Fairy Godmothers of The Four Directions

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Fairy Godmothers of The Four Directions Page 12

by Jennifer Morse


  Wiping her face on her shirt she said, “You are so sweet.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Fairy Godmother of the East

  Laughing Cinderella lay back. Blackie rolled on top of her, only to jump to his feet. Barking he nudged her with his nose. She asked, “Did the Fairy Godmother of the West take good care of you?”

  He bounced and twirled. Barking, nudging her, taking her hand in his soft mouth, he squeezed. Reorganizing her pack, leaving the troll cookies, Blackie still circling and bumping; he pushed Cinderella out of the burl. She tumbled into the woods. There was no sign of the troll.

  They stopped at a creek where they drank spring fed water. Cinderella was enjoying the warmth of the sun on her skin, when something shifted. The day darkened carrying a wash of putrid smells. “Argh. There’s that stink again!”

  Looking up the sky was free of clouds. She looked at Blackie. He barked; three short, clipped snaps. The air felt different. “Grainy?”

  “Is it my imagination?” Looking at Blackie she queried. “Did the day turn ominous?”

  Blackie barked and nudged. Cinderella followed, checking her compass. They were going east. And Blackie seemed to know the trail.

  Forest fell away replaced by grasses. Dirt drifted in the air. Despite occasional swampy ponds the air was dry. The environment was brittle. The flat horizon extended beyond Cinderella’s line of sight. She saw birds with bright yellow heads but heard no bird song. Animals scurried away. None were curious about Blackie or Cinderella. It seemed like a grainy dark curtain had dropped over the land. “Strange,” Cinderella murmured.

  The only animals paying attention to them were the mosquitoes and the occasional deer fly. She hooked her staff through the loops of her pack so it lay over her shoulders leaving her hands free to brush away annoying bugs.

  Blackie trotted further east and waited. He wanted to get out of here as badly as she did. The land felt…. “toxic.”

  But what had polluted it? Cinderella hurried to catch-up with Blackie slapping at mosquitoes and deer flies, which seemed to be increasing in numbers.

  She felt she had only a glimpse of the North. Too soon she was facing new challenges, new dangers. Pulling her pack off her shoulder it dangled over her arm. She opened the top and pulled out the canvas bag of cookies. Calling Blackie, handing him a cookie, she said, “I never get tired of the Fairy Godmother’s cookies.” After chewing thoughtfully she added, “Baking is a strange talent for a West teacher…”

  Blackie barked. Cinderella threw him another cookie. He jumped in the air and came down chewing. “So good Blackie!”

  They shared cookies but Blackie prodded her forward. He continually ran ahead. When walking at her side, he looked back. Cinderella understood. She couldn’t shake the feeling they were being hunted. “Could I be kidnapped on a quest? Am I getting paranoid?”

  Wouldn’t the Fairy Godmothers protect her? Could they protect her? Walking east across the dusty, high-altitude plain, shimmering ponds in the distance, rocks the size of furniture, choppy grasses; Cinderella felt they walked a desolate moonscape. And something smelled bad. It was hard to describe. Rotten sludge? Sulfur? Cinderella shivered deciding it was best to ignore a stench too hard to describe.

  “What will the East teach me? East; sunrise and where each new day begins. East: A land of perpetual dawn, new beginnings, a lightness of spirit that cannot be contained?”

  Unbelievably Cinderella felt the shift in her body. The East was already finding a home. Her first impression? She felt like they were doing things backwards. She looked at Blackie. “In the East do they go backwards to end up forward?”

  That made no sense what-so-ever. “Is the East a comedy of errors? Does one disaster after another lead to the unexpected but perfect outcome? There is the smell again!”

  Her shoulders rode up her neck. Her body felt listless, heavy and tired. Instead of new she felt old. A tickle at the back of her throat scratched. Blackie nudged her. She wailed, “I’m unprepared! I’ve only begun to understand dreaming and coping with life. I’m not ready for something new! And the East is all about the new…”

  One reluctant foot in front of another Cinderella slapped at mosquitoes buzzing her ears and waved away another deer fly. They had stopped to take off her tights but now the angry insects were chewing her alive. Angry buzzing broke her concentration. When she looked up she saw a storm of deer flies descending. Their terrible buzzing encapsulated her. They flew in her eyes and ears, up her nose. She was bombarded by tiny black missiles. The day had gone black at the center of the swarm. She ran. Slapping her arms and legs, her pack and staff bouncing, she ran.

