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fragile things and bubble wrap

“I am Sifa of the Fabled Sidhe, goddess of fragile things. I have been sent to protect you.” The woman tore a strip from a roll of bubble wrap she held in her hands.

My heart fluttered. Should I run?

“Stay still. I won’t hurt you.” Her bright eyes reassured me.

She reached into my chest and pulled out my heart.

“Whump whump,” it said. “Whump whump.”

“I know,” she said, her voice reassuring. “There, there.”

I stared. My heart was an ugly purple and smelled of uncooked meat.

“Would you mind?” Sifa asked, lifting my heart.

I held my heart for her as she wrapped it in plastic bubbles.

“Whump whump,” it apologized.

“I forgive you,” I told my heart.

“Whump whump.”

The plastic crinkled as Sifa stuffed my heart back into my chest. “There. You should be good.”

I straightened up, a tickle in my chest.

“How does it feel?” she asked me.

“Whump whump,” I said, giddy as a child.

“Good.” She draped the last of the bubble wrap round her face like a veil, winked once, and disappeared.

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the rainbow fairy of crooked creek

As most of you know, the Daily Post is shutting down. I will miss the weekly photo prompts and community I found therein. For the final edition, we’ve been encouraged to share our all-time favourite photo. Here’s mine:

The fairy’s graceful lines and colourful foliage are famous throughout the province. If you whisper, you can ask her anything you like, but be warned: any disrespect and she’ll turn the creek against you. She is no stranger to cruelty and prejudice. She bears her scars. Young folk of marginalized sexualities can call on her for help and kinship. She turns none away.

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twisted

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I hide behind the twisted metal wreckage of the daily news. In my darksome cave, I am safe from the monsters of reality.

No one bothers to ask the monster under the bed what he is afraid of. But I’ll tell you, anyway.

It’s you.

The things you do to the children of your world. Yet they have nightmares of me. I’d shake my head and harden my heart, but I’m a monster. I don’t have either. I have to feel it instead.

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talisman of flight

The phoenix flew, disappearing into the azure skies forever. The sun glistened off his human lover’s fallen tears as waves crept up to steal them. He left her a feather, a talisman of flight. Angry, hurt, and unwilling to forgive him, she left it there.

The waves knew not to touch it.

The rocks held back. The sand shivered and lay still, hoping it wouldn’t be noticed.

A child toddled along, craving seaside treasure. Seeing the feather she grasped it and up and up she flew, soaring over islands, bays, and oceans, till she landed by the phoenix’s side.

The phoenix wondered what this could mean. Why had his human love sent a child in her stead? Could it be … his? But nay, such things aren’t possible. Are they?

“Bird,” said the child. “Fire.”

The phoenix nodded and sent the child home with fire. A fool’s gift to one too young to fear it.

Her village burned, till the waves came up and doused it, gathering the child and pulling her into the sea. Fascinated by the sky it could smell on her skin.

There it kept her, safe from flames. She walked the seabed a smouldering ember, her head above water. Not sky, not sea, not earth, not flame.

Not happy.

The embers of her skin cracked as she grew, dividing into plates. Toughening with endless callouses and turning green with algae. Her eyes brightened with inner flame and her pupils lengthened into slits. Webbing grew beneath her arms as the talisman of flight twisted them to wings.

She flapped the wings and left the sea, fire roiling in her belly. The dragon soared across the sky. She left the talisman behind, free.

Frightened waves hurried the feather to shore and dared not touch it again.

The rocks held back. The sand shivered and lay still, hoping it wouldn’t be noticed.

A child toddled along, looking for seaside treasure.