Faye let out a long sigh as she surveyed what used to be her living room. Now, it looked like someone had transferred a whole swamp into her home. Moss covered her ottomans and coffee table, transforming them into large boulders. Vines climbed her drapes and bookshelves, and somehow her couch had become a small pond. There were even little insects swooping around her light fixtures, and on closer examination, she saw they were made from the matches she kept by her array of candles.
“Didn’t we agree that you should keep your magic out of my house? Everything I own suffers when you try a new spell.” In the middle of the mess, a young girl sat on the floor, grinning sheepishly up at her.
“My mom said that too, and she’s scarier than you are,” her niece, Abigail, chirped, then glanced around at the room. “I think I can put it all back.” Her voice was optimistic, with an undercurrent of uncertainty.
Faye sighed again, rubbing her temple gently. Abigail was right on the first front. Faye’s older sister, Morgan, was a firm believer in order, in discipline, and in following the rules. Faye had always been more interested in experimentation than her sister, and apparently her niece had similar inclinations. She was torn between scolding her niece, and complimenting her on her magic. It was an impressive piece of spellwork, even if she would be pulling dead leaves from her books and fighting mildew in her couch for a month.
“What ever possessed you to try, this,” she said, gesturing to the room.
Abigail brightened, sensing that she was with an ally. “I was reading about the old Fairie palaces, which had so many rooms that they didn’t know what to do with them all, so they turned some into gardens, of a sort. They had deserts, forests, some even had the sea floor and were underwater! Isn’t that amazing!” Abigail was almost glowing with excitement.
“Yes, I read those books too, when I was your age,” Faye said slowly. She needed to find a way to keep Abigail’s creativity and innovative spirit, while tempering it with some basic common sense. “Did you read about what happened to the humans who would trespassed in those great palaces?”
Abigail’s eyes widened earnestly. “Oh, yes. They would be trapped there forever, unless they somehow proved themselves worthy to the Fairie and were released, but sometimes after years and years had gone by in their world.”
“And why do you think the Fairies treated people in this way?” Faye asked, hoping it wasn’t too obvious she was trying to teach her exuberant (yet shrewd) niece a lesson.
“Because they were trespassing,” Abigail replied, as if that was a silly question. “They didn’t respect the Fairies’ land and home, and so they-” She stopped suddenly, looking slightly ashamed. “I did the same thing they did, didn’t I?” she asked quietly.
“You mean by coming into my home and transforming my living room into a swamp?” Faye said, keeping her voice light, yet firm. “Maybe a little.”
“I’m so sorry, Aunt Faye, I didn’t mean to.” Abigail’s voice had lost much of its enthusiasm, and was getting dangerously close to quivering. “I just got so excited with the possibilities.”
“I know, dear,” Faye said, going to sit on the edge of the coffee table next to her niece, but thinking better of it. Who knew what was lurking in the moss? Instead, she stretched out her hand, and Abigail took it, rising from the floor.
“Next time,” Faye said, pulling a twig from Abigail’s hair. “Ask me first. I have some ideas of what could we could do with the sofa to make it both swamp-like, and comfortable.”
Abigail grinned at her, and hugged her tight around the middle. Faye laughed, returning the embrace, then pulled back, putting her hands on Abigail’s shoulders.
“Now, let’s set this room to rights, and your mother doesn’t need to know anything happened when she comes looking for you.”
Abigail bit her lip, looking around the marshy room. “I’m not sure I can… That is, I’m not exactly sure I know how to…”
Faye laughed, shaking her head. “Let me show you. Pay attention now.” And magic swelled up around them, waiting for their direction.
Inspired by a writing prompt from The Character Comma’s prompt generator.
© The Lightning Tower, 2020