The True Stories of Dream Fairies: Bloom
By Heather Lynne Shida
Copyright 2012 Heather Lynne Shida
*****
Chapter One: Bea Blooms
What was that annoying itch, Bea thought as she rolled over in her sleep? It was right square between her shoulders. She tried to bend her arm back right to get to it without any luck. Stupid itch had pulled her out of a perfectly good dream. She rolled over again, now on her back, and tried to shift her body to get to that spot. She was awake now and she was staring at the ceiling. The morning sun was sending sparkles all across the room, but that itch on her back would not leave her alone. It didn't just itch anymore, it burned a little like she had scratched it too hard and broken the skin a bit. But that couldn't be the case since she hadn't been able to reach it at all. What could it be? She wiggled slightly as she thought.
Suddenly, Bea sat up right in her bed. She wanted to scream out and beat her head a few times. Why did it take her so long to figure out what was going on? She had been waiting for this moment for years. She had been imagining what it would be like for days. She had lain in bed for what seemed like hours last night, unable to sleep, thinking about this. And now she had spent the first crucial minutes of this great moment lying in bed annoyed!
Bea jumped out of bed and ran across her room. Tearing off her shirt she stood in front of her full mirror. Bending it down a little she tried to peer over her shoulder to see her back. She stared, and waited. Since the itching had started a few minutes ago it had to be soon. Bea's neck was starting to hurt from the strain of peering over her shoulder. But she didn't want to move an inch from this awkward position. They're coming, she thought. She was so excited she couldn't stand it any longer. This was definitely going to be the best part of her birthday. Presents would be great too, but this; this could not be compared to anything else. Bea's focus left her back for a second as she thought about everything she would be able to do now that she was turning eight today. The things she could reach, the speed in her movement, her friends would be so jealous.
"Ouch!" The itchy spot on her back seared in pain. Bea twisted her head around again but her long, straight, sky-blue hair was in her face this time. Anxiously she tucked her hair behind her ears and stared at the reflection of her back in the mirror. There they were! They were small and had just broke through the skin, but there was no doubt that Beatrice Featherstone's wings had started to bloom.
She was so excited she could barely stay still to watch them grow. She wanted to run and tell her mother and father but she was glued to that spot in her room, staring over her shoulder. If she left this spot she would miss something. Bea had talked with her mother about this last night. She had a million questions for her mother. Would it hurt? When would it happen? How long would it take? How big would they be? What color would they be? Her mother had reassured her that the pain only lasted a second, that it usually happened in the morning and that it took just a few minutes for them to bloom completely.
"Do you want someone to be there with you?" her mother had asked her last night as she tucked her into bed.
Bea thought. Half of her really wanted her mother there holding her hand the entire night and into the morning. The other half was excited to show off that she was growing up and that she could do this by herself; after all, she was turning eight. Mrs. Featherstone could tell that Bea was thinking hard about her answer.
"I could be here if you wanted. But if you wanted to just have a moment with them alone, right as they bloom, then that is OK too honey." Mrs. Featherstone always knew the right words to reassure her and make her feel brave.
"What did you do when it happened?" Bea asked her mother, trying to sound casual and grown-up about it all.
"Well, I had actually insisted that I be alone. I was so excited and I wanted to see them all by myself first. But it is OK if you want me to be there with you." Mrs. Featherstone smiled at her daughter.
Bea thought again. She knew what she wanted to do. Her mind was made up. But she was a little nervous to walk away from the invitation to have someone there just in case.
"You need mommy there to hold your hand loser?" Bea's brother, Steven, had peered around her bedroom door. He was four years older than her and was constantly saying something mean or annoying to her. She hated him almost all the time. His comment gave her the determination she needed.
"I'd like to be alone, mom!" She declared in a voice that was maybe a little louder than necessary.
Mrs. Featherstone glared at Steven, but turned quickly to smile at her. "You'll be fine. It is the most exciting moment in your life. Just come out and join us for breakfast when you are ready. Try to sleep too, OK?"
Bea had snuggled under the covers and tried to fall asleep, but her mind was just racing with thoughts of how wonderful it would be to have wings. Now that she thought about it, she had no recollection of having fallen asleep. Her conversation with her mother seemed so far away now as she watched as her wings grew even greater in size.
