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The fairy with the heavy heart

A strange creature he was. He talked in rhymes, some clear as water, some the obscure product of his conflicted mind. At times, sweet and kind, he would come at night and caress her skin softly while she dreamed. She would wake up feeling luminous and strong. She would spread her illuminated blue fairy wings and fly high. On days like those, her senses were heightened, she could see the brightest colors, she could hear the faintest sounds, she could feel all the love in the world and heal all the sadness surrounding her.

 She would feel reassured of his love and kindness of heart and would look for him in his underground dwelling. She had been there many times, even before he lived there, because, even though she was a fairy, she had a darkness of her own. As a fairy, though, she had learned to hid it behind a smile. "Not to scare the little kids", she'd justify to herself. She'd go see him and listen to his rhymes and riddles. Encouraged by his night tenderness, by the magical transcendent state his caresses left her in, she would ask for a confirmation of his feelings. He would, however, groan, curse and send her away. She'd feel hurt, but would forgive him: "He must have his reasons, his darkness consumes him..."

Days would pass and she would worry about him.  She would send him a flower petal, a bright grain of sand, a seashell, a drop of honey, anything her fairy senses would think could bring his somber life some joy and light. He would come back soft, sweet and appreciative of the beauty she brought into his life. She'd feel hopeful he might choose to come live in the light someday. She hoped and she attempted to bring hope. 

One day, he told her of a beautiful dream he had had. Her heart began to beat fast with loving anticipation. He told her, nevertheless, he had dreamt he was walking hand in hand with a creature just like him. He let her know of his frustration and anger upon opening his eyes and finding out it was what it was: "Only a dream!” She asked him: "Didn't she have wings?" "No!", he replied. "Did she bring you flowers, honey, sea shells and beautiful things?" "No!", he retorted. She looked at him in silence for a couple of minutes and in a weak voice told him: "I wish you dreamed of me!" He let out a painful cry and drew his breath deeply. She felt small and frail. She had already regretted expressing her wish, her hopes. He shouted and screamed. He broke everything in his dwelling. Furniture, plates and cups were all thrown onto the walls. She felt frightened and diminute. He, then, became very quiet and still.  He lay down on the ground amidst all the ruins of his life. She stood there in the corner, trembling, shivering, her heart sunken, her wings unable to open, her legs unable to move.

She picked up a broken jar he used to keep the drops of honey she'd bring him. She looked around for its pieces, attempting to put them back together. Forgetting her own dreams, she said in a soft voice: “You do have to dream first, you know?" He did not move, he did not reply.  She could not find the right pieces of the jar. They seemed to have been mixed with every other piece of broken thing. She set the broken jar on the ground and remained there, in the corner, waiting. At times, she'd look at him and wondered if he had died. She called his name, she begged and pleaded. He did not look at her. She left his dwelling. She couldn't stay there forever.  She had her responsibilities as a fairy. 

She'd still come by, every day, to check on him. He had been mean and cruel, but she could not find it in her to hate him. Maybe, because she was, after all, a fairy. Maybe because she had, herself, been to the dark places his soul inhabited. She asked and begged, but he remained there, still, and did not look at her. 


One day, when the sun was setting, she came by and saw the furniture had been fixed. She looked inside, he wasn't there, but her fairy ears could hear the echoes of his recent rhymes. She looked around. There seemed to be no room for heightened senses and spread out wings in his dwelling. Or perhaps, there was just no room for a fairy like her. "Perhaps, there never was." She might never know, she might never understand. Yet, one thing she knew. When she had walked away from his dwelling, her fairy heart was carrying an extra weight, a heavy load that made her walk and move slower. She hoped he'd find the light he so much needed and that, perhaps, by doing it, he might remove that extra weight she now carried within.   She feared that, as long as she carried that load with her, she would never be able to fly as high as she once did. 

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