  Pressing her lips together to keep the bugs out of her mouth she ran trapped in the cacophony of angry deer flies. Ragged breathing filled her ear drums. Her heart thumped painfully. Legs initially adrenalized had pumped with temporary strength now grew heavy with fatigue. Her chest rattled with mucus. She felt sluggish.

  She fell into a dream about the Prince but he wore a different face. It was a face that both repulsed and fascinated her. And the smell, vile, hit the back of her throat. Gagging, clutching her stomach, she bent in two and vomited cookies. Queasy and confused, she stood, unable to comprehend where she was and why. “What happened to the Prince?” Her eyes focused on Blackie. “Blackie,” she shouted. “So good to see you.”

  Blackie barked encouragement.

  Another swarm of deerflies descended. These fly’s on steroids were half of an inch and bigger. Slapping at ten she missed too many to count. More red welts bloomed down her arms and legs. She had no memory of taking off her tights, but her legs were bare. Disoriented she had a vague memory of taking them off. Spring heat, no longer climbing the mountain, they had become itchy. Giving up running, she chose to walk sedately, ignoring the swarm darkening the day around her.

  Feeling along the curves of her face, like a blind man reading Braille, she encountered lumps. Cinderella screamed outrage only to inhale bugs. Coughing, choking, and gagging she spit out mucus and bug parts. She screamed, “They’re biting through my clothes.”

  By the time the swarm was behind them Cinderella’s bites were lumpy and pink. Looking at her stomach, itchy blotches were spreading into a rash. What had her father told her about deer flies?

  Once she’d been bitten while riding horses together. Her father had told her to spit in her hand and cover the bite with her saliva. Spitting into her palms she rubbed saliva over her stomach and arms.

  “Wait! I have tree resin.” Digging in her pack, her staff clattered to the ground. Small noises amplified distorted by the fever of the deer fly. She looked at Blackie, “How does this work?”

  Blackie barked impatiently. She reached deeper into the pack and pulled out pieces of amber. Holding them in her palm she spit on the golden drops and rubbed her hands together. “Nope.” She held the amber out to Blackie for his inspection. “Let’s see the troll said my staff held liquid amber.”

  Picking up her staff she rolled it down her torso and up her back. Blackie allowed her to roll the staff across his back. They stood watching each other. “Hmm… Nothing happened?”

  Blackie gave a sniff of disdain and nudged her forward. “Alright I get it. That didn’t work. There must be a way to unlock the amber.”

  Blackie nudged her again. Her temper frayed she bit back angry words. “Let’s use Dad’s cure. Spit.”

  It took awhile. Blackie caught on and started licking Cinderella’s legs and arms. Cinderella spit in her hands and rubbed them on Blackie. She said, “You have the double coat of Labradors. I don’t think you were bitten badly.”

  Blackie ran forward and barked.

  “Okay! We’re ready. Let’s go.”

  The day felt dreary and now the sun’s glare hurt her eyes. Muscles ached. Nerves fired an excruciating phenomenon no words described. Each footfall was jarring. She wanted desperately to sit down. Tears slipped unnoticed down her cheeks. Her arms were bright red and swelling. Black
ie’s barking woke her from a fugue state, a half dream of the Prince, and propelled her into action. Her walk was jerky and asymmetrical. Still she kept moving east. She knew she’d need a Fairy Godmother’s intervention.

  Holding her stomach she leaned over and vomited bile. A lone mosquito buzzed her ear. Examining her skin it seemed her whole body swelled. “What should I do?”

  Her staff tangled in her legs banging against her shins. She had looped the chain around her head to fashion a hair band. Its weight added to the throbbing of her head and body, a terrible, unsynchronized pounding. “There is nothing to do but keep walking.”

  She whistled for Blackie. She heard him crash through the bushes. Where had he gone? How long had she stood in this place? She was dizzy and disoriented. She leaned over hugging Blackie whispering, “You take good care of us.”

  Blackie wiggled free of her embrace and disappeared, crashing through Manzanita bushes. “Where did they come from?” Cinderella wondered. “How far have I walked today?”

