Bright Blessings

Flora plunged her fingers into the warm earth, rooting around with patient dedication. She turned up nothing. Rising to her feet, head slowly turning back and forth, she heard the scream again. They were always so difficult to locate, the earth muffling their cries. She spent another hour snaking her way back and forth through the forest. All the usual spots turned up nothing but worms and mulch. Head swivelling like a satellite dish, ears constantly pricked, she worked her way deeper under the canopy, back where the elders grew, Ancient oaks, once the hiding place of kings, great pines, the ancestral homes of dryads, and none sheltering the screamer amongst their sprawling roots. Pausing to drink deeply from the clear waters of a stream which flowed in tumbling delight from the mountains, she caught the scream once more. So close she felt she could reach out and touch it. Ah, of course, the willows. Long had they deserved their reputation as often playful, occasionally sp...

“What… is that?” It was the first sign of interest Blake had shown since he and Anna had arrived to look over the house. She couldn’t figure out why he was so disinterested in a free and clear home, an inheritance from her grandma. It rankled the more because Anna had so many happy memories of summers there. Following his gaze she spotted the tiny door set just above the wainscot, the teeny ladder which gave access. “Oh wow, I can’t believe it’s still there!” she cooed, clapping her hands in delight, “The fairy door!” “The what?” “I told you I used to stay here, summer holidays and that, right?” Blake nodded, his eyes wandering the room, judging and finding wanting. “Well, Grandma had a tribe of house fairies who used to come out and do the housework overnight. She always said it was how she managed to spend all day playing with us kids and still keep the house spotless.” “And you believed that? Geez, thought you had more sense.”   To hide the hurt, Anna kn...

These have always been known as pop flowers in my house ;) The cottage was isolated, three miles from her nearest neighbour and the thought set Cara’s heart racing. In the moments between darkness and dawn, shadows faded, light grew and ephemeral shapes crept about her bedroom. She knew them for what they were, the night ghosts slipping between worlds, uneasy in even the palest dawn glow, but she was yet pathetically grateful for the armful of dog with her in the middle of the bed.  Snaps grumbled low in his chest, straining a little at her hold on his collar. Both of them heard the movement again; a scraping and rustling from somewhere beyond the bedroom door. It was followed by a squeak, a muffled thud and the faint sound of speech. Cara held tight to Snaps, barely managing to silence his incipient barking with a hand around his muzzle. ‘Not now, Snaps, please. I know you are brave, and I know you want to see them off, but what if they are armed.’ Snaps’ liqui...

Cara shifted position, easing out her back, a little envious of Snaps who dozed happily in the shade of an overgrown pergola. Her spine spoke in sharp cracks, but she had promised herself she would finish cutting back the bramble patch before sunset. A glance at the sky revealed a rapidly sinking sun and the first blush of violet. Cara set to with a will. Five minutes, a pile of tangled, thorny debris and several new battle scars later, she sat back on her heels and stared at the odd little tableau her efforts had revealed. At the centre of the patch a smooth triangle of stone had been set up. Next to it, a toy-sized pickaxe sat buried in the earth. To Cara it looked uncomfortably like a memorial. Scratched into the stone were the words ‘Olla’s Gold’. The entire area was surrounded by orange flowers with vivid yellow centres. “What is this, Grace?”  She’d got into the habit of chatting to her late aunt, surprised by how often an answer to her question slipped a...