Glitter & Bells
Boys were stupid. They were fine as children, but they made terrible adults.
They called them “lost” but she found them all - each rough and tumble Jack, every clumsy and carefree Billy. She took them away from the world that would turn them into suit-and-tie soldiers. She kept them safe.
All with a touch of glitter and the promise of never.
Never would they need to grow up. Never would they have to worry about the cares of a dark, war-torn world. Never would they ever have to leave her, her little band of misfits.
No one ever missed them. There were plenty boys to go around, and unlike good little girls who could be tamed and trained they rebelled - finding mud piles, bugs, and trouble. Society tied up its girls in ribbons, but left its boys to fight. All the better to use them later on in life; she’d seen the horrors, heard the bombs.
Not her boys. At most they would fight pirates, or monsters of their own imagination. They would fly, not fall. She would take that energy and set it free.
Then that girl mucked it up. Wendy. Ooooooooooh, she hated the name. All responsibility and mothering. Boys didn’t need mothers - no one did. How dare she act like she could give these boys something better than pixie dust and play?
It was one of those fits - those tantrums - that had distracted her when she caught her tiny shoe in a window casement. With a wrench her ankle had twisted and the pain shot through her little leg. Panic set in next, as she realized she couldn’t escape with one foot caught in the wood. Tugging harder and harder, the tears falling down her glowing face, she heard the shuffle of footsteps too late. In an instant, the mini giant’s face had found her twinkling form.
“Oh goodness! A fairy!” It was a girl. She hadn’t been looking for one, she had thought this room belonged to a little boy instead. At young ages it was hard to tell through a dark window. She froze in fear, wondering what would happen next.
“Are you caught?” The little one looked at her in wonder, and she could only fold her arms and feign indifference. She refused to ask for help. “Oh dear, that looks painful. Here, hold on.”
The thud of footsteps, then the small child returned with an equally small needle. “I’ll try to be gentle, but this might hurt a bit.” Sliding the needle into the wood, she wiggled and jiggled and with a pop the pixie came free. “There you are! Can you fly still?” She marveled at the little wings, her eyes reflecting the glow more than the window glass.
Gingerly moving her foot, she admitted the girl had saved her. With a jingle she nodded, her wings flitting her up. The window remained ajar, just enough space for her to squeeze out. She headed for it.
“Wait! Are you going back to the fairy world?” The little girl stood up straight and clasped her hands together, the needle still wedged into the wooden sill. “I made gifts for the fairies - could you take them?”
Gifts? Curiosity gave her pause. The boys never gave her anything...
More footsteps thudded away and back, as the little girl brought over a tiny wooden box. “I made these myself - they’re not great, but I like to practice.” She opened the lid, and the pixie found herself drawn to gaze inside.
The box held an assortment of tiny, miniscule dresses and crowns, all woven out of field flowers and scraps of cloth. The designs weren’t anything clever, just simple shifts. The flowers had wilted slightly, but still held their color. Without thinking, she reached down and picked up a small daisy chain, slipping it over her hair bun. It fell and slid down around her neck, making a big necklace rather than a crown.
“Ooh, that looks lovely on you!” The little girl gushed, her hands fisted under chubby cheeks as she gazed on. “Do you like it?”
The pixie scoffed, but the necklace remained.
“Here - I’ll bundle them up for you.” Taking a small handkerchief, she gently moved all the items from the box into the soft folds. Then she used a tiny ribbon to wrap it up tightly. “There you go! Oh, I’m so glad I got to give them to you.” She smiled and the pixie startled, the rows of teeth scaring her for a moment. “Everyone told me I was mad for making them, but I always said that fairies were real. I’m ever so happy!” Her hands came together in a clap - and a curious thing happened.
Her glow suddenly grew from a glimmer to a burst of bright light, as power flowed through her tiny body. The pain in her ankle all but disappeared, and she felt such a curious energy suddenly tingle from the top of her head down to her fingertips. Stunned, she fell to the windowsill on her butt, her legs splayed out in front of her.
“Are you alright?” The little girl’s smile quickly flipped upside down. “I’m sorry, I clapped too loudly, didn’t I?”
Standing and brushing the pixie dust off her dress, she waved the girl away. Whatever that had been, she seemed unharmed. It was time to get back. Hefting the small bundle of gifts, she attempted to exit out the window - only to have her luggage get jammed in the opening.
“Let me get that for you,” the little girl offered, widening the window so the bundle could fit. With a jingle, the pixie saluted her, and then quickly disappeared into the night sky, the smoke from the chimneys causing her to cough in little bell sounds that made the girl giggle as she flew out of sight.
Looking down, she pondered thoughtfully for a moment. Then, resolved, headed for the second star to the right.
Boys were stupid. They were fine as children, but they made terrible adults.
Smart, gentle, giving little girls like that one were far better off without them.
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Tinkerbell’s mind is a crazy machine at the best
And her head sets aflame all the things that her body loves the best
She’s constantly at play
Somebody oughta come real soon and take that girl away
The Glitterhouse - “Tinkerbell’s Mind”
- Background Note: I've always hated Tinkerbell, but my partner loves her. This was the first song we listened to together on our first date, when I had to admit I knew nothing about psych/progressive rock from the 60's. It's inspired this post now a decade later. Maybe Tink's not so bad.