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Published: February 25th 2007
Shalom, the celebrity goat
The other goats were all a bit jealous with Shalom, since rumours said he'd been on Broadway with Andrew Lloyd Webber doing the Goat King, and The Goat at the Opera. Outside, the sun was baking.
Two boys stood talking to a young woman in the doorway of a large shed. They stood holding blueprints and scale-rulers and were talking about things the fairy didn’t understand. As they saw her they stopped discussing and the young woman said:
“Hi. You must be the fairy that
Buffy told me would arrive one day.” She said.
“The fairy that wants to fix her broken wings.”
“That would be me.” The fairy answered with a sigh.
“Maybe we can help you, then.” The young woman said and brushed a plait of brown curly hair, away from her face.
“Excuse me for not introducing us. I’m
Daya, and these guys are the royal engineers;
Wanga and
Aviwe. They can construct or repair anything. But watch it, last week they rebuilt my bicycle into a videogame. That is what we’re arguing about right now.”
The two boys gave the fairy a guilty smile.
“What do you say guys, do you want to give it a try?” She turned to the boys who nodded in response and started to discuss how to solve the problem.
“If you’re lucky, they will have solved this by tomorrow.”
Illiona with the book of Wisdom
The helpful daughter of King Proteus and Sophie, was deeply observing and reflecting every single letter, in the book of wisdom. Daya said.
“Oh, that’s very kind of you.” The fairy said, and then asked:
“Would you perhaps know where the garden is?”
“Down at the entrance of the farm,” Aviwe answered.
“Yes, it’s on the right hand side,” Wanga explained.
The fairy thanked them and started walking towards the garden.
As she passed the old bridge, she noticed that the
unnamed woman was no longer there, so she continued all the way down to the entrance of the farm where she found a small gate made of twigs. Above the gate hung a dreamcatcher and she could see a neat little footpath twisting and turning up the steep hill, from the gate.
When the fairy was about to open the twig-gate, she saw a girl reading a book on the doorstep of the neighbouring house. As the fairy cast her a glance, she looked up from her book and smiled.
“Hi!”
“Hi.” The fairy answered.
“What are you reading?”
“Nothing special, it’s just the book of wisdom.” The girl said and held up the book for the fairy to behold its cover.
“Oh, that sounds quite comprehensive. What sort of wisdom are you reading about right
Mutual benefits
Ok! You scratch my back, and I let you eat everything you might find. Deal? now, then?” The fairy asked the girl and noticed that
Storm was resting by her side.
“At the moment I’m reading a chapter about travelling.” She answered.
The fairy got curious.
“Could you read me a line or two then?”
“Why not?” The girl answered then looked at the book again and ran her finger down the page until she found the place where she had finished reading.
She cleared her throat and began.
“See the world. It’s more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories. Ask for no guarantees, and no security, since precautions and foregone conclusions will only keep you a prisoner, and travelling should always be done emancipated.”
“Oh, I always prefer to plan a bit ahead when I travel.” The fairy said a bit confused.
“Well, what I just read was taken out of concept; it makes sense if you read the whole book. I can give it to you when I’m done reading.” She told the fairy.
“If you’re looking for the Herbalist - our
Hippocrates - you shouldn’t go into the garden, I saw him just now behind my house.” She said and pointed to the house behind her.
“I
Dear Datura Stramonium
The Common Thorn Apple is a famous poisonous flower. Most people that eat it go mad. The few that don't, obviously go somewhere else... thought his name was
Glen?”
“Yes, that’s what he prefers to be called, but who told you that?” The girl asked.
“Buffy the
Visionary.”
“Buffy the
what?” The girl exclaimed.
“To us here at the farm he’s better known as Buffy the
Pirate.” The girl paused briefly, and then continued again.
“The legend goes that he was the first-mate of
Bartholomew Roberts - or
Black Bart - as he was better known as back then. Apparently he scuttled one ship too many and was marooned on a rocky island outside
Cape Lopez. Coincidentally, that was a very good day to be marooned, since on the same night Black Bart was captured and shot in the throat, and his fellow pirates all went to the gallows.
Luckily for the scurvy Buffy, the island turned out to be a peninsula, so he walked inland until he found a voodoo priest with whom he staid for a couple of years, learning dark magic and mastering the art of aging. You must admit that he doesn’t look that bad for being more than 300 years old.
That’s what the legend says, anyway.” She gave the fairy a
Mona Lisa smile.
“Wow, he didn’t
Glen - Hippocrates - the Herbalist
Few were the herbs, he didn't know about. Some people even believed that he might have been an indigenous plant himself... What people knew for sure though was that he was one hell of a good Opera singer. tell me that.” The fairy answered surprised.
“No, of course not. You see, here at the farm everyone’s got at least two names, and most probably even more personalities, keep that in mind when you’re here!”
The fairy thanked for the advice then walked past the girl, to the backside of her house, where she (just like the girl had said) found a man cutting off leaves from a big
Aloe Ferox. In his steadfast hand he held a nicely decorated knife, with which he swiftly uncovered the glistening, translucent gel that made up the fleshy inner sections of the leaves.
“Put this on your back where your wings were cut off.” He told her without even looking in her direction.
“I’m going to cut you some
Wild Wormwood too, which will also ease the pain from your lost wings.”
The fairy gave him a puzzled look.
“Are you Glen, the herbalist?” She asked.
“Mmm, I believe so. Take these.” He gave her the leaves.
“Have someone rub it on the stumps of your wings; the Wormwood you should drink as a tea-infusion. As you understand, I’ve already heard about your problem and I do know about your task.”
Honey Tunes
Straight from the Apiary: A typical Langstroth frame. Now emptied from Honey and remaining pollen, this one was once filled by a whole honeycomb, entirely collected from Amaryllis Belladona. Very popular among famous cartoon bears. He now looked at her, and then pointed with his full arm up the hill.
