A Sleepy Fairytale

Once upon a time, in a small village a long, long way from here, there was a girl. Simply an ordinary girl, or so she thought. So everyone thought, in fact. For as far back as anyone could remember and beyond, every person in her sleepy little town had been ordinary. Why would she be any different?

Except this girl had a secret. A secret so precious that she kept it hidden from everyone - including herself.

You see, this girl? She believed in magic.

That’s all it needs, the magic. It only needs one person to believe for it to thrive, and she believed enough for a hundred, a thousand people.

But she forgot.

Now, don’t be afraid. She was a brave girl, and she forgot so the magic could live. For if anyone knew she was the one keeping the magic alive, she would have been in terrible danger. Magic, knowing this, erased her memory but left her belief untouched, allowing it to live on and the girl to grow up carefree.

Until one day she wasn’t anymore.

As so many of these stories begin, a stranger entered the town, seeking something. To everyone but the girl, he was charming, and clever, and good. A slyly handsome man, who invited quick trust with merely a smirk and an elegant flick of the wrist, but she could see through his disguise.

He was a Faerie, but not the kind that flits sweetly through meadows and grants wishes. No, he was Fae in the true sense of the word: capricious, and callous, and self-serving. The kind of Fae that steals children from their beds and invites them to join their unending Dance. The kind that parents warn their children to fear.

The Fae did not want magic in the world. If the humans had it, they were all-the-more capable of resisting the lure of their Call. If the humans had it, they did not need to fear. This was unacceptable. One day their Queen, beautiful and terrible and cold, had enough, and she sent her subjects out into the world to find the human that was keeping the magic alive.

The girl trembled. Although she did not remember the magic, the magic remembered her. It raised the hair on her arms and her slender neck, and she ducked instinctively behind her mother in fear. She wasn’t quick enough. The Fae’s keen eyes locked with hers. She began to cry.

Then, he moved, fast, faster than a human ever could; the Dance trained him to move swiftly and carefully, and before she could breathe her mother’s name, he was there, reaching out.

The magic burst forth. In an instant, her memories returned. She ran. And she kept running - far, far away, ignoring her mother's cries as she went. As far as she could, and the magic covered her trail. But, the Fae knew who she was. He had seen her face. They were hunting her, and she was all alone.

That's where we begin.

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A couple weeks ago, as I was falling asleep, the first few lines of this popped into my head, and, despite my exhaustion, I couldn't rest until I wrote it down. It's merely the beginning of a tale, and someday maybe I'll return to it. I hope so.