And grow they did. They were stretching now over her shoulders, over her head, and the lowest tips of her hindwings were nearly touching the floor. Bea was a dream fairy and dream fairies had wings that were very similar to the wings of different kinds of butterflies. It was always luck that would lead to the size and color of one's wings. The Ancients would say that the kind of wings that bloomed would tell about who you would be when you were older. Bea's wings were like those of the monarch. They were not nearly as brightly colored though. Dream fairy wings were very pale and look almost like layers of iridescent tissue had covered the normally brilliant colors found on true butterflies. Bea's wings had veins that were a silvery gray and there were large areas of a faint buttery orange. All around the edge of both the forewings and hindwings were small, sparkling white spots that look like pearls. She instinctively gave them a shake and her room was splattered with fairy dust and dew. The sensation sent shivers down her spine as she stretched them out to their fullest. Bea now had huge wings. She thought about her friends at school and how they would all want to see them on Monday. She knew though that she wasn't allowed to fly to school or during class time. But she would still be able to show off how pretty and big her wings were. She would be the first one, in her entire grade at school to bloom. She was most excited to show them to her best friend, Cathy. Cathy would be so happy for her.
Bea was done now staring in awe and pride at her wings and wanted to share her excitement with her mother and father. She was ready to rush out of her room when she remembered she didn't have a shirt on. She grabbed one from her drawer and pulled it over her head and arms but got stuck when she tried to pull them over her wings. Of course, she couldn't wear her normal clothes anymore. Bea panicked. She didn't want to leave her room without a shirt on because she knew that her stupid brother would make fun of her forever. She started pacing her room. Maybe she could just hold a shirt to her chest? No, she wanted to walk out of her room in pride and dignity, not clenching some stupid shirt to her. If she opened her door and called for her mother, Steven would hear and come running. He might even beat her mother to Bea's room. It was always a battle to figure out how to avoid Steven's taunts. She carefully went to her door and slowly pried it open just a sliver. No one could be seen. She tried to listen carefully. She could just make out sounds of her brother and father in the kitchen. Steven was probably already eating since he was such a pig, Bea thought to herself. Just then she saw her mother flit across the hall.
"Mom!" Bea screamed a whisper through the crack in her door.
Mrs. Featherstone looked very much like Bea. She was a flier and that meant that her hair
had been cut short. But it was a style that suited her. She always seemed to have extra energy and this led to her being a little clumsy; a trait that Bea had inherited. Her wings were small against her back now, as was proper etiquette for indoors, but when her wings were extended to their full size they were a little bit smaller than Bea's were. Mrs. Featherstone's wings were that of the Great Spangled Fritillary. They were milky yellow, covered in creamy coffee brown spots and had cute little scalloped edges along the bottom of the hindwings. Mrs. Featherstone turned her head toward the sound and saw her daughter hiding behind her bedroom door. She flew over quickly and slipped through the crack, softly shutting the door behind her.
"Bea, they are beautiful!" Mrs. Featherstone's voice rang through the room. She tried to pull her daughter to her for a hug but found that Bea was resisting.
"Mom, I need a shirt!" Bea didn't have time for hugs. She needed a shirt and fast before her brother came rushing through the door. "Steven might come in!" Bea's normally pale white cheeks flushed red as she pleaded with her mother.
Mrs. Featherstone's face broke into a smile as she flicked her finger and a small shot of dust dashed across the room and hit the door knob with a crack. Mrs. Featherstone was not very good with magic. Male fairies naturally had very large amounts of fairy dust rushing through them, but for females they had to study and train a great deal to learn how to coax what little they had out of their fingertips. Mrs. Featherstone's poor use of dust had left the door unchanged and so Mrs. Featherstone leapt across the room and started pushing on the side of Bea's dresser until it had come just in front of the door.
"There, he won't be able to bother us now!" Mrs. Featherstone declared in a satisfied tone.
Bea laughed.
