Believe My mother told me about the fae when I was a child, sitting on the edge of my bed while my innocent eyes fluttered and succumbed to sleep. She taught me how they were filled with light and magic, enchanting everything they touched. Faeries were the embodiment of all that was good in the world: the dreams of little children, the joy of their laughter, the warmth of their smiles and the hope of their wishes. Mother always ended her stories with a fervent request. "Please, don't ever lose your belief in the fae. When you lose that, you have lost your heart." I was young and starry-eyed when I listened to these tales. I spent my nights at the window, squinting my eyes in search of faeries. All of my wishes bore sparkling wings. Every shooting star or reflected ray of moonlight had the possibility of being a faery, and I was determined that I would find one. They didn't appear to me, but I never stopped looking for the mystical world that my mother had given me. I told my schoolyard friends about the faeries with a face flushed with earnestness and chest puffed up with importance. When they stopped believing in Santa Claus, I still held true to the fae. I would come home crying, hiding my face in my mother's skirt after school, because those friends had made fun of me. There were no faeries; I was telling lies, I was stupid, I was crazy. Despite their jeers and laughter, my faith did not waiver, and once the blanket of night was spread over the land, I would be watching the stars for the merest flicker of movement. Time passed, and I grew older; faeries became less appealing as adolescence approached. It was no longer good to believe in things that could not be seen or bought. My window became the doorway to more base things, like sneaking out to meet a boy or go to a kegger. The sill was lined with scratches from sneakers instead of elven runes; no preternatural light aided my retreat to weekend debauchery. Once I moved out of my childhood home, the window became just another window, of dormant wood and glass. The adult seeds of doubt in the miraculous had been sown and borne fruit. Other lessons my mother had given me became more important, like separating white clothes from colored when doing the laundry. The mundane had become my existence, and unconsciously, a small part of my heart was dying, just like my mother had predicted. I had lost my belief in dreams and the magic that they weave. I became a mature woman, with all the coldness that good sense brings. I wished for more money, a nicer place to live, and a fuel-efficient car. I never once wished for happiness, because I thought that these things would make me happy. There was a small park near my apartment, a small oasis of nature in the midst of the city. It was delightfully lush, full of spots to sit beneath the trees; a child's paradise, with all of the potential secret hiding places. I liked to go there in that surreal hour of dusk to escape, and sit on a park bench encircled by a willow tree. One evening I was particularly down, feeling more alone that I had ever before, surrounded by people but not known by anyone. Hearing many voices speaking all around me, all at once, but not saying anything. I was disillusioned with the world. There wasn't any sparkle anymore, and my wishes had not brought me happiness. I sat in my usual spot, a silent one beneath the willow's sweeping arms. The wind had picked up, and I couldn't even hear the sounds of traffic over the whisper of the leaves. The park seemed as lonely as I was, except for a faint noise that came to me. I listened as the sound grew louder. Tiny bells chiming gaily, followed by a fluttering sound that reminded me of my own forlorn heartbeat. Then a voice spoke softly, but so laden with power that I couldn't ignore it. "Believe." I shook my head. Surely I was hearing things, but the voice persisted. "Believe." I decided to answer, hoping I wasn't losing my wits. "Believe what?" "Don't you remember? Have you forgotten yourself, forgotten us?" All right, so I really was insane. I was having a conversation with the air, and wasn't enjoying it much. "What are you talking about? Who are you? Where are you?" Out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of light. It grew larger, and I turned to see what it was. I saw a glowing sphere approach me from inside the branches of the willow. It came before my face, and I realized it was a tiny winged figure surrounded by an aura of light. It sat on my nose and glared at me. It was female, with pearls for skin, golden hair and gemlike eyes. Its iridescent wings beat furiously as it kept its balance, the tips brushing my cheeks and eyelashes. "Oh my God, I'm hallucinating," I mumbled. I figured I was just tired, and was seeing reflected headlights. Or maybe I was asleep and dreaming. But dreams didn't hop up and down on your nose like they were finding a comfortable spot. The being made a clucking sound, and shook a wee finger at me in reproach. "No, you're not hallucinating. I'm as real as you are, maybe even more so now." "What do you mean, now?" I asked. "You're fading; the light from within you is flickering and dying. You're losing your heart, just like your mother told you would happen. Don't you remember?" All the memories of a misty childhood time came flooding back to me in that moment, and I could hear my mother's voice telling me to believe in magic, have faith in dreams and to never stop hoping. "Yes, I remember. She told me to never lose my belief in faeries, or I would lose my heart." The faery shook her head in concurrence. "That's why you feel so lonely and your life is empty. Without faith, the heart slowly withers and dies. I'm showing myself to you now, because you need something to believe in again." Little sparks of glitter flew down from the faery's wings as she fluttered up to whisper in my ear. "When you were young, you sat at the window each night, looking for faeries. Even when we didn't appear, you never gave up. Which leads me to the next lesson. What else did your mother teach you about believing?" "She told me to believe in myself, that I could do anything, even fly without wings," I whispered. "If you believe in yourself, you believe in the fae. We are a part of you, dwelling where wishes and dreams come to life within your soul. Have faith, and we will fly together." With that, the faery flew above my head, flaming like a shooting star, letting her aura envelop me. I felt the magic flow through me, and my heart surged to life again. In that moment, I was a part of the universe. a bright star that children wished on. Since then, I have not lost faith in the world or myself. I keep chasing my dreams, despite disappointments. Whenever I see a glimmer of light out of the corner of my eyes, I hear a tiny voice whispering "Believe". Contributed by Honor74 (S) Copyright © 2003 Cristie Gould, all rights reserved. Do not use without the author's written permission. To return to the index page, please close this window. Submissions to Scribe contests are all offered by members of Sisters of the Golden Moon. If you are a member and would like to contribute to future contests, please contact Galaxy Star Honor74 . Except where noted, all articles, submissions and graphics are copyright © 2004, Sisters of the Golden Moon, all rights reserved. To the best of our knowledge, all entries submitted to Scribe contests are the original work of the person submitting them. "Queen of the Faeries" image is copyright © 2003 Jessica Galbreth, all rights reserved. We are grateful to this talented artist for making her beautiful paintings available. The "Fairies and Fantasies" webset was created by Heronwing for Sisters of the Golden Moon and is copyright © 2003 Sisters of the Golden Moon, all rights reserved. Neither Ms. Galbreth's art nor the webset are in the public domain.