Summer Fiction

Evening, folks. How 'bout this heat, huh? Ah, but the longest day is behind us and its all downhill from here.

My post last week was a tad dark, so here is something a little lighter, a little more whimsical.


Post No. 9: Water




Every month, not far from the borders of Dren, a special gathering occurs on the field-side shore of a small, oblong lake. The field shore, a gentle slopping meadow that runs right to the waters edge, is used for this gathering because the opposite shore contains the rocky hillock homes of the Fair Folk and they get pretty tired of it sometimes.


So, once a month, the Fair Folk emerge from their ornate palaces deep under the hills and dance and banquet under the stars.

On the chosen evening, as the moon rises and a mist settles over the lake, the Watchman makes his solitary way across the lake. His boat is made of what ever is in season, sometimes a leaf, sometimes the seed pods of milkweed. The little craft glides gently to the shore and the Watchman, dressed in his finest court livery, hangs a bright lantern on a driftwood branch.

With the beacon set, the Fair Folk set out across the lake. Through the mist their guiding lanterns appear ghostly pale but as the mists subside and the waxing moon shines down the boats of the royal court glisten on the smooth water. Some of the vessels are intricately carved and pulled by water beetles or lightning bugs, others have boatmen to steer the craft safely to the field shore.
The first to arrive are the royalty; the queen of the Fair Folk is as delicate as moonlight and the king as bold as fire. Together, they lead a brilliant, shining procession of nobles and attendants to the crest of the meadow where a low rock outcropping serves as table and stage for the musicians.

Under a gibbous moon (rather than a full moon, which every lunatic goes out during), the Fair Folk hold their feast unseen but not always unheard. The lilting tunes sometimes draw sleeping townspeople from their beds. In a peaceful trance they find their way to the meadow and the festivities. If the Fair Folk are feeling kindly that evening they will invite the dreaming person to partake in their banquet and their dance. It is said that those who are fortunate enough to receive this blessing will live the rest of their lives in prosperity and happiness.

When the moon begins to fade the Fair Folk court returns to their waiting vessels and silently slip away across the lake. They once again hide under the hills waiting for the next rising moon, the next chance to dance.