“That is
Honey Hill. Up there at the top, behind the unnamed woman’s house, you’ll find the bee-hives. Don’t you worry about the bees not being clever enough. The humble honey-bees possess the second-most complex language after humans. Just figure out a way to translate whatever you want to say, and those buzzing prodigies will surely understand you. If you go now you might catch them on their lunch-break. We’ll have time to speak later.” He was almost commanding.
“I better be off then. Thanks Glen.” She said and put the leaves inside the magical bag and strolled up the hill.
In the grass, bushes and trees, surrounding the five bee-hives, hung an almost confusingly sweet smell of honey.
The fairy sat down on a tuft of soft grass that made a corner in an imaginary triangle with the five hives. She sat listening to the suave buzzing for some time, the vibrant soothing singing of the bees. She knew very well what she would do; she would plea to the bees with the tones of her flute. She picked it out of her
Amaryllis Belladonna
The rare flower only blooms for a few days every year, and most years it doesn't bloom at all. The nectar contains an unique equilibrium-elixir, but the elixir loses its power if collected in direct sunlight. That's why it's of extreme importance to collect the nectar only after midnight. bag and started to blow it gently.
It was like time fell asleep in the afternoon sunshine, it was as if the whole world turned mute but at the same time, everything in the world was nothing but sound.
In long bee-lines they came out from the hives and started to spin around her in a whirlwind, gently rocking to a mute rhythm.
Not only could the fairy communicate with the bees, as she gave sound to the flute, she also revealed everything about herself to the bees. Their bond was telepathic and the bees could sense that the fairy’s intentions were good. If there’s anyone that can understand the loss of ones wings, it’s another winged being. Now she had 30 000 winged beings listening to her story.
They felt her sorrow and promised to have the honey ready for her the following morning, using only the best nectar they could find: namely, that of the
Amaryllis Belladonna, collected only after midnight, in order to keep as much of its magical qualities intact as possible.
The fairy played for hours and only as the sun was setting did she get hungry, and stopped. By this
From the outside, looking in.
The young man's tent in the garden. It might look small, but it was big enough to lose a lot of things inside. time all the animals on Honey Hill were dancing around the five bee-hives.
She kindly thanked the bees and walked down to the garden in hope of finding Glen somewhere, for some more advice.
She searched the whole garden but couldn’t find him. As she was leaving the garden, she passed the stone fish’s pond. The frogs told her that, before leaving she should also check the blue tent at the very top of the garden, since they’d seen someone inside. They weren’t sure if it was Glen, but it was a man and he looked like he could be a Glen. So she decided to go back and have a look for herself. This time she noticed a feeble light glowing from within the tent.
“Glen?” She called out.
No answer.
“Glen, are you in the tent?” She heard movement from inside the tent, and then someone opening the zipper of the door. A young man looked out.
He had brown eyes and long blond hair that he tied back haphazardly in a ponytail. He wore a green hood with the symbol of
Loki - the three winged shoes - printed at the front. The
The Herbal Garden
At the very top of the garden was a small herbal garden. There were plants and bushes that could heal every ailment. But the knowledge of the herbalist was needed to find out which plant was for which sickness. fairy thought he looked very familiar. Very familiar.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was looking for Glen.” The fairy said.
“I know.” He answered.
“What? How can you know that?” She asked.
“Well, first of all; you called his name outside my tent twice and second; I know since…I’m writing you.”
The young man answered and the fairy noticed a ballpoint pen in his left hand.
“Writing me? You must be kidding! What do you mean:
Writing you?” She asked, and gave him a suspicious look.
“Everything.”
“What do you mean:
Everything?”
“This whole story. You, your wings, the Devil, the Farm and so on.”
“So, it’s not for real?” She felt distressed.
“Of course it is. Don’t worry about reality. It’s something most people will never grasp anyway, something they will spend their lives avoiding and escaping. So, don’t you worry about being real. You’re just as real as anything else in this world.” He said reassuringly.
“So it is over now, or what will happen?” She asked.
“Of course not.” He tried to sound comforting again.
“So what will happen now?” She asked.
“So far, you’re doing quite well. I honestly don’t know how it will
From the inside, looking out.
As the fairy woke up, the tent was like an old Scandinavian sauna - bloody hot. She hurried out, not to get steam boiled. end, but I guess we’ll both eventually find out.”
He said and pointed on the blue tent behind him.
“The tent is big enough for five people. You’re more than welcome to stay here while I continue to write. I’ve just bought some food which we can share. I believe you’re hungry.” He smiled and let her into the tent.
Inside the tent it was warm. A small candle shed light on the chaotic interior of the tent. Spread out over the big bed was a bundle of scribbled papers, pens and a half-eaten focaccia bread some fruit and chips.
“Tonight is the full moon.” He said while she was busy munching on the focaccia.
“It’s said, this is the only time when the stone fish comes to life. I suggest you go down to the pond tonight and talk to her, otherwise you’d have to wait for a whole month more.”
The fairy listened and told herself with strong determination that she wouldn’t fall asleep. But, after the young man had helped her apply the aloe gel onto the stump of her wings and he was busy writing again, she slowly fell asleep while listening to
A tail-less Jumper
They hung out around the small pond in the garden, but their relationship to the stone fish was frosty, since they used her back as breeding ground. the hushed sound of his pen dancing over paper.
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kjell asberg
non-member comment
A&B ar bast
Fick din blogg ngr. timmar innan vi åker tillbaka til Sverige,man blir stolt över er, och erat arbete på farmen, din trägårdsstig skulle göra farmor hänförd Aili! alla är bra fast ni är bäst!