Dream Girl

Shaw had been watching the girl for a while now, the manifestation of her in his mind’s eye the moment sleep overtook him. Work often came to the small Brownie in dream form, and before him was a girl- a child- in the forest, not far from his own home in the dusty chest of Arnold Pratts home attic.

Master Arnold, who Shaw had tended to prior to this, no longer needed his help. Arnold had passed away in his sleep, leaving behind no living relatives. He lived a good life as a herbologist, Shaw having helped with his plants and crops as the man had lived a solo life for longer than Shaw had known him, and then, the man had yet to develop liver spots.

Shaw had taken greatly to Arnold. However, he had outlasted many masters during his many years and was only left with satisfaction for having been the best for his master while he was still living. Now, the man was a putrid mess upon his bed- not yet found- and Shaw was waiting for work to come, although as nights passed, he feared humans no longer needed a brownies aid as they had built machines to do it for them.

Tonight though, there was a child.

She was in his mind, captured in a fuzzy dream, placing a daisy on top of the oyster mushrooms. She stood back, beaming. It was her masterpiece, and Shaw felt her pride as if they were one mind, body, and soul.

She knelt before the fairy home she constructed with flowers, ferns, stones, and ventilated jars of fireflies, landing in the puddle of her violet dress. The bottom hem was caked in a soft brown dust, he figured from her material gathering and building in the thick forest.

He imagined taking delicate care to properly clean that dress, to see her face beam once more at her newly clean outfit. The materials deep color intensified the pink of her blush, which she was doing now.

“Forgive me,” she began, her voice airy and soft. “I don’t know what to say, or who to say it to. Pa has been working so hard, and-.” Her voice caught.

He watched as she grabbed the hem of her dress, toying with the filth for a moment and sat in silence while she gathered her thoughts.

Flashes of an elderly man with a scruffy dark and unkempt beard slaving over drying crops, and of a boy with the girls’ eyes flooded his mind as the girl began to huff. He felt her as she shifted between uncertainty, nervousness, but most felt of all she was feeling… was desperation.

She turned her chin towards the unoccupied fairy real estate with a final huff.

“Summer is coming, and the crops aren’t taking. Pa has been working so hard, and now that Duncan is gone from TB, Pa could use some help. I am doing my best, but I have read stories. Pa would scold me if he were here to hear the way I am rambling to a tree, asking for help from fairies.” Flashes of the boy with matching eyes asleep, sweaty in bed as the girl wept at his feet, the man in the crops weeping to the sky, on his knees in the dirt full of dying plants, passed through Shaw’s mind as the girls’ memories overwhelmed his vision.

“Nonsense Poppy, get our head out of the books,” the girls voice boomed, the visions fading. Her voice was deeper- raspier- in what Shaw assumed was an imitation of the man in the crops- her Pa. She scoffed and shook her head before taking a moment to gather her emotions that Shaw felt just as rapidly as she did.

He watched, unable to do a thing, as she swept the dirt from her dress with the back of her hands. The girl was young, not a woman in age as Shaw could tell from her size and lack of womanly curvatures; but as her chin met the full moons blue glint, and as the shoulder of her dress fell revealing fair skin- likely due to her weight loss from lack of growing food supply within her families crops, and the dresses inability to hold her small frame within its worn confines- he felt a mature firmness in her as she continued to speak.

“I believe there is more out there. Truth to the stories. My Pa is a good man. He may not believe the same way as I do, but he is a good man and he is just hurting from losing Ma while she was having me, and now Duncan. My brothers passing-

She had to stop. However, he felt it as flashes of her brother and Pa passed through his mind once more. Different now, were the memories of a hand that clutched a photo of a woman with the girls same long dark hair holding the boy with matching eyes when he was a child in a tight hug, their mouths in wide, loving laughter. Their matching eyes were hers as well.

Shaw watched the girl as she took a moment to clear her mind and pull dead leaves from the base of the tree. As she took care of the decay that smelled of fall, unlike the decay that surrounded Shaw within the confine of Arnold Pratts cottage, she regained her composure.

“Pa and I could use some help. If there is such a thing as magic… my Pa and I could sure use some.”

She stood up again, grabbing what was left of her candle that had been burning atop a red belted conch in a little brass tray, and gave one final look at the constructed fairy home. Shaw felt simultaneously as she did, her confidence leaving her.

“Help us,” she breathed, the last of her desperation pouring into those two words and Shaw felt them- and he felt it deeply. The child within her broke through her mature womanly appearance, and her lips curved into a trembling pout. Turning, she left. His mind went dark.

Waking from his dream, the soft smell of tobacco, cashmere and dirt touched his senses before the pungent smell of what remained of Arnold met his nose. The brownie, unfazed, grabbed what was left of his honey jar and cookies, taking a few bites before preparing for his trip to the crops.

In the home of Arnold Pratt, within the dark confines of a sweater chest, Shaw knew what had to be done.