Flash fiction: Fairy Lights

“If you go to the woods tonight

When winds blow, and moon is bright,

You may see a bird that is not right

Perched upon an old rowan tree.

Fireflies and fairies, it will be,

A dancing, all merry and glee…”

“Stop, Enid, that’s a silly childish song to be a singing tonight.”

“Clara, it’s true I tell you. I’ve seen it.”

“You’re mocking me.”

“Come,” Enid did offer, “I will take you there.”

She took Clara’s hand and pulled her towards the dark woods.

At first Clara resisted, but then let herself be led.

Above them, the harvest moon drifted in and out of the clouds, colouring them silver.

Then beneath the trees, it was dim, but Enid led with sure foot. Under mighty oaks and past decaying trunks, they went, their feet stirring leaves, which rustled and crackled to the gentle rhythm of their stride. Deeper and deeper they went till ahead a faint light, like marsh gas aglow.

Clara tugged at Enid. “What’s that? I don’t like it.”

“That, you doubter, is what we came to find. Not a fairy ring but a fairy delight. See, they’re dancing in the moonlight.” She tugged. “Come, we should go closer.”

Clara resisted. “I’d rather not.”

“What are you afraid of? That they’ll cast a spell on you?”

“Yes.”

Enid laughed. “They’re like us.” She took a step and tugged Clara forward. “I’m going closer.”

“Oh, very well, then.”

Still holding hands, they approached the specks of light, a swarm of fireflies. Except the specks were fairies. They were dancing around a bird using intricate patterns that never seemed to repeat themselves.

How long they watched the frolicking, they didn’t know. All their attention was focused on the spectacle. It was as if they could read a story into the wild cavorting. A story of the elder races now banished from the world but given the night to return and remember when they did not have to keep hidden and confined.

The twirling grew wilder and wilder until…one of the fairies must have spotted them hiding in the shadows.

A ripple ran through the swarm, the dancing forgotten. They flew off in every direction.

“Oh!” Clara cried, “they’re going.”

“And so, must we,” Enid told her, “back home.”

They trudged through the woods, retracing their steps. The leaves didn’t rustle in the same way. Nor did the oaks seem as fine as before. The moon shone less bright.

By the time they’d got back to their burrow, the pale blue sky towards the east heralded the coming day and the rising sun.

Clara took one last look towards the forest. “I’ll miss them.”

“We must hide,” Enid urged, “the people mustn’t see us. They wouldn’t understand.”

She gently led Clara inside.