The Lost Fairy

The piece of writing below was created for and is dedicated to a little girl named Lydia, whom I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting.  Lydia is fascinated by fairies and so I thought of this story for her, based on her own garden and family.

She is six years old, so the story is pitched for a child of this age.  If any of you want to read this to your children of a similar age, please let me know whether they liked it.

Do not publish without my permission!

I might turn you into a toad if you do…..

—————-

The Lost Fairy 

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived in a house with a pretty garden.  There was a pond in the garden and she loved to sit by it to watch the frogs and newts playing in the water.

If she looked closely into the weeds, she could see tiny, black tadpoles swimming about, growing legs and ready to turn into baby frogs and newts.  Sometimes the frogs would hop about in the garden, jumping out of the bushes at her and making her laugh.

One sunny day, she went down the garden to sit on the bench by the pond.  A lovely, green frog was sitting on a rock at the edge and it winked at her slowly.

Then she heard a noise, a funny, whiny, whimpery noise, a bit like someone trying not to cry.

The frog jumped into the pond with a plop and then she saw it, sitting on the next rock.

She wasn’t sure what it was at first; she thought it might be a big, pink butterfly, but she’d never seen a butterfly like that before.  Butterflies were usually white, or brown, or sort of spotty. 

This one had pink wings, sparkly, with gold and silvery spots on them and as the sun shone through them, they looked like little pieces of rainbow.

One of the wings was a bit bent; it hung down lower than the other one.

It made the noise again and then a head popped up from between the wings and the little girl nearly fell off the bench in surprise.  She clapped her hands over her mouth to stop herself from squealing out loud.

It looked at her.

She looked back.

It had a proper face, like a person, with blue eyes and fair hair.  Its hair was a bit messy and spiky and underneath it, she could see little pointed ears.

“Are you a fairy?” she whispered, hoping that nobody else from the house would come and frighten it away.

“Yes, of course I am!”  It sounded a bit fed-up and it stretched, pointing its little arms at the sky.

“Oh, I forgot, you people can’t normally see us, unless you’re a bit special.”

“What’s your name?” the little girl asked.

“I’m Rosabelle,” said the fairy, “what’s yours?”

“I’m Lydia,” said the little girl.  “Mummy and Daddy say that I’m supposed to shake hands with new people when I meet them, but you’re very little and I don’t want to squash you.”

“That’s OK”, said Rosabelle. 

“How come I’ve never seen you before?” asked Lydia.  She had got off the bench now and was sitting on the grass near the pond, hoping that nobody from the house would see her.

“I’m not from round here.  I was on my way home after a fairy conference and there was a storm.  I got blown off course and I’ve hurt my wing.”

Rosabelle pointed at the wing that was drooping down.

“Have you broken it?” asked Lydia.

“I don’t think so, but there’s a hole in it and I can’t fly at the moment.  I’ll have to stay here until it’s healed up.  Can you hide me in your house for a day or two?”

“Course I can,” said Lydia, “but I’ll have to make sure that nobody else sees you.”

“Who else lives here?  Adults can’t normally see us,” said Rosabelle.

“Just my big brother, Mummy and Daddy.”

“I need something to help me patch my wing up.  Are you scared of spiders?” asked Rosabelle.

“Only a little bit, if they’re very big and hairy,” replied Lydia.

“That’s good.  I need some spider’s web.  See that one over there – it’s empty.” She pointed to a web in the bush a few feet away from them.  “Undo it by the corners and bring it over here, but don’t get too much of it stuck to your hands if you can manage it.”

Lydia looked behind her to check that Mummy or Daddy weren’t looking out of the kitchen window and went over to the bush.  The spider’s web was shining in the sunshine and she could see the four corners of it attached to different leaves.

She hooked her fingers underneath it and the sticky strands stuck to them.  Lydia edged her way back over to Rosabelle with the web.  It was waving about a bit and she was worried it was going to blow away.

“That’s it; well done,” said Rosabelle.  “Now come right over to me and see if you can wrap it around my wing.” She held up the wing with her hand and Lydia could see the hole in it.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“A bit.  It feels… sort of… sore and wobbly.”