"Now, about your shirt predicament, I have your new clothes for you in the laundry room. I had just forgotten to bring them in here last night. Besides you won't be wearing those today. You need your special blooming robe." And with that Mrs. Featherstone took a small flask from her pocket. It was yellow and no bigger than her hand. Bea could see it sparkle and knew immediately what it was. It was fairy dust. The kind you could buy at the store. Families could use their own fairy dust to make things like furniture, food, or clothes, but it was impossible to be able to have enough fairy dust naturally for all the things a family might need day-to-day. That was where the fairy dust shops came in handy. There were three kinds of fairy dust. There was high grade fairy dust that had to be donated by those male fairies of the highest caliber. This level of dust was usually reserved for important government or community work, but there were some male fairies who had chosen to market their amazing skills and sold this high grade dust at a high price. Because it was of such a high level, this kind of fairy dust could practically be used by anyone to great effect. The second kind of dust, regular grade, was the basic fairy dust that was found in all fairies, though in greater quantity and higher grade, in male fairies. It was one of the civic duties of all male fairies in a community that were over the age of 16, to donate dust every month. This dust was used for the community at large and excess was sold by the government to make basic quality goods. A small amount of skill was required to successfully use this dust. The final kind of dust was manufactured fairy dust. Thomas Everwell had been the founder of a method that used the smallest amount of high grade fairy dust and it was then manipulated into large amounts of fake dust. This dust was available for a very low price. But even those with great magic ability might find themselves with a bad batch that wouldn't quite work right. The government didn't really approve of this fake dust and the Ancients had even declared that use of such magic should be considered illegal. Since Mrs. Featherstone was one of the top fliers with the government the Featherstones had made it a point to never allow fake fairy dust in their home. Conversely, high grade dust had not been bought very often either. Bea knew that her father did not have high grade dust running through his body. Bea had wished that her mother had splurged and bought the more expensive high grade dust at least sometimes. She had especially wanted her to get some to make new clothes for her like the ones she had seen at the store last weekend. Her mother had stuck to the regular grade dust she always bought. Bea tried not to let her disappointment take over her again because she was really happy to get the new clothes no matter what the fairy dust grade.
She had sat by her mother's side last night and had watched as her mother opened each small white flask, and with a flick of the wrist, had coerced the fairy dust out. Immediately the sparkling dust had shot out of the flasks and, with a rather loud snap, had left behind new shirts and dresses that had space for wings to come through. Bea always liked watching anyone use these flasks of fairy dust to make things. Everyone had different techniques and results. Mrs. Featherstone didn't really have the skill or grace and her items always came out just like the store promised they would. But Bea had been over at Cathy's house and had watched on numerous occasions as Mrs. Royce would use the same white flasks to make things and the results were shockingly different. Bea was certain that some of Mrs. Royce's own fairy dust was mingling with the regular grade fairy dust, since what should have been a simple white dress had come out with beautiful lace trim and embroidered floral accents. Mrs. Royce was a perfect example of a female fairy that had been so skilled and smart that she had trained to use her fairy dust at a level that was greater than the average male fairy. Mrs. Royce was so graceful as she would twist and turn her delicate wrists to gently coax the fairy dust from the flask. It would dance and jump along the air and then spiral round and round. It would finish off with a beautiful bell-like chime, a sparkle of dust, and something a little better than normal would be created from those simple white flasks. Today though, Bea couldn't believe her eyes. She caught her breath when she looked at the little yellow flask in her mother's hand and saw the words: High Grade Fairy Dust - Blooming Robe - Brilliant Yellow, etched in gold along its edge.
"What's that mom?" She asked nervously.
"Well, after a lot of discussion with you dad, we decided that we could honor this incredibly special occasion with something a little extraordinary." Mrs. Featherstone smiled at her as she took the cork out of the flask.
Without even giving the flask a little shake the fairy dust darted out. It started spiraling in the middle of the room and in a second a sweet bell-like chime sounded and the dust was gone. In its place was a beautiful yellow robe with shiny satin ribbon along the hem and to serve as a belt around the waist. And to say that it was yellow was an understatement. It looked like sunshine it was so radiant.
"Put it on silly, don't just stare." Mrs. Featherstone held open the robe for her to slide her arms through the bell-shaped sleeves, leaving the robe open in the back.
"I picked this color knowing how much you had liked it when you were looking at that dress the other day in the store. Who would have known that it would look so perfect with your wings!" declared Mrs. Featherstone as she lovingly stroked her daughter's new wings and finished off the satin belt in a fat bow.