  Body aches drove pain bone deep. Her vision wavered. Fog snaked across the ground. Shivering, chilled by the sudden change in weather.

  Had the weather actually changed? She wasn’t sure. Cinderella slowed down. She desperately wanted to curl up and go to sleep. Her sore throat made it difficult to swallow. Her head pounded. Time slowed. Each step was a hurdle.

  She lost track of Blackie. The sun was blocked by trees and fog. Drizzle laid a heavy blanket across her shoulders. She stumbled and only her staff saved her from a fall. It was difficult to coordinate her legs and arms. Did she still have her pack? She checked over her shoulder. Daylight diminished. Cinderella lost track of the direction. “Have I already passed that tree? Do I still have my pack? Where’s Blackie?”

  Crashing in the bushes made Cinderella spin around with her staff. “Who’s there?” she croaked. A Chimera shivered the trees. Looming branches were swept aside. On the path stood the most beautiful man Cinderella had ever seen. She wanted to run into his arms. To be held and comforted. He exuded strength and confidence. She thought, “I will be safe forever with him.”

  Staggering she took a step. He whispered unspoken promises. She believed him and took another step. She was within arms reach when she saw the coldness behind his eyes and falling backwards tripped over her feet.

  Blackie barking crashed through underbrush. A woman called, “Cinderella? Cinderella!?”

  The fog receded replaced with trees shimmering, leaves chattering. Each leaf was round like coins. When had the swamps changed to these silver trees? The dark day was now blue sky. Cinderella sat up from the fall. “Blackie is it my imagination or are these trees talking?”

  Blackie barked.

  She swore he was smiling.

  The trees were laughing.

  “Am I missing the joke?”

  “You certainly are!”

  Cinderella’s head spun. “Did you hear….”

  Stepping out of the trees, laughing at Cinderella’s expression a tiny Fairy Godmother nodded. She was ancient. Not frail. She was delicate. Silver hair caught sunlight. Cinderella rubbed her eyes. This woman seemed to be all ages. Many lives rolled into one. Shifting, glittering with a light so fragile; Cinderella felt in her own body something cracking, breaking into a spider web fracture.

  “I’m sturdier than I look,” The woman laughed. She reached out her hand. “Come with me. I know a hot spring where you can bathe. We have to wash those bites. Deer fly bites can become infected. She laid a cool hand on Cinderella’s cheek.

  Cinderella shivered. The Fairy Godmother said, “A soak will lift your spirits. Start you on the road to recovery. I hear you’ve learned about self-sufficiency and the limits of self-sufficiency.”

  Her skin was golden. Firm and cool she gripped Cinderella’s hand. “Water, laughter, song, all lightens our load. In emergency wet your face with tears.”

  Her voice was filled with light. Cinderella lost herself in the music. How could the Fairy Godmother be filled with so much light and still stand in front of her? She stumbled remembering the beautiful man. “Oh,..ohh….ah, ah, I, there, a,” she stuttered. Her eyes filling with hot tears, “I saw….a gorgeous man. He…. whispered promises…I….I wanted him…” she sobbed.

  The Fairy Godmother brushed Cinderella’s words aside. Her voice took on an edge so fine it cut. “You saw a Chimera take the form of a man. Had you touched it you would have been lost.”

  Blackie barked and danced his greeting to the Fairy Godmother. She bent down, “Blackie, thank you for showing me the way.” She affectionately rubbed Blackie’s ears. Looking up at Cinderella she said, “Blackie found me. He brought me to you.”

  She stood, grabbing Cinderella’s upper arm. Pinching muscle and skin, the Fairy Godmother said, “He saved your soul.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Deer Fly Fever

  Cinderella rubbed her arm, “Are Fairy Godmothers supposed to pinch people?”

  But the Fairy Godmother had turned back to Blackie; lavishly praising his efforts. Cinderella felt her sincerity and was grateful. Not everyone treated Blackie like an equal. Different but equal. She felt weepy and sniffled. “Blackie has impeccable manners. He makes life better.”

  Could she be drunk? She sounded like her stepmother after she drank Elderberry wine. In the distance thunder rumbled. “Blackieesmyteeecher.”

  She heard her words run together. Body swaying she tried to correct her posture. Overcompensating she staggered. Successfully straightening on the second try, she brushed hair out of her eyes. Gathering all her dignity she added “Peoplees laughs but ut’s truue.”

