TWO fairies were fighting over a flower pot. The mistress of the household had secured a plant, taking it from the garden, resettling it into a decorative urn. With this new immigrant came also its companion-planted fairy, that had now unwittingly happened into the territory of a very spiteful spindly limbed creature, who protested the new arrival of both.
The defensive householder fairy had not seen much of the outdoors in quite a few decades. An elemental being, whose consciousness was now defined within the walls of this house, was prideful of each placement of treasured article; ever watching over the comings and the goings. You could often see her chasing the walls, taking an inventory repeatedly. Now, here came this being from the garden! Swanning in upon a couch of green fern! Idle! Carefree! And enjoying the newly acquired decorator plant pot in her lounge room!!!
A week or so later the plant began to fail. At first it appeared to be lacking just water, but it was more than that - being mournful in consideration of the sadness for its partner in being, who too was fading in this lounge room.
Disparaged and forlorn, the unwanted immigrant longed for the garden she had come from. She despaired from the tirades of the protective objectionable other. Possibly her worst day came when the liquid fertilizer was administered. All the while the household creature spat and screamed at her, wailed and complained, and stamped her tiny foot, doing all that she could for the tempers to succeed and evacuate her from the house.
Well the plant was returned to the soil, even though by all appearances there wasn't much hope, considering its dry brown frailty. However, after a rain or two and a morning elixir, both the creature and its living greenness were restored.
Some time after, the mistress of the house became quite ill herself. One said that it was something she had 'caught' and another speculated that she had simply 'run herself down', but the larger truth of it was that the agitated fairy had overbearingly affected her good nature, by proximity and through relationship, infecting the house and its owner with a sickness of soul.
The mistress, of course, had ever been prideful of her house in the past. But now, due to the illness, had not the strength to keep it tidy and did not even appreciate, as before, the adorning placements. The knick-knacks were no longer an inspiration to her. The curtains looked depleted, and she preferred them now open, to the fabric's pattern as before. Yes, the window with its aspect in the garden appealed to her much more now, than what the inside had to offer.
Her home became a confine to her, and not the 'palace' she had once felt it to be. She, like the ferny fairy, longed to be outside; longed to move away from the materialism she once had built her life around.
While she slept, the householder fairy busied herself, including the woman in her inventory check, satisfying herself that she remained housebound - telling herself that this was because she loved her so much. And the mistress dreamed, yet woke too tired to recall the better parts of these dreams, seeing only the dull and troubled mirror of her life.
Now and then the garden fairy would shy up to the window and look in. She understood this sickness herself, and wished for the woman the healing she had known. She called upon her friends and sought for help.
Three days later there was a visitor at the door. Under his arm was a brown paper bag with a fruit bun within, and in the other hand a tissue-clad bouquet of flowers. Every flower, every stem with bud, had a living child of virtue - a rosy faced, violet eyed fairy - a congregation of happiness.
When she got better, as bettered she did, the gentleman visitor returned and took her to many places. Some were scenic nature-type places and some were other buildings and houses which naturally were different to her own.
She later was to move in with him - took a few books with her, but for the bulk of the furniture, ornaments and so forth, she gave it all away to coveting relatives and neighbors, finally relinquishing the remains to a garage sale.
On moving day, when the house was emptied and suitably cleaned, she took one last look through the doorway into the vacant lounge room. She did not know how long to reminisce, what was an appropriate time to say goodbye … and could not have consciously realized or seen the little figure in the corner, that she was, at least in part, saying goodbye to. You see, the householder fairy could not go with her, it came with the house. It could not bring itself to venture outside of those doors, for it was not within that tiny nature that was her.