Bea did really look beautiful. The bright robe made Bea's nearly white skin shine with a delightful warmth. She let her mother nudge her onto her chair at her desk. Her mother grabbed a brush from Bea's dresser and started brushing her daughter's long blue hair. Dream fairy's hair was the same color as the sky. That meant that there were lots of different shades of blue hair. Bea's was the same color of blue that you would see on the morning of a summer day. Her hair was shiny and straight, like everyone else's. That was unless someone had invested in some high grade dust to change their hair. Mrs. Featherstone was against that. Bea had asked her before if she might change her hair color or add some curls, when she was older, but her mother had always told her no. Bea didn't really bother thinking about that now as she enjoyed her mother slowly brushing her hair as they talked to each other's reflection in the mirror.
"So, how was it? How was your blooming?" Mrs. Featherstone asked with a smile.
Bea shr
ugged her shoulders trying to act tough, but her excitement was given away in the twinkle in her eyes. "It was cool."
"Your wings are really beautiful, Bea." Mrs. Featherstone was looking over each wing carefully. Like butterflies, dream fairies had four wings, two hindwings and two forewings. They were made up of millions of tiny scales that were just visible if you looked up close. Unlike butterflies, the scales were quite a bit sturdier and only broke off after some extreme incident. Certainly, having such large wings like Bea's made it difficult to walk around. To help reduce the chance of accident and the wear and tear of scraping wings against hallways and doorways, dream fairies' wings could reduce in size so that they did not extend beyond their backs. It was considered quite rude to strut around with your wings fully bloomed when not necessary. This manner Bea was well aware of and not at all interested in abiding by. She wanted to show everyone her wings in their full glory.
"Can I go show dad now?" Bea was so excited she could hardly stand it. She was particularly excited to show off in front of her brother.
"And could I maybe fly just a little? Maybe just out to the kitchen?" Bea asked shyly. She had a feeling her mother would say no, since flying inside was generally frowned upon.
Mrs. Featherstone smiled. She was always the first one to let the rules bend. Bea loved that about her mother. If her father had said no, then there was a small chance that her mother would say yes.
"Sure, show us what you got. You are the birthday girl. But you know that normally you . . ."
". . . Aren't allowed to fly inside," Bea continued for her mother. "I know mom, I know."
Mrs. Featherstone laughed. "Let me get out there and get the men together for your grand entrance then."
With a smile, Mrs. Featherstone heaved the dresser aside and stepped out the door and left Bea to get herself together for her first moments of flying.
Bea turned to her reflection in the mirror. Wings! How wonderful they were. And they seemed to share a mind with her as she gave them a little shake and flutter. "Maybe I should give them a little test run in here," Bea mumbled to herself and she straightened the shining fabric of her robe. Bea closed her eyes and thought about being weightless, flying. She concentrated and was surprised as she felt her feet leave the floor. Her wings were moving slowly, softly by her ears. She was hovering just a fraction above the floor. This was going to be too easy. She brought herself back to the floor and ran over to the door. Without any hesitation she flew it open with perhaps just a bit too much force as it slammed against the wall behind it. The hallway was not very long and it led straight to the kitchen at the other end of the house. Bea had her wings held tight together as she started off on a run down the hallway. Her intention was to let the wings free the minute she broke free of the narrow hallway. Just as she plunged forward in a slight leap and let her wings out into their full span she realized she had misjudged the length of the hallway. Her wings grazed the edges of the walls for just a second as she had leapt into the air. This forced her into a sort of tumble through the air as her feet kicked up at a strange angel. She was airborne for a moment or two. Her wings moved slightly, trying to gain momentum again, but her feet found the floor again and her toe was caught and she was pulled down into a terrible crash. Her wings, her hair and the beautiful robe were all twisted as she caught herself on all fours just at the kitchen table.
"Way to make an entrance, sis!" laughed Bea's brother, Steven. Steven took after his father more than his mother. He had a stocky build and Steven's hair was shaved down to a buzz cut and Bea always thought it made it look like his head was glowing a little since his hair was a light shade of blue.
Bea stood up and her face felt hot with anger and embarrassment as she glared at her brother. The tears were burning in her eyes as she screamed, "Shut up!"
Mr. Featherstone, who had been sitting at the breakfast table, knew to leap up and intervene before things got out of control. He had strong broad shoulders. He scooped Bea up into his arms and twirled her around until he set her on his chair.
"Happy Birthday, princess! And Happy Blooming! Wow, your wings are huge!" Mr. Featherstone was a great referee when it came to the battles between Bea and her brother. He knew that it was often the best tactic to try to distract everyone with a new topic. He was satisfied to see that his plan was working as Bea wiped the tears forming in her eyes. She gave a quick glare at her brother before turning her attention to her father. She smoothed her robe down and tried to straighten her hair a bit as she fluttered her wings to make sure they were all right. She was relieved to discover that they were unharmed. She decided to give a little twirl to show off the wings and the robe and to try to erase the embarrassment of her tumble.
