I’ve written and self-published a book called This Little Light of Mine (which will be available soon, all being well). In the publishing world it fits the ‘young adult’ category, although I’m not comfortable with labelling it anything if I’m honest (personally, I don’t think anything creative should have to fit a category). Stella is the main character and she has a best friend who happens to be a faery named Astrid. The piece below isn’t in the book, but it explains where both Stella and Astrid come from. When I wrote it I wasn’t actually thinking about Stella at all, I was thinking much, much closer to home.
To unsuspecting eyes, it seemed like an ordinary day that day. For eyes that see, see deep into souls, there are no ordinary days. There is no ordinary. There are only miracles.
The woman with the entire planet reflected in her eyes, the Mother of the Earth, the woman called Pangea, watched carefully as the star she had just selected began to pulse and vibrate wildly. She had chosen this star with great deliberation, keenly aware of the importance of getting it right. A child was preparing to be born on her Earth, and the child was relying on Pangea to select the star intended for her, just as she was intended for the star.
With great responsibility comes great satisfaction, and Pangea was satisfied she had chosen correctly. This star was the one. Up close, it emitted light so pure it was purple. It hummed with the songs of a thousand voices in perfect harmony. The song was for the human child about to take the first breath of her new life. The song sang her name; the song sang for her soul. Pangea had cupped her hands around this star and blown a puff of air through them once to bring it to life, to cause it to wake up, and woken up it had. It was time.
Pangea waited only a short while before the star exploded silently in a shower of tiny, illuminated fragments. She caught the largest of these fragments, a vivid, metallic purple, in the palm of her hand. She uncurled her long, delicate fingers and saw a tiny body lying across the deepest crease in her palm. Its skin had a slight hue of lilac, hair cropped and blonde. Its eyelids were shut with miniscule glittering stars at the ends of the eyelashes. With the most delicate of touches, Pangea skimmed a finger over the body, a girl, and the girl’s eyes opened, large and vivid green. She looked at Pangea and recognised her at once. She felt safe. She pulled her shoulders back and two glimmering gossamer wings erupted from her shoulder blades, the colour matching the deep metallic purple of the starlight she had just been born from. She stretched her wings out to the corners of the universe, not a girl at all, but something else entirely, and then shook them softly, drops of dew showering Pangea’s hand. Pangea began to whisper to the faery. She whispered secrets only nature spirits can know, and she breathed a new purpose into the faery’s soul, a purpose that would be shared with the human child soon. After they had spoken, Pangea lifted her hand, and with a slight flourish the faery took flight and began her journey to Earth, to her human child.
And so, this ordinary day was not so ordinary for the human child taking her first breath in her new body. Her eyes, still brand new, could not see clearly. Her ears, still so fresh, could hear no better. But she saw her nature spirit in vivid detail and she heard her perfectly as the faery alighted on her shoulder, untouched as yet by human hands. The faery whispered directly into the human child’s ear:
“I am Astrid. I am born from the breath of Mother Earth; born from a star that sang your name. You have been reborn for me, and I have been reborn for you. I will love you, protect you, guide you, and learn from you. Our souls are joined as one. And so it is.”
The human child listened and let the faery speak. As she opened her mouth and screamed the scream of a brand new child in a cold and brightly lit world, she grasped her nature spirit tightly and knew she would always be loved, always be safe, always be looked after. She gripped the faery with as much intensity as she could muster, and Astrid curled up, content, in the palm of her hand. A new home for a faery who needed a girl, a girl who needed a faery.