Tale 46- The Cupboard-Dwelling Fairy

 The Traveler decided to leave the city, wandering down a path away. The landscape once more shifted around her, back to the familiar snowy pine trees and small villages she was so familiar with. She’d managed to go in a circle- but this didn’t surprise her, considering she was directionless in her pursuit for 100 tales. She still needed 55…she sighed. The days were becoming tiresome. Simply search for a tale and flee before anyone might learn too much about her. She found herself unsure of how long this had gone on, and how much longer it might. The girl felt as if she was stuck at one point, suffering as the world moved on around her and left her to crumble. A giggle snapped her out of her thoughts, her gaze resting on a small girl playing fetch with her dog. She threw a stick in the Traveler’s direction, the dog immediately rushing to get it but stopping when it noticed the stranger. The little girl approached, unsure what was wrong, before shyly greeting the Traveler, who sat on a rock. She was almost the same height as the child now, who smiled at her. Around the Traveler’s head a little pink butterfly fluttered, before resting on her hand. “That reminds me of the fairy in my house.” the child suddenly spoke, the Traveler raising her eyes slightly. Of course, a story to be transcribed and safely kept. She sighed, already prepared to write the tale of ‘The Cupboard-Dwelling Fairy.’

‘In a small house, there lives a young girl, who is often tasked with helping her mother clean the kitchen. Every time, however, there is always something in disarray, something that has changed since the last time. The little girl knows a special secret, that a fairy comes and hides in the cupboards at night, sleeping inside a cup and leaving little treasures behind as gifts for the family who take care of her, like shiny beads or little gemstones. Though neither of the girl’s parents know where the little trinkets come from, they simply believe they’re meaningless pieces of junk, but the little girl knows that if she collects fifty, she’ll be granted a wish, and wants to wish to be a fairy too.’

The Traveler illustrated the little girl as a fairy, her eyes once more drooping from tiredness. The child gave a bright smile, before picking up the stick and throwing it in the opposite direction, running home with her dog and soon forgetting all about the strange girl she’d met. The Traveler, however, was buried in memories. As snow began falling around her, she stared down at the butterfly on her hand. The colour reminded her of that nightmare, of the dress…and of his eyes, wild and devious, yet still always formulating a plan, a plan he would enact on his precious little doll... As her mind retreated back to that night terror and the events that preceded it, the Traveler felt a new, even stronger wave of pain pass over her. A sob clogged her throat, the girl feeling the urge to run, to flee, and soon she was tearing through the trees, tears spilling down her face and wincing. She ran until her legs could no longer carry her, until her entire body was trembling and starvation began to take a hold. The cloaked girl turned…which way had she come from? She was lost, the snow falling faster and harder and turning her hands blue. She sobbed, feeling her heart growing heavy. How long could she last, before her existence withered and her mind fractured? How many more of those awful touches could she take? Was she forever condemned to the fate of being someone else’s plaything? She was just a little girl…one who was finally giving up on the fate that life had laid out for her. The Traveler collapsed against a tree, her vision going blurry and her mind slowing down, before suddenly hearing something nearby, someone softly singing. There’s a song that every child who has ever walked this earth knows, one which survived every harsh winter and raging storm. Every parent has sung it to their child, every child has learned it, and will pass it down for generation upon generation. A song from the years of loo-lie, lai-lay… and as the Traveler’s mother sang to her three year old daughter, the Traveler slipped into sleep, the wind whistling through her broken form and the cold biting at her, allowing the frozen child to die at last.

Someone stepped through the forest, noticing the familiar black cloak. “Found you…”