A Tale of Fairies And Fire.

~~

Prologue

     O nce upon a time, quite some time ago, there lived a happy family in a small, quaint village. The family lived peacefully and in the most carefree sense. They had a beautiful home on the coast, with the forest at their backs. They had the whole world in their small corner of the universe. Nothing could destroy the tranquility that enveloped every moment of their lives.

And yet, with every tick of the clock, with every happy minute, a shadow loomed over it all. A shadow, whose claws gripped ever tighter with every passing moment. You see, the happy family did their very best to believe that they would be happy forever, and yet, they knew it wouldn't last. For one of them had a peculiar curse. Years before, one of the spiteful fairies that lived in the forest had appeared, and cursed a timid young woman to exile, on one condition: the curse wouldn't take effect until the moment she realised how she had everything that the fairies could not. 

And so, she vowed to always remember how everything wasn't perfect. Even as she got married to the love of her life, even as her children were born, she always remembered the darkness of her past, and how no matter how hard she tried, there would always be sadness in her life. Despite her best efforts, she had five perfect years with her family. Until one day, it all came crashing down. She finally realised and embraced the joy in her life, and within the day, she found her entire life turned upside down. Torn from her love, her children, and her perfect home, she was left in solitude, in a small, simple cottage nestled deep in the forest surrounding her village. Close enough to know her old life was out there, but much too far to ever hope to go back to it. Thus began the new life for the young mother, alone in her cottage in the forest. And that is where she stayed, until one day. . .

***

Ten years later

     T he peaceful ambiance of the forest waking up surrounds the cottage. Soft morning light filters through my curtains. Birds chirp to one another, the sounds of a woodpecker as he searches for breakfast echoing through the trees. The gentle roar of the nearby waterfall awakens the strong desire to wander to the river and bask in the early summer sunlight. I sigh and flip the switch on my kettle, mentally planning how to spend the first gorgeous day of the year. I find my spirits lifting with every minute the sun rises in the sky. The world is awaking anew.  

I hum as I go about the house, getting dressed and making a light breakfast. I set about finding a basket to carry some items to the river, my book balanced on top. The river is about as far away from my secluded cottage as I can travel before I end up back home again. A few times I've gotten close to the limits, and immediately been so overcome with vertigo that I had to sit down. The irrational panic that wells up inside me every time I push it too much is horrible, this nauseating feeling until I can't see straight. Once, and only once, I went too far. It was just after I'd been ripped away from my family, and although I knew my restrictions, I'd thought I could dash back to my old home, even catch a glimpse of them from the edge of the woods. Desperate to see my husband and children again, I'd pushed through the dizziness and overwhelming sickness for acres, before the pain set in. I hadn't even made it to the clearing separating the wood from the beautiful home before I'd passed out. The next day, I found myself back in my cottage, horribly sick and weak. It was a nausea I hadn't felt since pregnancy, but multiplied a hundredfold. Since then, I had never tried to escape. I craved the comfort of our family home on the coast. I longed everyday to see my children, who would be fifteen now. More than anything, I wished to see my husband again. Had he remarried? Had he ever tried to come to me, as I'd tried to go to him? What had he told our children about my disappearance? Did he still roll over and stretch his arm out to the other side of the bed, expecting me to be there?