Lydia gently undid the spider’s web from her fingers and put it over Rosabelle’s wing.  It stuck fast against it, but she could still see the hole through it.

“I think I’m going to need another one,” said Rosabelle, “the hole’s bigger than I thought. Only take an empty one though, or the spider will get cross.”

Lydia looked around from bush to bush in the garden.  There didn’t seem to be any other empty webs anywhere and she started to feel really worried.  Then she saw a tiny web, not much bigger than her hand and was really pleased to see that there was no spider in the middle of it.

She unfastened the web and took it over to Rosabelle.  This tiny web seemed to fill in the hole very well and she smiled at Lydia.

“Thank you, it’s starting to feel better already,” said Rosabelle.

“Could you fly now?” asked Lydia, a bit worried that Rosabelle would fly straight away.

“No, I’ll have to let it heal up.  Spider’s webs help us grow new wings when we hurt them, but it takes a couple of days.”

“Do you want me to take you in the house now? Daddy’s cooking the tea at the moment and I’ll have to go inside soon,” said Lydia.

“Yes, OK.  Kneel down on the grass and I’ll climb on your hand, then you can walk in the house with me.”

Lydia knelt down and held her hand out, while Rosabelle hopped on to it. 

“Try not to look as though you’re carrying me,” she said, “just in case anybody notices.”

Lydia walked back into the house and said hello to Daddy, who was still in the kitchen.  She noticed him looking at her, then shook his head, as though he’d seen something that wasn’t really there.

She went upstairs to her bedroom and put Rosabelle on the windowsill so that she could see the garden.

“That was close,” said Rosabelle, “I think your Daddy can almost see fairies.  I can tell when people see bits of us.  We sometimes look like butterflies or little pieces of light to them.”

“You’d better hide at bedtime then,” said Lydia, “he usually comes to tell me a story.

After tea, Lydia sneaked up to her bedroom with a slice of apple for Rosabelle that she had saved from her tea and she sat on the window munching on it while Lydia got ready for bed.

Rosabelle hid behind the curtains when Daddy came to tell her a story and Lydia found it really hard not to laugh as she had got a huge, massive, enormous secret that nobody else knew about.

“Night night,” whispered Rosabelle as Lydia drifted off to sleep smiling.

The following morning Lydia woke up to find Rosabelle washing her face in the glass of water she kept by the bed in case she needed a drink in the night.  It was raining outside today; the skies were grey and there was no sign of the sun at all.

“How’s your wing?” she asked.

“It’s feeling quite a lot better today.  I might try out a little bit of flying later.”

“What are you going to do while I’m at school?” whispered Lydia.

“I’ll stay in here.  I need to catch up on some sleep as I’ve got a long way to go when I’m well enough to fly,” replied Rosabelle.

“Where did you come from?” asked Lydia.

“Cornwall,” said Rosabelle.

“Oh,” said Lydia, “that’s a long way, isn’t it?” but she wasn’t really sure.

“Yes, it’s hundreds of your miles from here and I’ve only got little wings.  I’ll probably have to take an overnight rest on the way back.  Any chance you can sneak a couple of cornflakes back up here when you have your breakfast?”

Lydia grinned at her tiny friend.

“Of course I will.”

When Lydia came back from school that afternoon, Rosabelle was curled up asleep on her pillow.  With her head tucked under her wings, she looked like a big, pink butterfly again.  Lydia wished that she could take a photo of her, but didn’t think that Daddy would let her play with his camera.

“It’s stopped raining,” said Lydia, “would you like to go in the garden until I have my tea?”

“Yes please,” replied Rosabelle, “let me sit on your shoulder and you can take me downstairs.”

Lydia sat by the pool and Rosabelle hopped on to one of the rocks.  Lydia watched her having a conversation with one of the frogs, but couldn’t understand what they were saying. 

“I didn’t know you could speak frog,” said Lydia.

“I was just trying to find something out,” said Rosabelle mysteriously.

Lydia watched Rosabelle as she tried some flying.  She hovered over the pool like a dragonfly and then landed on the rock again.  The landing was a bit wobbly.

“Almost there,” said Rosabelle, “I think I should be ready to go tomorrow.”

Lydia suddenly felt really sad.

