Once upon a time, not so long ago, a little girl, wandering the woods behind her house, kept thinking about the old tales her grandmother always tells her in the cold winter days, in front of the fire and with a hot chocolate filled mug warming up their hands.
The tales about faeries and pixies and elves – “oh, what is the difference between them again? I must ask grandma to tell me those stories again. Wish they were real. I wonder if I could find one?” – she thought.
She went on walking to the small stream that managed to keep running all summer, in spite of the high temperatures and was now getting bigger and stronger by the day with the first Autumn rains.
Sitting by the stream she started to design a plan to find out if there was any truth about these tales.
Back home, the girl waited for everyone to fall asleep and went on to leave a mug of milk outside the back door. She truly hoped she remembered correctly and faeries do like milk, and that no stray cat or other animal would drink it.
She waited and waited and dozed off a few (well a lot) of times but she was brave and had promised herself she would stay awake all night if she had to. She remembered faeries loved to build gardens, or was it pixies that did – “oh my I really must pay better attention to what grown ups tell me from now on”- and so she decided to grab some beautiful pebbles she had pick up a few days earlier and let them by the milk – “maybe they’ll come now”
And, truth be told, it was a very much amazed young lady that watched, in absolute silent, not even breathing, a tiny creature fly out of the woods and up to the house and start looking at the tiny rocks.
She was in absolute silence not because she wanted to but because she couldn’t believe her eyes and couldn’t managed to say a word.
She saw the tiny beeing picking each pebble carefully and observing them from all sides and then, as quick as light she picked out two and flew away.
It took all the little girl strenght to get up from where she was sitting, not only amazed but trembling oh my, the excitment “they are real! real! or are they?, was I dreaming?, did this really happen?” She run to the door and as sure as I’m real the two most beautiful pebbles were missing.
She walked back in rushing with the mug of milk , as she heard her brother getting up and the day beggining at the house. “I must not tell anyone, I must find a way to meet them”
to be continued…
this was the story I’ve been told (I will tell more later, don’t worry) and Teagan was the little creature name, as I came to find out later.
I have made her true to the story, with all the details I can remember, including the dark blue eyes, pink hair and soft wings but, as you already know, the story doesn’t end here.