| Fantasy Fiction posted February 2, 2022 |
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Years of visits
The Guardians
by damommy
Just before sunset, I would come every day to this place and wait for the darkness to fall.
It was a while back that I had discovered an old hollowed-out stump. I thought the lights coming from there were lightning bugs, but on a closer look, they came from an even better source. Fairies.
It took many visits, sitting on the ground and softly humming a lullaby, inching my way a little closer, before I made contact. Each time, I hummed the same tune so it would become recognizable to the inhabitants, and maybe make them curious about me.
After weeks, months, I’ve lost count, one tiny light floated a little closer to me. Not that much closer, but it was a start. Just as I had slowly made my approach, so did this light. I don’t know if it was the same one every night or not.
Finally, it came close enough to touch, but I did not. To scare it off was a chance I wasn’t willing to take just yet. It came near enough I could see its face and delicate wings, and then one night, it . . . she . . . landed on my open hand. Success! Soon, the others followed, some girls, some boys. We talked. The girls sounded like harp music, and the boys, like flutes.
I told them I came here to visit my dear mother and father who were buried in this lovely cemetery. Questions from both sides flew like tiny bullets, each of us eager for answers.
From that moment on, every visit was filled with delightful stories. They were as eager to learn about me as I was them.
They had lived here since before recorded time, and had seen the earth’s changes throughout millennia, and remembered when this place had been nothing but forest, a primal forest. When it became a place for burial, it was then they decided they would stay and watch over all the souls resting here.
I’m an old woman now, and unable to make visits there anymore. But I’ll never forget those tiny folk who were willing to be a friend to a mortal.
Just before sunset, I would come every day to this place and wait for the darkness to fall.
It was a while back that I had discovered an old hollowed-out stump. I thought the lights coming from there were lightning bugs, but on a closer look, they came from an even better source. Fairies.
It took many visits, sitting on the ground and softly humming a lullaby, inching my way a little closer, before I made contact. Each time, I hummed the same tune so it would become recognizable to the inhabitants, and maybe make them curious about me.
After weeks, months, I’ve lost count, one tiny light floated a little closer to me. Not that much closer, but it was a start. Just as I had slowly made my approach, so did this light. I don’t know if it was the same one every night or not.
Finally, it came close enough to touch, but I did not. To scare it off was a chance I wasn’t willing to take just yet. It came near enough I could see its face and delicate wings, and then one night, it . . . she . . . landed on my open hand. Success! Soon, the others followed, some girls, some boys. We talked. The girls sounded like harp music, and the boys, like flutes.
I told them I came here to visit my dear mother and father who were buried in this lovely cemetery. Questions from both sides flew like tiny bullets, each of us eager for answers.
From that moment on, every visit was filled with delightful stories. They were as eager to learn about me as I was them.
They had lived here since before recorded time, and had seen the earth’s changes throughout millennia, and remembered when this place had been nothing but forest, a primal forest. When it became a place for burial, it was then they decided they would stay and watch over all the souls resting here.
I’m an old woman now, and unable to make visits there anymore. But I’ll never forget those tiny folk who were willing to be a friend to a mortal.
 Recognized |
Club entry for the "A Meeting in a Cemetery" event in "Ekphrastic Prose Club--Writing About Art". Locate a writing club.
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