The Broken Wing Faerie
by Shanon Grey
The weekend had arrived, finally, after one long day after another of one more exhausting week. I was going to write. Really. But, after tackling the budget left me a little more than disgruntled, I decided there had to be more to Saturday than delegating my less than adequate income to more than demanding debts. Having seen a really cute faerie garden on Facebook, I figure today would be the day to put all my brilliant ideas into action.
Then I remembered my budget. Obviously, I couldn’t afford to turn my island into the faerie kingdom I’d envisioned. So, I settled on the idea of creating a tiny tabletop faerieland. Off to the craft store I went, husband in tow. Whew! Putting together a tabletop garden turned out to be more expensive than I’d figured. It would almost be cheaper to landscape the island in front of my house. Disheartened, I cut through the basket section. And, there it was. Just what I would have made myself, already done. I went over to the hodgepodge of items clumped together on a clearance shelf. Nestled in the middle was the very thing I’d had in mind. A little the worse for wear, but nothing I couldn’t fix. Plus, it was a fraction of what I’d have spent doing it from scratch.
Husband now toting my container garden, we scoured the store for the faerie to finish the project. The best they could do was some little foam two-dimensional cutout. That just wasn’t going to do. Fortifying my sweet spouse with Zaxby’s (okay, maybe it was more of a bribe), we set off on a scavenger hunt for a faerie. After searching through every craft and hobby shop, dollar store, thrift store, we settled in the car, hot and tired, ready to give up and head home.
“Maybe a tiny owl,” my darling husband suggestion.
As much as I love my owls, it just wasn’t the same. My husband, appropriately sympathetic and trying to cheer me up, asked if he could take me to the fabric store to get the trim I wanted. You can’t image how humbling it is to have him suggest that after his already arduous, unproductive day. Although I didn’t really feel up to it, I acquiesced and promised it wouldn’t take but a moment.
Garden project forgotten, we drove to the new fabric store in town. Heading toward the back, I glanced over and there on an end-cap was a tiny world of gnomes. Gnome houses, gnome benches, gnome garden tools. But no faeries. Sadly, I am just not a gnome kinda gal. I went on back, got what I needed, and was heading back up the aisle to check out, when something caught my eye. On a lower shelf, tucked back behind a gnome out-house, peeked a tiny face. A faerie face. I stopped so fast my hubby ran right into me, all six feet four inches of him. He caught me as I dove toward the floor, stopping me in midair – and face to face with the tiny faerie. I reached in and pulled her out of the pile of gnome paraphernalia, only to find she had a broken wing. I leaned down and sifted through each shelf — not another faerie to be found. Looking into her sweet, tiny face, I was smitten.
Being one who’s been known to bring home one stray after another, be it animal or human, what was one more, only this time it was a broken winged faerie. Holding her gently in the palm of my hand, I went to checkout and placed her on the counter.
“She’s broken,” the cashier said.
“I can’t let you buy her, she’s broken.” She picked her up and started to set her aside.
“Then, give me a discount for one broken winged faerie,” I said, stopping her.
“But, she’s broken,” she insisted.
Fortunately, the manager was at the other register and interceded for the bewildered girl. “How about a dollar?”
“Sold,” I said.
She’s home, nestled in her tiny home and you know what, you have to look really hard and then you still might not see her injured wing.
Who knows? Maybe it will heal.