The Small One



A small cough revealed her hiding behind a chair. I pretended not to see her, even looked away, but the flash of her eyes pierced the room’s midnight. Why she was here, who knew, perhaps fate or fragility? But when I opened the window that a stiff breeze had slammed closed behind her, she simply flew away.

I have never told this tale to anyone, not family, friend or foe. People would’ve thought me mad to speak of the little people, those we call faerie. Reputations are tarnished by such things and I was never a brave man. So why, you ask? Why now? Why us? Know this, my dear, dear readers, I’m telling you because tonight she’s back. And I won’t be.

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