By: Laura

Laura — Thu, 15 Apr 2010 02:27:59 +0000

When I was little (ie, about six or seven), I was writing this story that I insisted was true: It was about this girl by the name of Joanalivia, who lived in the forest. The forest in my mind (I remembered the imagery when I re-read the story later) was old, with tall oaks stretching on into the sky and a carpet of old leaves and acorns. The girl, like the others of the story, lived under the trees, the roots being the support for the roof and the guarentee that everything wouldn’t just collapse (there were half-size wooden doors they hid under the leaves that led to their homes). At night, Joanalivia and the others would feast on the spoils of the forest, arrayed on leaves on a long table, listening to music of drum, flute, and seven- and nine-stringed violins. Just before morning, the musicians would retreat below ground, the remenants of the feast would be scattered, and the table would be literally taken apart, each bit of wood pulled away from its fellows, and stored underground – each person would take a disassembled section. The following night, the table would be re-assembled and the party would commence. There were lanterns hung in the trees, but I didn’t describe them well when I wrote about it. I left off with Joanalivia eagerly awaiting something the next night, reading because she couldn’t sleep; I remember neither what she was waiting for nor any ther part of the story, just this bit. In the story, when I pictured it, Joanalivia was not me, but later I couldn’t remember who or where I was in the story, if I was there at all.

By: Fiona

Fiona — Sun, 07 Feb 2010 17:02:55 +0000

I hope it’s a happy discovery!

By: Rosette

Rosette — Sat, 06 Feb 2010 19:43:48 +0000

…i never thought my ancestors could be fae…

Comments on: Different kinds of faeries

By: Laura

By: Fiona

By: Rosette