Once upon a time, there lived a fairy named Magda. Magda hated her life very much. So much so that she thought of ending it. She was tired of getting up every day. Her skin itched all the time. Her wings hurt.
Everything hurt actually, but her thin blue-and-red wings the most. The thought of flapping them ever again filled her with dread.
All Magda wanted to do was to crawl under the Earth’s crust, never to leave the dirt again. To sleep forever. Not to dream though. Never that.
Everything bored her. Dreams used to be an escape. Now, they were as dull and repetitive as the rest of her waking existence.
Every day, get up, fly into the forest, gather nectar and berries, and take them to the factory. Repeat. Over and over and over again.
Conversations were the same. So-and-so did such-and-such here and there. Repeat. And again and again and again.
The colors of their village used to seem so bright. They had dulled into an exhausting blandness. All the mushroom-shaped houses were made of clay and bark, and they all looked the same.
What was the point? Magda stared at her reddish-brown ceiling, tired at the thought of the approaching dawn.
None of this mattered.
She closed her eyes, only to open them when the hateful sun speared light through the crack between the curtains.
Magda got up. She flew into the forest on aching wings, filled her bags with berries, and then carried them to the factory.
“Mags, come see me,” said Lula, the factory forefairy, as Magda emptied her bags into the processing bins.
“Yes, Lula?”
“We’ve noticed you’ve had less sparkle in your wings lately.”
“We?”
“Everyone. Are you feeling well?”
Magda hesitated. Should she complain? What was the point? These were her feelings. Why bother anyone with her boredom? It would only bring unhappiness to the entire fairy village. Not to mention the fuss that would inevitably erupt.
No, feeling bored wasn’t a problem to tell.
“I’m fine.”
Lula furrowed his bushy brows.
“Really, I am. Just an off-sparkle day … few days.”
Magda clutched her bags and flew out the factory doors toward the forest once more.
Gather berries.
Take them to the factory.
Repeat.
Later that night, Magda tossed and turned. What had she done? Every time she had made a drop-off at the factory, Lula and the rest of her worker fairies had stared at her, whispering to each other behind her back.
This wouldn’t do. She hadn’t been convincing enough. Now, she was the so-and-so, doing such-and-such.
Magda couldn’t live with the boredom and their disdain too.
That’s it.
Tomorrow, she’d find a quiet spot in the forest to bury herself under the Earth’s skin and sleep forever.
The thought brought peace and calm and, best of all, sleep.
When the sun stabbed her with its rays, she smiled for the first time in years. She greeted the dawn by flinging open the windows and breathing in the dewy morning air.
Finally, she would be free.
As she rushed out the door, she bumped into Lula on her doorstep.
“Fair morning, Mags.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m flying with you to work today.”
“What?” Alarm crept into Magda’s voice. “Why? I have plans—”
“Let’s go,” he said. “Beautiful day, yes?”
Magda frowned but followed him anyway.
They spent the day together, gathering berries and some edible mushrooms and filling jugs with nectar.
Throughout, Lula prattled on, slowly trying to drag conversation from Magda. But like the fairies who harvested teeth, he learned it was easier to pull berries. Every once in a while, Magda mumbled a response, letting her glare do the talking.
He’s so annoying, Magda thought every time he told a joke. Irritation scratched at her boredom, chipping away at it bit by bit.
At the end of the day, she allowed herself a chuckle at a joke. But just one.
That night, she vowed to leave at dawn to bury herself in the forest at last. Most likely by the old tree that had fallen two years ago and lay half in and half out of the lake. Thoughts of death brought the sweetest dreams.
The next day, Lula showed up again, earlier than ever.
The following day, Oola darkened her door.
Then Flore, Bic, Soo, Felette, and then Lula again, and so on and so on. They talked to her. They tried to make her laugh. They let her know that they loved her so very much. The daily visits lasted all day and sometimes into the night. At times, they made her so angry, so much so that she yelled at Lula a few times. And Bic. Well, maybe more than a few times.
The fuss was so just annoying, like all fusses were, but … each day, each week, each month, she felt less bored and more … well, she couldn’t really say.
The red and oranges and blues of the fairy village sparkled a little bit here and there and then everywhere.
Magda flung open her bedroom curtains and greeted the dawn with a smile. She was happy to see it today and looked forward to seeing it tomorrow as well.
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stacy benedict 