"Ah, and this must be the blooming robe you got the other day," Mr. Featherstone turned his smile to Mrs. Featherstone.
"Yes." Mrs. Featherstone replied in a tone that Bea recognized. Her mother was giving her father a hint to not talk about the subject anymore.
"Huh, you know, it really is pretty. I think it was worth it. I know at least you certainly are worth it, princess!" Mr. Featherstone pulled her into a hug and Bea could feel the tension surrounding her mother's face disappear into a smile.
"I knew you would agree once you saw it on her. Doesn't she look pretty?"
Steven was sitting in the corner of the kitchen stuffing toast into his mouth. He had a terrible look of disgust as he stared at Bea's yellow robe. Steven's birthday had been last month. He had turned twelve. When male dream fairies turned twelve they were allowed to use the fairy dust that was naturally inside of them. Their dust was also tested to see what level it was. Steven's was medium-regular grade, just like his father's. Bea had secretly hoped that on that day they would discover that her mean brother had no fairy dust at all, or at least an incredibly low grade. But that kind of result was very rare and in the end Bea didn't really want to wish bad things on her brother, maybe just small bad things. Steven had been studying at school and working on using his fairy dust. Just the other day he had been able to make things move around his room. Bea had watched him enviously all afternoon, wondering when she would finally get to use fairy dust. Female dream fairies began their magic studies at twelve as well, but no female was ever tested since they always had low-regular grade fairy dust. Not only was this dust the lowest grade of the regular grade, female fairies had much smaller quantities than males. It was sufficient though to do some basic magic and when Bea turned twelve she would finally be allowed to use her fairy dust and take the practical magic course at school. On Steven's birthday his parents had planned a great celebration. He received so many presents and they had an amazing meal. Then they had all gone to visit the Ancients to have him tested. It had been a very exciting day and Bea had enjoyed everything in spite of herself. Today, on her day, she was beaming with excitement and loving every moment as she saw her brother's face turn green with envy with every flutter of her wings.
"Stupid looking wings . . ." Steven muttered as he stuffed more toast in his mouth. Food for fairies was very unique. Everything around the fairies was made with dust, and that included food. The fairies worked hard to mimic what they saw on earth and manipulated the dust to create everything from BBQ chicken to salads to ice cream sundaes. The flavor; however, was always the same; a light, airy sweetness that swept through every corner of one's mouth when they ate. The flavors from earth were completely unknown to them since they had not been able to spend much time on earth for the past three hundred years. Bea loved eating this food created with dust and always felt a little bit happier and lively afterwards. She couldn't understand how Steven ate so quickly, simply stuffing food in his mouth.
"Shut up, loser! You're just sad because you don't have any wings and you can't fly!" Bea laughed at her brother.
Steven forced a laugh of his own. "Why would I want wings? Why would I want to look all girly and dainty? And who cares about flying, especially when someone looks at how great you proved to
be at it this morning?"
Bea's face flushed bright red. Bea shot out of her chair and, without even thinking, found herself right in front of her brother. She had intended to run over to punch him in the stomach as she usually would do, but apparently her wings had decided to help her in getting to her destination a little faster and she had flown over so that she was hovering right in front of his face with both of her hands tightly clenched into fists.
Mr. Featherstone reached over the table and grabbed Bea by the waist and pulled her back to his side.
"Stop it you two!" He glared particularly at Steven.
"Could the two of you try to hold off on the fighting, for just one day?" Mrs. Featherstone pleaded with both of them. "Besides you both need to be on your best behavior for our visit to the Ancients after breakfast."
"Why do we have to go see them?" Bea asked her mother. She didn't really like going to see the Ancients. They made her feel weird, like they were always staring at her no matter where she was. She had only seen them that one time, when she had gone with Steven on his birthday, but dream fairies were sort of taught from birth to revere the Ancients.
"Today they will look at your wings. You know that Bea," Mrs. Featherstone smiled at her to try to reassure her it would be OK. Bea had a feeling that maybe her mother didn't really like going to see the Ancients either.
The True Stories of Dream Fairies: Bloom Page 1
