The Ghost of the Fairy Prince

“If fairies don’t have souls, then what happens to them when they die?”

My nephew asked the question, and I turned to him to answer. But I stopped in the midst of taking a breath, for I saw that he was turned away from me, toward his grandfather, the storyteller.

I studied fairies for my profession. My nephew knew this. But he also knew that I had no spellbinding stories tell.

Except that this time, I did. For I had seen a fairy die once. A prince, he was. He glittered like a star.

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Brother Winter

“Who is he?”

Father chuckled, but I knew I must say something, for Ida had asked the question in earnest.

“He isn’t anybody,” I said. “He’s just a snowman.”

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Finden’s Egg Pocket

Finden was a young man who wanted to go out into the world, to travel, find adventure, see spectacular sights, and meet all manner of people (especially lovely girls and heroic men). He worked at his father’s shop until he had saved up enough money to take his first trip beyond his province. Perhaps even beyond the borders of the kingdom. He told his father of his plans one day, and he respectfully declined his inheritance. His father accepted this, but he told Finden to wait a year before he set off. For there was another inheritance due to the firstborn upon reaching the nineteenth year.

Finden was insistent on leaving that very month. So his father took him aside and told him the secret of their family’s moderate yet certain success. His father showed him a pair of trousers.

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