This is a story I wrote many years ago, and I've just discovered it in some old journals. I haven't even read it in 10 years so it could be rubbish.
I'm going to type it exactly as I found it, unedited, unexpurgated, unchanged; any spelling or grammatical errors will probably be retained, unless they're really embarrassing.
So apologies in advance for split infinitives, incorrect punctuation, misspellings and general being-rubbishness. This was written in one or two days nearly 14 years ago and was never edited - this is the first time the manual writing has been transcribed.
It could be rubbish, it could be great. (My money's on the former). Depending on which, I may give up writing entirely, or just realise that i was better then than I am now, or possibly I may prove that you truly do get better with time.
It is going to take much more than one entry to complete, but what the hell. You've got to expose your arse to someone at some point.
A Strange Fickle Thing (Pt 1)
The forest was old and it was green, and it was filled with many old green trees, and the faeries lived there.
None could remember how old the forest was, nor the trees, but the trees and the grass and the faeries were content.
Time passed for the forest of green trees, and man came along, and replaced some of it with his own; new stone-glass trees for the old wood-leaves trees. But not all the forest was destroyed; some was left to remind man of what he had conquered.
And man called it a Park.
And the faeries lived there.
Each day, people would come to the park and they would walk and talk and play. They would look on the green trees and the green grass and the brown earth and the blue sky and they would sigh and they would say:
"How lucky are we to have such a place, where we can come and sit and walk and see nature in all its wonder and glory!"
The people would wander on then, and feed the birds who came daily for the bread that was thrown, and they would sit by the fountains and the lakes and the flower-beds, and they would hold close to themselves the ones they loved; and they lived in the stoneglass forest outside, and they were content.
The faeries watched this, and wondered at the people's contentment. And they said:
"How can people such as these be happy in this place? They do not run across the tree-branches, nor sing to the water, nor fly through the leaves; nor do they speak to the flowers nor dance unclothed beneath the starlight. How can joy come to them?"
And still the faeries wondered.
Time passed, and the faeries dwindled, for seldom did children come to that race, and all their ancient magick could not prolong their lives in the midst of the stoneglass forest, with the suns that shone in the night, and the stars that flew in the day.
But of people there were always more. And they came still to the park and looked deep into the lakes and the fountains, and tightly squeezed one another's hands, and said, one to the other:
"Is it not bliss that we should be together in this place of beauty? For all that we have in the city beyond here is as nothing compared to the love we share, and share it here we can in peace and joy."
And the faeries heard this, and wondered no more, for the sight of love was the answer they sought.
Come back another time for the next installment!