Another story (the one with the crown)

- Do I really want to wear it? - asked the Fairy.
She held the crown in her hands. It was beautiful: made of white gold that branched out from the thin band in the base into intricate leaves and flowers made of diamonds and emeralds.
- It is certainly very pretty and will suit you - said the Wolf.
The Fairy smiled; the smile was somewhat thin and laboured, and looked more like another scar across her face. She sighed.
- It is also very heavy - she said.
- Well, it is yours - said the Wolf. - You earned it. You worked hard for it, and now you can wear it.
The Fairy put the crown back on its red velvet cushion. She traced the leaves with her finger; there was a little dragon hidden between them, its eyes made of tiny rubies. For a moment there she thought she felt it move under her touch, little wings waiting to expand.
- I don't want it - she said.
- Why?
- Because it is so beautiful, and so heavy at the same time. Because there always will be the weight of it on my head; I will always have to stand straight and smile to match it.  In five years it will wear me, and I will become the crown. There will not be me anymore here. I've already closed my soul in the box once because I thought it was the right thing to do. - She rubbed the scar on her cheek. - And because there will be people, again, who will fight me for it. And I don't want to fight for a piece of metal. It's just gold and precious stones. This is just so not me.
The wolf sat down and looked at her with dark, serious eyes.
- Are you sure?
She smiled; it was a different smile now, one of relief that made wrinkles around her eyes.
- Yes. But - she picked the crown up, reached for the dragon and took it - I will take this little fellow with me. He does not look very happy here.
The dragon stood in the palm of her hand, then stretched, yawned and flapped its wings.
- How did you do it?
- Magic, silly. And the crown will looked great on a certain pink pumpkin that still stands in this little dusty corridor that leads to the loos, don't you think?
- There are two pink pumpkins standing there, if you don't remember.
The Fairy grinned.
- Oh, well, they may have to fight themselves for it, then...

10/05/2017

Komentarze

Prześlij komentarz

Popularne posty z tego bloga

A completely different story

for Sam, who brought them back There was a forest, and in that forest there was a lake, and on that lake there was an island, and on that island there was a mountain, and on the top of the mountain there was a tower. In the topmost chamber of the tower there was a mirror and a chest. And a wolf, curled around himself, with a bushy tail covering his nose.   The Third Fairy stood in the doorway, panting. She hated the stairs. She particularly hated the stairs if before climbing them she had to run across the forest with no shoes on, then swim across the lake and climb the mountain, all in the bloody velvet dress.  The wolf raised his head and barred his teeth. His yellow eyes sparkled menace. - Password! - he barked.  - Fuck you! - barked back The Third Fairy. She crossed the room and yanked at the lid of the chest. It didn’t move. She kicked it and then started to jump on one leg, swearing. The wolf looked at her with disgust. - Where is the key? - she hissed through
Czytaj więcej

Bajka z innej bajki

Dla mojego stada Na brzegu rzeki, przez którą zamierzała się z wilkiem przeprawić, Trzecia Wróżka spotkała skorpiona. - O, zobacz, pajęczak – ucieszyła się. Wilk spojrzał na nią dziwnie. - Wydawało mi się, że nie lubisz tego gatunku zwierząt? – mruknął. - Ja? Ja lubię wszystkie zwierzątka. Zobacz, jaki ma śliczny błyszczący pancerzyk. Wilk łypnął na skorpiona podejrzliwie. Pajęczak przydreptał bliżej. Wilk cofnął się odruchowo. - Ma paskudny kolec jadowy – zauważył. - E tam, jaki tam kolec jadowy, zupełnie malutki. Poza tym wszystkie skorpiony mają kolce jadowe, ale nie wszystkie są śmiertelnie jadowite, słyszałeś o tym? Ukąszenie niektórych boli jak ugryzienie komara. - Ten tutaj wygląda mi na takiego, co może zabić wołu – odparł wilk. - No ale zobacz, jakie ma piękne szczypce, takie duże… - Słuchaj, przestań – warknął wilk. – Jeszcze chwila, a nazwiesz go Żeluś, zabierzesz do domu i będzie spał na twojej poduszce, a wtedy ostrzegam, że ja się wyprowadzę. - Co, zazdrosny je
Czytaj więcej

Untitled

The 21st century brought with it the abolition of witches. The karmic debt in the previous centuries was usually dealt with by fire. You indebted yourself to the witch, then you waited some time and burned her just before you had to pay. Of course, it did not really work that way, because the debt accumulated somewhere and hit someone, but most people thought it was this easy. Do not pay, and then, when your time is up, gang up together, tie her up, douse in tar and set on f ire. In the 21st century, with its safety measurements and flammable materials out of reach, and most of the people scared to death to use them, the witches started to learn, finally, about the other side of the karmic debt. The execution. The decision whether to execute or not. The power it entailed. All those little ways in which the life of those who wronged them could be turned into misery. The fireball they usually were turned into, now they held in their hands. To throw, or not to throw. There were mome
Czytaj więcej