Going Mad?
[The following post came about because of a peculiar inclination I had in the early, conceptual stages of Faeries Underfoot, in which I thought it would be cute to present this web site as if someone had literally discovered these Faeries in his back yard and set up a web site to chronicle their existence. In retrospect, this seems hokey. But, it is what it is. - Wicasta Lovelace]
I was sitting on the porch this morning, waiting for the dog to finish her business, when I started hearing the most bizarre sound. It sounded like a wounded animal of some sort, but I couldn’t quite place it. I realized quickly that the dog had heard it, too, so I called her back and put her in the house. Then I went into the yard to investigate.
It only took a moment to realize that something was lying underneath the big oak tree. I thought it was a bird at first, because it certainly had wings, but as I got closer I realized that it was very possible I had lost my mind. What was lying there on some leaves was a perfectly formed, tiny little woman, and with wings. She was frightened of me at first, but I squatted down and kept telling her that I wasn’t going to hurt her. She tried to crawl away from me at first, but was too weak. It was obvious that one of her wings was broken and she was in a great deal of pain.
I realize how insane this sounds. There’s nothing I can do about that. This is what it is. If I’m crazy at all, it’s for writing about this instead of keeping it all to myself. But I feel like this is a discovery that’s worth the risk of ridicule. How could I not talk about it?
She realized that I wasn’t going to hurt her, so I offered her my hands, cupped together. She looked around, as if hoping for other options, and then dragged herself into my hands. I picked her up gently and brought her into the house. As I write this, she’s sleeping soundly on a towel that I placed in a shoe box.
Well, I left out the part about setting her wing. I’m a little bewildered here. We had some vet tape that I’ve kept on-hand because of the birds that kept flying into the sliding glass doors, and I used that to set her wing. Lucky thing, too. I don’t know what I would have done without it. Where would I have taken her? The hospital? The vet? Either one would have likely meant I’d never see her again. And God only knows what would be done to her.
So far she hasn’t spoken. But sometimes she looks at me and random images start popping into my head. I can’t explain why, but I wonder if it’s her doing. It sounds crazy, but that feels right.
Well, I’m making a lot of noise typing, and my new friend has made it clear that it’s annoying her. I think I’m going to go elsewhere and let her get some rest. I imagine I’ll have plenty to write about this later.