There was Dusk #2: Ribbons and Decay

There was dusk. But, not the type that was scary or angry or made me jump up and down until someone switched the lights on. Nah, this dusk was like rainbow ice-cream: the am-al-gal-na-ti-on of human things and nature things. Norma taught me all about it. She said that it is what she is looking for. She said everyone can see it, but, nobody knows that its dusk. That’s a super special secret. You can’t tell anybody not ever. She said so. 

The other people don’t like it because it doesn’t like to share. It is made up of sharing. Between the plants and the glass, the concrete and the creepers, the water the metal, the city and the wildness. 

Dusk is where the fairies live. I like fairies but I don’t know if they like me. I never see them so I don’t know. But Norma said she can. She says that they love to play and teach the other things to do the same. In a ring-a-ring-a-rosy they wring water onto the shiny silver surfaces and then it shares making colours as big as a sunrise. It’s called rust. She told me that too. I can’t touch it though. If I do the shaky magic will go SNAP and crumble like a cookie. I like to play near it sometimes. 

Sometimes I know the fairies are watching me. I don’t tell them: they are too shy and so am I. But I see them: their wings poke out from the piles of junk pretending to be glass, standing like a statue so no-one sees them. Sometimes, when I am a lion, I talk to the rust. It doesn’t talk back but I don’t mind. I know they’re listening. Norma said so. 

See, I am the guardian of the dusk. That means like their mum and dad. I have to protect the fairies and make sure they’re not lonely. There used to be a lot more guardians and protectors like Norma and me. But now they are all grown up up up: way too high for them to see the fairies back down on the ground. 

See, fairies don’t really fly a lot. They are just way too shy. But that’s okay cos I don’t like flying either. But I love the ground though. There are just so many types but only one sky. Grass, concrete, footpath, road, wood chips, playground, school, tennis court, tiles and blanket floor. Every time I see a new one I take it down. It is my other role as a guardian of the dusk. To make sure all the grounds in the world are found and written down so I know which one is the best. The fairies look after my journal of grounds for me and listen to me read it. They are very good listeners. And so am I. To them. 

 Sometimes, they speak to me too. Whispers in my ear like a sea shell. Its not people words. But I know. They talk about their old life. When they were all brand new. You are like us. Hair and leaves. Wind and face. Person and animal. Dusk. Norma doesn’t know but I might tell her later. Later is not now though. Now I am keeping guard over the corners and cobwebs and grounds and rust and creepers in pipes and little beetles sleeping in bottles of the entire long tall world. There is dusk as long as that is is here. Don’t forget, I said so.