At teatime, Daddy asked her if she had seen a big dragonfly over the pond earlier.  Lydia remembered what Rosabelle had said about people who can almost see fairies.

“A dragonfly, Daddy? Not sure.”

She didn’t want to tell a lie, but at the same time she didn’t want to tell Daddy that it was a fairy she had seen, or even that the very same fairy was sitting on her bedroom windowsill!

Later, she went upstairs with a strawberry for Rosabelle.

“Daddy can see you,” she said, “or nearly see you.  He thought you were a dragonfly.”

“Thought so,” said Rosabelle wisely, “I can usually tell.  We’ll have to be very careful when I go tomorrow.”

“Can I tell him about you, after you’ve gone?” asked Lydia.

Rosabelle thought for a minute. “Yes, OK, if you want to.”

“I’m going to miss you,” said Lydia sadly, “I never thought I’d see a real fairy.”

“There are lots of us,” said Rosabelle, “you just have to know where to look.  We live by ponds, and in trees, and where people are kind to their gardens.”

“Why can’t grown-ups see fairies?” asked Lydia, “and will I stop seeing fairies when I’m a grown-up?”

“Grown-ups usually can’t see us because they don’t know where to look for us, or because they’ve stopped believing in us.  If you still believe in us, you’ll still be able to see us, I promise,” replied Rosabelle.

“Really promise?”

“Really promise,” said Rosabelle.  “Anyway, it looks like your Daddy has never really forgotten about us, so you won’t either.”

Lydia settled down to sleep with Rosabelle on her pillow.

The next day was Saturday and it was sunny again.  Lydia was happy that it was sunny, then sad as she knew that Rosabelle would be going today.

Rosabelle was already awake and looking out of the bedroom window.  “It looks like a good day for flying,” she said.

Lydia saved a tiny piece of toast from her breakfast and gave it to Rosabelle, who ate it whilst she put her shoes on, then flew just above her shoulder as she walked down the stairs.

They walked past Daddy and Lydia saw him looking at her shoulder.

“Oh no,” she whispered to Rosabelle, “he’s seen you again!”.

“Lydia, what’s that?”

“What’s what, Daddy?”

“Oh, it’s gone now.  I thought I saw something by your shoulder.  Maybe it’s the way the sun was coming in through the window.”

Lydia trotted past him, then saw Rosabelle whizzing past her into the sunlight.

“He saw you! Where did you hide?”

“I was up on the ceiling by the light, then I hid at the side of you when he looked away.  That was really, really close though.”

They walked back down to the pond, with Rosabelle flying at Lydia’s side.

“It’s time for me to go,” she said. “Lydia, thank you for all your help.  You saved me, helped me get better and looked after me.  The fairies will never forget that.  I know you’re sad that I’m going, but there will be a surprise for you from us very, very soon.”

Rosabelle hovered very close to Lydia and kissed her on the cheek.

“Don’t forget to believe in us,” she said.

“I won’t, not ever,” said Lydia.

“Then come down to the pond tomorrow after your tea, even if it’s raining.  Goodbye!” called Rosabelle as she shot off into the air, pink wings sparkling.

———–

The next day after tea, Lydia did as she was asked and went down to the pond.  The frog was sitting on the rock again and it winked at her then jumped into the water with a plop.

On the rock where the frog had been, Lydia suddenly saw something sitting there.  It had pale yellow and green wings, brown spiky hair and brown eyes.

She rubbed her eyes.

“Hello,” said the fairy, “are you Lydia?”

“Yes! Who are you?”

“I’m Primrose and I’m one of Rosabelle’s cousins.  You looked after Rosabelle, so the Fairy Queen has decided that one of us should come and live in your garden to look after you, as a thank you for saving her.”

“Oh!…. I mean… oh, thank you!” Lydia was amazed.

“Only special people can see fairies and only very special people help them when they’re in trouble,” said Primrose.

“Will you be able to come in my bedroom?” asked Lydia.

“Yes, of course,” said Primrose, “but I’ll live in the garden most of the time.  Let me look at you properly.”

Lydia held out her hand while Primrose flew up and settled on it.

“You’re a very special little girl,” she said and gave Lydia a kiss.

    The End