The continuation of my short story. Please read Part 1, published on Wednesday first.
It was Titania.
Carefully picking her up I noticed one wing was twisted and lying brokenly at her side. Suddenly I remembered Gloria’s parting comment and was sure that the ‘bug’ her evil sidekick had caught was my beautiful fairy.
For a moment a red rage overtook me, but then the practicalities of caring for a fairy with a broken wing set in. I couldn’t take her to a Doctor or a vet, so I gently carried her indoors and made a tiny bed using a cardboard box and some tissues as blankets.
Although I felt stupid I went onto my laptop and looked up ‘How to mend a broken fairy’s wing.’ Not surprisingly the only answers were about dressing up costumes, but I did find something about broken wings on birds which seemed close enough. Tearing up tiny strips of bandage I approached Titania with the idea of strapping her broken wing against her body to give it a chance to rest and heal.
Carefully picking her up I heard a tiny voice saying ‘Thank you.’ I had forgotten that she could speak. Was I really losing it? Should I be phoning for the men in white coats to come and get me? Instead I answered her as quietly as I could. “I’m going to try to wrap your wing. Tell me if I hurt you.” She seemed to understand me as she turned onto her good side and very carefully I wrapped the bandage securing it under her good wing.
“Are you hungry? I’ve no idea what fairies eat or drink.”
“We can go without eating but some nectar would help me to heal. Some water or milk would be good too.”
“Would honey be OK?”
“That would be lovely, thank you.”
I knew I had some pure honey in the kitchen and hurried off to get it. As I took the jar out of the cupboard I realised how small she was, and looked around for a suitable dish to serve it in. Finally I picked up two teaspoons, and filling one with honey and the other with milk carried them carefully back to where I had left her.
She sipped at the food and drink then settled back into her bed, and I saw her eyes close as she went off to sleep. This was getting really weird, but I decided to leave the spoons close by so she could have some more later if she wanted them.
She stayed with me for two weeks, and I got used to hearing her diminutive voice telling me all about the world she lived in. Several times I changed the bandage until one day she flapped her wings and then flew around the kitchen, perfectly healed. That evening I opened the back door and she blew me a kiss before returning to her own home.
After that I went back to my old routine of going down the garden every night at dusk to visit my fairy friends. They were no longer afraid of me and now appeared as soon as I arrived. I think Titania must have told them I could be trusted, and I got to know and talk to them all.
This all happened many years ago but I still live in the same cottage. I’m old now and have to use a walking frame to get to the bottom of the garden. I can no longer keep the garden tidy and the weeds and nature have started to take over. Soon it will be as it was when I first saw it.
One day I inadvertently let slip to my carer why I was so insistent on going outside, even though it was cold and nearly dark. I still had all my faculties, and being able to read upside down when she wrote her report, saw her comment about the onset of mild dementia.
She obviously didn’t believe in fairies but I knew better.
I’ll leave it to you to judge.
Is this the ramblings of a senile old woman or a true story?
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