"A young faerie, barely of age to walk, dreamt loud enough for the whole world to hear.
He had ambitions at his age, and many of the elders sought to demolish them before they ruined the boy or the others around him.
Faerie children are allowed to dream, and give in to curiosity, if deemed nonviolent or scholarly
This boy grew up with elders who doubted him, constantly trying to discourage him from his dreams. Eventually, he learned to take their comments as a challenge, using them to fuel his ambitions one insult after the next.
One day, a young faerie man thought he could touch the sun.
When he got to close, his feathery wings melted,
And he came crashing back down to earth.
The elders and his mother scream at the sight of a faerie without wings.
A punishment worthy of those who disobey the gods."
"What happened next?" The child pressed, tugging into my sleeve as we rock back and fourth in a rocking chair.
"He lived. Barely, but he came to a realization that a faerie is not remembered by how he lived, but how he dies."
"Does he still live today?" She asks, with a converned face, clutching onto my chest.
"Yes." I respond shortly, smiling at her, then reaching to touch the stumped bases of my melted wings. "It was me."
YOU ARE READING
EndRep's Short Stories
Historia CortaThe lovely, exciting, short stories yours truly has come up with, I'll most likely update this more than any of my other works, since I will be using this as a way to reduce writer's block and also when I just get some random ideas, May consist of...