  The Fairy Godmother righted Cinderella when she tripped, again. “Did eyee just slurrr my words?”

  The Fairy Godmother grabbed both Cinderella’s arms. Squeezing muscle and bone she halted, peering into Cinderella’s eyes. Cinderella wavered, “Ohhh…You’oorr strongerrr than youu looook!”

  The Fairy Godmother gave her a shake, “Cinderella I have syrup that will help you feel better for a time. Although I’m afraid tonight will be rough for you with all these bites. Let’s get you in hot water. The heat will kill eggs. Follow me.”

  Cinderella lost her balance and fell forward catching herself. “Eggsss! What eggsss?”

  The Fairy Godmother sighed with exaggerated patience, “Deer flies leave eggs when they bite.”

  “Arghh!!!” Cinderella swiped at her arms and legs, stamping in place. “Noooo!” she wailed.

  The Fairy Godmother ignored her. She continued walking leaving Cinderella to finish her dance. A glass tube appeared from her pocket. Pulling out the cork top she handed it to Cinderella who took the liquid swallowing it in one gulp. Her lips turned cherry red. Holding up the empty cylinder she said, “Will thisss ka, ka, kiilll the eggsss?”

  The Fairy Godmother shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “I’ve already told you. Heat from the mineral bath kills the eggs. Be quiet. Pull yourself together. Thank goodness Blackie found me and flashed a picture of what was happening to you. I grabbed the antidote.” She handed Cinderella a second tube of liquid.

  Cinderella drank it in one gulp and slumped. “I feeelsss unwellll.” She wiped her hand over a clammy forehead. “Whhaat happen’dd?”

  The Fairy Godmother nodded, “Yes, you were bitten by a swarm of deer flies. They carry disease. You are unwell. All these bites have attacked your neurological system which is why you sound drunk and wobble. The antidote will resolve those symptoms momentarily.”

  Pausing, tapping her foot, she added, “And your vulnerabilities created an opening for the Chimera stalking you, to attack. We’ll have to deal with that too.” The Fairy Godmother frowned. Concern clouded her features.

  Cinderella yelled, “Stalllking!!!” Yelling made her head explode in pain. “Agggrrrhh…”

  Maybe it was the effects of the syrup but Cinderella could not help but notice the Fairy Godmother’s silver hair, golden skin, and the humor at the back of her a
lmond eyes. The woman was radiant. Fresh, like a sunrise! Articulating each word carefully she said, “I… See…Your…Eyes…Are…Filled…With….Concern.”

  Straightening the Fairy Godmother laughed. “Not your average old lady?”

  She tilted her head and peered at Cinderella. The world went still. Had Cinderella spoken? The Fairy Godmother watched, not just with her eyes, but a clear presence unencumbered with the wounds of the past or worries of the future. Looking past Cinderella’s features, into the essence of spirit, brushing Cinderella’s cheek, she said, “You are sweet.”

  Cinderella blushed. A halo of gold wavered in the air and then Cinderella started to shake. Shaking from the toxicity of deer fly bites or being truly seen by this woman of the East? The Fairy Godmother said, “Let’s get you a soak.”

  Guiding Cinderella by the elbow they headed deeper into the forest of shimmering leaves. Cinderella barely had the strength for the brief walk to the hot spring.

  In the water she exhaled and blew bubbles. Heat loosened knotted muscles. Microscopic effervescence tickled her. She was light headed with relief. Was it the water’s heat, the antidote to deer fly bites, or maybe the relief and fear inspired by the Fairy Godmother’s presence?

  She scrubbed her hair, rinsed and then washed again. Carefully she washed her lumpy skin. She pulled herself up and rested on a rock shelf.

  A sigh, spoke more profoundly than words, her longing for her Prince. Fragments of memories, running castle hallways, eating in the attic a trunk serving as their table, stealing molasses cookies or as they grew older lounging in the library trying to best the other’s stories, the memories wove a tapestry of feelings.

  Together, Charlotte and the Prince were stronger. The alchemy of their partnership induced a version of their best-possible-self. But Cinderella felt the weight of the forces of opposition. Corruption and deceit interfered with their love, interfered with their partnership and their ability to prosper the Kingdom.

 

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