Wings, Chapter 1

Here's what they tell you about being a fairy:

It's all about hope. That's what they say on the first day of lessons, that's why they sing about when you open your music book, and that's what rebounds off the waterfalls and leaves when you begin your first moulting.

Here's the truth about being a fairy:

It's all about what they don't tell you. For me at least that was the case. I don't fare well with realities, never have, and that's why I've caused such a mess. I never thought such a perfect dew of a world could be broken by such a persistent curiosity. But the interesting thing about the darkest places is that they shed the brightest light. And my perspective is ever shifted by simply wondering what lay beyond the walls, and loving someone who was never mine to love, but that song sung sweetly.

My name is Cara. I grew up in Adrendale, like all good fairy's do. It's a world away from our own, covered by a glassy orb and dense with waterfalls, colourful outfits of plants. Here is our home where we grow and are nurtured, to the times we leave on our missions, from the second we are born.

All fairy's are born innocently. From the bulb of flower blessed with love of a mother and father. Now, i'm not sure what other fairy realms exist, and I'm sure they do, but in this one, a fact rings true that may surprise you: We're all born without wings. It's true! When a fairy is born; from the back they look just like a good human child. A smooth clean back, a bumpy strong spine, limbs curled tightly, gleaming with a glow of tenacity and youth! The only thing that separates us of course would be our facial features which are shine brightly, and preach a divine and very spritely beauty. 

From our birth we are raised by our parents and educated about future duties by our winged elders. I was a good child and a good student.

A brilliant child actually. I'd brush my long blonde hair, and see wonder in the confines of the orb with my sparking green eyes. I'd jump rocks with my friends and twirl my toes in the glistening stream. 

As I grew older the older fairy's began to divulge the details of our mission to us. Bit by bit it was explained our duty as good fairies.

To cast a ray through a window

To show the glisten when rain falls

To shower magic through a secret chest

To weave wonder through the fog 

To create a sweet and open melody through all good children's ear

All colour, joy, and magic play when the good fairy's here. 

We were to make joy for the joyous, to bring peace to the peaceful, and open roads for those with the easy path. Our life was to be one of a painters brush and with that to create artistry unrivaled through all those who were good, lives. We cultivate colour, weave wonder,  we are forging childhood.

Before we can fulfil our duty though we must first fulfill our form, we must grow our wings in a process known as moulting. They don't talk about it for a reason. It is the curse for all this light, it is a dark we all close our ears to, and fail. As we come to learn, more than screams can penetrate through this blessed flesh.