Twelve Birthday Parties
Builder has issues. He's always going about Nature for hours and hours writing down stories out of rocks, moss, twigs and whatever critters he happens to see. One day some folks approach him to ask if he will write a birthday story for a little boy. They tell him what the boy likes and doesn't like.
"All right." Builder smiles, "I'll write a true story from those clouds I saw today curling up over a field one after the other. There must be magic in seeing such a strange sight."
"But Builder," Adelane says, "Clouds curl all the time."
"In the same place on the same day in the same hour one after the other? Methinks not." Builder smiles even wider, "How old is the boy? A big story or a small story size?"
"We agree on a small story. Can you provide pictures?" Henry Hebblewall replies.
"I can. Big pictures or little pictures? How's the boy's reading level?"
There's a stir in the small crowd just as sun breaks through some very heavy blue gray clouds. The mumbling draws attention as crows begin to fly into the woods. A wide and strong beam of sunshine brighten the clearing in the pines where the meeting is taking place. Builder begins frantically writing in his notebook.
The folks stop mumbling among themselves.
"We trust your judgment, Builder. We have faith you will select the pictures as well as the sizes that best fits the story." Arnie states as he puffs out his neon green vest.
"I see." Builder mumbles without looking up from his writing. "A small story with appropriate pictures, hand drawn from photos. When is this boy's present due?"
"Today." Adelane's sister Lena whispers in her spring mellow voice.
"Today!" Builder looks up eyes squinting in the bright sunshine.
"You write so fast." Ben adds.
"Yes, Builder, you do write fast. And its only a little boy's birthday story." Cynthia giggles.
"Only!? I say not." Builder exclaims, "Thank you for the confidence. I've begun writing the story. It will be ready in another hour or so. No pictures, just a photo in that time frame you understand."
In the Hebblewall Woods, there's a small open field surrounded by maple and pine. There is where the man and woman from up North arrive mid winter, in the snow to camp as they replenish their magic powers. A fairy band assembles there as well to share their magic, and barter for new magic they can use to help people.
One February above the woods two curly clouds appeared, one after the other in the sky within the same hour. The fairies tell the man and woman those clouds are fairy spirits at play. Wherever the clouds are seen, for whoever sees them, there is a wish gift granted. On their way to the field, they tell the fairies they saw the two curly clouds as the fairies describe.
"What do we do now?" The man asks.
"Both of you have a wish. Make it." The fairies reply, "And say them aloud so the fairy spirits know what to do."
"We wish for a birthday party every month of the year!"
So it came to be every month of the year there is a birthday party.
There are two or three pages of notes for a much larger story. Time flies. I wrote this today, a copy and paste. The original idea is huge, too huge for a fairy tale. I smile.