with others so others often reject me.

I don't find pleasure in cheating poor souls or robbing the unaware. I don't find joy in being, well, a fairy.

I walked along the unused path on my own two feet. Savoring the cold of the soil and letting my wings bathe in the wondrous mist that lingered in the ground. I relished in the forest's orchestra of mockingjays, crickets and leaves rustling disturbed by a quiet life form or the invisible wind.

I guess being a fairy wasn't all bad. Being loved by the forest and all it's inhabitants allowing me to call it home, being loved by the wind and being granted dominion of the skies and winds. But my kin is stained. One look at the pointed ears and iridescent wings and I'll be run out with stones and scorn.

I gave way for a small rabbit to rush by before carrying on my way. Soon enough the sound of water running reached my ear. My refuge, away from my kin and away from mankind. Just me and the gifts our Mother left us. Somewhere in all the time I've been running from the fae I stumbled into the most magical place I've ever seen.

It was a tucked away cove with a little creek flowing into it, hidden by vegetations and moss. Inside was a crystalline pool with a series of waterfall like fine feathers dropping from the window to the heavens that opened above the aquamarine pool. It was quite shallow and you could find a few sunkissed rocks to ease into and forget the world. Truly an Eden for someone like me who most wished would fall of the earth. I wonder why with such a large opening this site remains untouched by others. No matter, I sat a cross legged at the pool and spread my wings as far as I could, back facing the sun, and hummed to myself.

The rushing sound of the waterfall, the birds' cry that find their way into these walls and the warmth bathing my wings while the cool water refreshes my weary body. Sheer bliss even if most days the song of Mother is not enough to sooth me and I wish for someone to share this with.

Some loose rocks fell from the window and I flew to the shadows.

I looked up and found nothing, just the wind.

How someone as cowardly as me wishes to make friends is beyond me. I sighed and resume my spot basking in light and warmth that I find no other place.

______________________

I panted beating my wings like there's was no tomorrow. I have to fly faster. I need to fly faster!! I swerved and dove around the broad trees and never once stopped fluttering my tired wings. I could hear their giggles and jeers behind me. They would swear at the obstacles that I used to keep them away but it didn't stop them. They will catch up to me and pound me till the entertainment I supplied ran out. Or if they got bored they pit me against something I have to fight to entertain themselves.

Fae were cruel and vindictive creatures. They saw themselves as superior for having so many gifts from our mother, I guess you could say we are spoiled brats that haven't been put in line. Our mother went away so long ago we know of no other being who can face our magic and wickedness and win. Not even ourselves.

Two colorful fae flanked me from the right, their sharp teeth and pitch black eyes dripping with malice as three more took my other side. The other three were vibrant flower fairies, the smaller kind that play like children amongst fresh bloom and decieve humans into thinking lone children are playing in the fields. These kind were not mischievous, but carnivorous. Rose petal and daisy yellow lips parted to reveal stained canines and a lust for flesh.

Dear mother, thank you for the gift of fear, it has kept me alive many a times, but right now even as fear grips me, I know. My life is forfeited.

The glint of the puddle reflecting below me made me recoil. It dawned on me then. I grinned before shooting upwards like an arrow and breaking through the protective ceiling of our sleeping guardians of the forest. I fluttered my paper like wings and struggled against the wild currents that assault the crown of these ancient trees. They can't come here, too frail, much frailer than my opalescent turquoise butterfly wings. I live another day.

Ever since I was exiled by the firstborn fae, King Oberon, I have been fair game for anything after my head. Or my wings.

My kind are brutal and savage, losing a head means nothing. There are those who like to humiliate their opponents by disgracing them for the rest of their lives. They rip their enemies wings and bear them on their homes like trophies, while the loser lives a painful life incapacitated and humiliated for their lack of wings. I've only just narrowly escaped such fate. Not being able to fly means certain death for a fairy.

Our wings are our greatest strength and weaknesses.