They built their nest inside a snarl of rose bushes where nothing could reach them unscathed. Within this thorny fortress their hatchlings grew, happy in the scent of wild roses, entertained by rose hip mobiles, and knowing little danger from the outside world. It was only when they learned to fly away they realized the darker nature of the thorns who helped to raise them.
She stepped forward with care, studying the stairs. If she recited the words and stepped the right way, she could be whisked away on a wonderful adventure. She had no doubt this was the nature of magical stone stairways. If she did it wrong, not much would change at all, but what fun would that be?
Ruby was delighted to discover she could shape shift, as any child would be. From the corner of her eye she could see her antennae and she felt several legs where once there were only two. Which was good, because she was tiny now and home was still far off. She felt something flutter on her back – wings! Oh, joy, she could fly! She flew through the air, catching a glimpse of herself in a puddle and whooping in delight to find herself her favourite colour too.
The trees were given a rare chance to glimpse themselves in their reflections, watching their likenesses ripple in the breeze and finding themselves quite handsome. The water didn’t stay long enough to cause any harm, but gave them just enough time to comb out their branches and organize their buds before summer.
Those first green things, so timid in the light and so unafraid of frost, are the bravest souls I know. Before the trees unfurl their leaves they’re there, daring to bloom in the sunlight while it lasts. Before it’s hidden away. One glorious week or two of brilliant life until it fades away, happy, satisfied, willing to wait another year for its time in the sun to come ’round again. I wish I could be half so patient.
The little boy couldn’t find any red roses but he found some lovely green ones by the creek and picked those for his mother. He got out his water paints and considered painting them red, but then he decided against it. After all, in early spring green is just as stunning as red could ever hope to be.
He saw the little girl headed his way and froze. There was nowhere to hide on this desert of a roadway. She grew closer. He crouched, ready to jump. She stopped, looked at him a moment, then continued past.
He croaked with relief. He was certain she was going to kiss him. Every toad knew that little girl kisses gave them warts, cooties, and maybe even the heebie-jeebies. One of his friends got them so bad he turned into a prince. They never heard from him again.
The beast reached out its monstrous arm to comfort the frightened child. She jumped with the beast’s talons touched her shoulder. Then she noticed its talons were fuzzy. Soft, even. She swiped at her tears and turned to get a better look. “Well, you’re not so scary after all.”
The beast smiled and tried to be brave. The child had terrible, red eyes. Some sort of liquid was leaking down its face. More dribbled from its nose. Its fur was all shaved off and it was covered in strange blankets. Whimpering, the beast stepped back into the forest as quiet as it could.
The undine hummed an underwater lullaby to the eggs in her care. She tucked the salamander eggs a little tighter into their cloud and dusted the settling mud from the clutches of frog eggs. Oh, she could hardly wait till they were hatched and filled her pond with happy swimming friends.
Jennifer Shelby 