Omarisse

There once was a Fairie Queen who lived on a farm on the edge of the jungle. Her body was made of glitter and she moved like an apparition. A long time ago her people had been massacred–the life of a fairie extends that of another, so they are often hunted–so she lived alone.

The Fairie Queen was getting older. She no longer shone like she used to. She'd begun to to flicker. The farm relied on her. In the spring when she yawned fields of flowers would bloom. She wanted a baby. Someone to look after the farm when she was gone.

She went to the well and tossed the bucket inside. She pulled up the cool water and carried it to a clearing, then poured the water onto the ground to make mud. Out of the mud, she fashioned her baby. She put two diamonds for eyes, so the child would always have clear sight. She called it Omarisse.

To give her daughter the breath of life, the Fairie Queen cut off all her hair. She put the baby in her nest of hair, then she placed the bundle in one of the fields. There, the sun beat down. When summer came, the sun got so hot the baby dried out and turned to dust, and the wind stirred the dust into the air. The Fairie Queen watched the dust dance in the breeze, encouraging it along. The wind grew stronger, and the bundle burst into a fiery vortex, and when it subsided Omarisse stood naked before her mother.

She was the colour of an almond. Smooth brown skin, hazel eyes.

The Fairie Queen laid down in the field. She was so tired. Omarisse kissed her mother on the forehead.

The first thing Omarisse did was to build a barn. She wanted to create animals who would bring her to new lands. She made a winged creature and one that burrowed and another that could breathe underwater. Her favourite was the glider, who used its long sticky tongue to make things slick to slide across.

At night, the barn was warm. Omarisse liked to sleep among her animals. She thought maybe if she made a creature that could travel far enough, she would find other fairies like her.

The Fairie Queen was fading from the field where she'd laid down. Omarisse visited the place often. Just a few specks of light danced in the tall grass. It was coming to the end of summer.

Omarisse whistled softly to herself in the barn, among her living creations. Beyond the fields, deep in the jungle, something glittering moved toward her. Omarisse saw it prickle at the edge of her vision.

It was the harvest. Fruit fell heavy to the earth. The fields turned yellow and blue. Omarisse carried a basket, gathering what she needed, when she saw the figure at the edge of the jungle. The glitter was sharp in the sun and stung her eyes. Shards of light stirred in the field–the last of her mother, rising in recognition of kin. More beings emerged from the jungle, shining.

Omarisse closed her eyes and said a prayer. In the waiting, in peace, the fairies had gathered strength and been restored.

In time, the Fairie Queen would return; each grain of light charged and attracted to each other. These things can’t be rushed, Omarisse knew.

She turned her attention to the visitors. The first thing she would show them was her barn, her creatures, and ask them if they had creations of their own. The field was illuminated, possessed by something new that felt like home.