The depth of her strength

Long ago a tender, loving and trusting fairy child was born into a spellbound family. Under an age-old curse, her parents could not love. In an attempt to break the spell, the girl gave up large portions of her Self: her ideas, dreams, opinions, and feelings. These she folded into a tiny square, a treasure packet, then tucked them deep in her pocket. So, even as her body grew, the fairy child became smaller inside.

One day an evil troll, disguised as a man, crossed her path. Seeing the fairy child was unprotected, he invited her into his home. Innocent of predators in the world, the girl took the trollman’s hand.

He gave her bread and cheese, compliments and laughter. Unfamiliar with real love, the girl mistook these for that craved sensation. “At last I’ll have what I need,” she thought.

That night, while she slept complacently, the trollman sealed shut the door. He bent down and kissed the child’s satin mouth, used her to satisfy his need to dominate and control. Having control over someone–even a defenseless child–made him feel powerful.

“I give you much,” he said, “and you have something I want. I must have just a little piece of your wing.”

Under the trollman’s trance, the fairy child could not know the value of her wings. She did not resist. Each day, he required a larger piece of wing. At the same time, he reduced the girl’s ration of bread and cheese.

As the fairy child lost her vitality, the trollman took advantage. He pinned her down and stole her treasure packet. The spell-dazed child barely realized what was happening. She did not understand the significance of her loss.

Still the poor girl thought it was love. The trollman’s meager crusts seemed more than her parents had given. “He loves me” she told herself. “I must love him, or I wouldn’t have given him my wings and treasure packet.”

Finally, the fairy child’s wings were mere nubs. Still, the trollman demanded more. Powerless under his spell, she did not protest. Soon, the girl was wingless and bald, her tresses consumed by the trollman’s insatiable appetite.

“You must give up more!” The trollman snarled, as he tied her down and bit off her toe. The pain of the loss startled the fairy child awake from her trance. She saw the man was an evil troll, and his home a dark cave, strewn with foul garbage. The child shuddered as she realized her danger. “If I stay here, he will eat me to my bones.”

The next day, when the troll went out, the fairy child noticed the door. Searching for her treasure packet, she sifted through dirt and disgust. She found it–torn and with two of the corners missing. The girl unfolded it, wrapping it around her. Instantly, her hair and wings grew back. With all her strength, she pushed on the door, breaking its seal.

Not knowing where else to go, the fairy child reluctantly returned to her father’s house. She knew the ancient curse would prevent her family from understanding and offering support and love. The fairy child hated the pretending game, but she had to play, to fit in with her spellbound family. Her father did not want to see his daughter’s wound–to face the truth–if it might cause him any discomfort.

The girl’s emotions were knotted, and she had no one to help her untangle them. “I LET that evil little troll take away my wings, my hair and my treasure packet. I must be as vile as he,” she mourned. The fairly child’s bright spirit dwindled, as a flame deprived of air. Her wings went limp, her hair turned matted. The girl feared that snuffing out her spirit was the only way to end her turmoil. Yet, her family was oblivious to her decline.

But in her dreams, a wise old fairy Queen urged, “You do not have to do this. You can save yourself. Save yourself; you are worth it.”

The child took small steps toward making herself feel better. Bandaging the weeping sore where her toe had been, the young fairy vowed to not look at it again. She brushed her hair, unfolded her wings, and started trying to reach out.

Before she knew it, the fairy child fell in love with a fairy boy. But he, too, was terribly wounded, and medicated himself with toadstool water. This numbed him, and made him mean. The fairy child clung to him, wishing she could help. “If only I love him enough, he will no longer need the toadstool water.”

For seven years, the fairy child stayed with the boy. Then the girl fell gravely ill, coughing blood; unable to rise from her bed. “Maybe now he will love me,” she thought, waiting for him to care for her. The boy did not come. He was busy gathering toadstools. Crying bitterly, the fairy child realized, “He will NEVER be here for me. I must take care of MYSELF, and create the life I want to live.”

As the girl regained some strength, she met other people, who shared their bread freely. Tasting the loaves of many bakers was nourishing. The fairy child learned to bake, and offered her bread in return. At last she knew true friendship, and she thrilled at its sustaining power. It was then she completed her transformation into a fairy woman.

As the fairy woman’s life began to blossom, she was introduced by a friend to a fairy man. He was about her age, handsome, humorous and intelligent. She felt attracted to him right away. The fear inside her warned, “Don’t get close; he will hurt you just like your father, the troll, and the toadstool boy.”

Although she tried to avoid it, the fairy woman fell in love with the fairy man, and they soon married. They built a life rich with love, trust, and sharing, and filled their home with warmth and comfort.

Into their lives they invited two fairy children, whom they loved dearly and raised with all the tender care they could offer. Around their home sprang a garden, which bore bountiful fruits and flowers, offering a haven for birds, rabbits, and butterflies.

The fairy woman was strengthened by her new life. She felt wrapped in warmth, love and safety. At last, she was able to examine the wound from her missing toe. Seeing it, she cried out in pain and fear. “WHY won’t this heal? It still hurts, after all these years.” For the first time, she allowed herself to experience the anguish of what happened to her.

The fairy woman began to cleanse the wound and mourn her loss. “He had no right! He tricked me into giving up my Self.” She realized the depth of her strength. “I’ve walked through life with a severe injury, and kept my ability to love and trust. I survived, and now I’m ready to heal.”

With help and guidance from the caring people around her, the fairy woman finished cleaning the toxic material from her wound, applied a soothing salve and a carefully wrapped bandage. She looked at it often, caring for the wound as it needed.

In time, the fairy woman healed. The scar from the lost toe became a reminder of the pain and danger she lived through, the strength she bore, and how far she had journeyed.

To her daughters she gave wings, helping them grow into strong and wise fairy women. And she lived the balance of her life happy to be her Self.

© 1998, 2007, 2011 Shay Seaborne. All rights reserved.

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1 Response to The depth of her strength

  1. j says:

    OUCH — that was so hard to read. Glad it had a good ending.

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