In the middle of a small town, an asteroid fell to earth.
It struck the earth so hard it left a crater with a 25 meter radius, destroying a blocks worth of buildings, and leaving multiple people injured (though thankfully none killed). However, the object itself was barely the size of a fist! Because it was so small, it didn't register as dangerous to any nearby satellites while it was in orbit, nor to the people operating astronomical instruments on the ground. All that was initially known to the team of geologists and astronomists who came to the site of the crash was that the object had to be incredibly dense, denser than possibly any other fallen object of its size, and that all life on earth had to be so lucky that it was so small.
For a full 25 hours, teams of people worked tirelessly to determine the objects properties - when it wasn't determined as radioactive, or housing extraterrestrial bacteria, or otherwise detrimental to life, it was broken open to reveal... Beef. Petrified ground beef, with traces of oregano, parsley, garlic, breadcrumbs, egg, salt, pepper, and a dash of paprika. Each person at the site was completely baffled - how did such an object come to meet these circumstances? Could an alien civilisation somehow have the same access to all of these very earth-bound ingredients? Was it possible that the sum of the objects parts were being created deep in the heart of the universe? And how could it have created such a gigantic amount of collateral damage, with such little mass?
The truth was revealed when asking around the town. In a little red house a few streets over, a woman told one of the confused geologists about a story from her childhood. 25 years ago, during an intense windstorm, a little girl was engaged in an intense food fight with her brothers over a dinner of spaghetti and meatballs. At the climax of the fight, the girl prepared to launch a meatball off of her fork, intending to hit her eldest brother in the face, but she instead became distracted by her mother, calling the children to knock it off before someone got hurt. In that moment, the meatball was shot through an accidentally open window, and completely blown away. When she went to try and find it the next day to clean up the mess, it was nowhere to be found. She concluded that the high winds must've carried it into the upper atmosphere through a series of incredibly coincidental updrafts and ricochets off larger objects. And there above the stratosphere it sat, waiting, catching cosmic detritus, watching over the earth like a hibernating angel, until the earth's gravity finally pulled it back home. Its protective shell of space junk must've been broken and burnt away as it plummeted faster and faster into the earth; and as it grew smaller and tighter, and it's velocity increased, it's mass must've also increased dramatically, causing such a huge impact.
"So it's not an asteroid at all?" The geologist, washed with clarity and relief.
"Nope," said the woman, "I guess it's a little meatier."
After my best friend died I became jealous of the fireflies and kept smashing them against my forehead. I wanted my loneliness to be visible to those I loved. For people to see the yellow balloons I hid in my lungs. What I’m saying is I couldn’t breathe for an entire year. When they tore down her elementary school, we all lined up, days later, for bricks. We held them against our bodies. I’d like to think this is how we embrace our ghosts. Years later, it took my grandfather three days to die. I grew so bored I left to get ice cream. In the car, with the July sun soaking my back, I let my tongue protest death. Hours after my grandfather died, I wanted to take a photo of his body. His skin the color of faded marigolds. As a child, when my goldfish died I mourned the entire ocean. My father told me children in Palestine die every day. Hours before dying from cancer, Jim said take care of yourself. I said you too. When I visit graveyards now, all I see is grass and grass and grass. I think about how it takes forever to get to nowhere. Maybe I’ve outlived my life. And would like to become a bird. Dear God. Dear Earth. Dear Clouds. Why should anything die? I want it all to live forever. What I mean is I want to stand in my garden and gaze at the sunflowers. Amen.
Once, not too long ago, in a land closer than you’d believe, there stood a village at the outskirts of a vast, sprawling forest.
In the near centre of the forest, built into a tree stump the size of a dining table, was a shrine made of gold. It glimmered in the daylight and shone in the rain. It never rusted or melted or even got dirty - for in that shrine lived a powerful, benevolent fairy.
One day, a girl made her way to the centre of the forest. She trudged through brambles and blackberries, scratching her legs. She passed under sticks and spiderwebs, mussing up her hair. She jumped through puddles and pits, staining her clothes.
When she finally reached the shrine, she lay down a small dish of butter and called out to the fairy. The fairy, tempted, approached the girl and her dish. When it picked up the dish, the girl spoke.
“I heard you can grant wishes?” She asked.
The fairy nodded slowly, tilting its head as though to listen better.
“Please,” The girl spoke, “I wish to be strong. So that I may help my mother and father in the fields. It is their wish, so it will be mine.”
The fairy, satisfied with the demand, rubbed its hands together, closed its eyes, and clicked its heels three times. The girl felt invigorated, like she could wrestle tigers and move mountains. She curtesied and thanked the fairy; it nodded a thanks and retreated back to the shrine.
The girl went home. Her parents were disappointed at her tattered clothes and cuts and bruises, but loved that she could knead bread, milk cows, churn butter, clean and cook and butcher animals without tire. She would work day and night, only stopping to eat and sleep. And because they were happy, she was happy.
———
Years passed, and once again the girl made her way into the centre of the forest. She trampled through brambles and blackberries, scratching her calves. She smacked away sticks and spiderwebs, mussing up her hands. She jumped over puddles and pits, staining the hem of her dress.
When she finally reached the shrine, she lay down a bowl of butter and called out to the fairy. The fairy, recognising the girl, came and sat down with her and the bowl, taking messy, excited handfuls of butter and eating them. Then the girl spoke.
“Can you grant me another wish?” She asked.
The fairy paused, cleaned its hands, and prepared to listen.
“Please,” The girl spoke, “I wish to be beautiful. So that I may find a suitor, and relieve my family of the burden of caring for me. It is their wish, so it will be mine.”
The fairy, in a near rush, stood and stretched out its arms, turned down its head, and clicked its heels two times. The girl felt light, and watched in a nearby pool as her face grew thinner and softer, her hair grew longer and shinier, and her limbs and hands became more slender. She bowed and thanked the fairy; it waved a thanks and retreated quickly back to the shrine.
The girl went home. Her family was once again disappointed by the cuts and scrapes she had endured, but now found her charming and sweet. She was married within the week, to a man with a large fortune, who proclaimed his love with a shiny gold ring. He loved her not just for her looks, but for her diligent housekeeping and field-tending. And because he was happy, she was happy.
———
Years passed, and once again the girl made her way into the centre of the forest. She traipsed through brambles and blackberries, scratching her ankles. She swatted away sticks and spiderwebs, mussing up her fingers. She jumped across puddles and pits, staining her stockings.
When she finally reached the shrine, she lay down a barrel of butter and called out to the fairy. The fairy, relieved to see an old friend, placed itself on top of the barrel, crossing its legs. Then the girl spoke.
“You know I’m here for another wish…” She said.
The fairy nodded, took her hand, and listened.
“Please,” The girl spoke, “I wish to be wise. So that I may understand what is causing my husband such distress. It is his wish, so it will be mine.”
The fairy, solemnly, beckoned the girl closer to the barrel, kissed her forehead, and clicked its heels once. The girl felt a warmth blaze through her mind, and she felt she could empathise, calculate, and analyse with more efficiency than ever before. She hugged the fairy in thanks; It hugged her even tighter, and took the barrel back into the shrine.
The girl went home. Her husband was displeased at her tattered skin and clothes, but he found himself impressed by his wife’s newfound ability to keep up with his conversation and demands; her desire to please him, and the ability to predict what he wanted when he wanted it. And he was happy…
…But the girl was no longer happy. Her new intelligence had shown her what deep, unattainable demands she was completing, without a care. Her body was never tired, and her figure was never tarnished, and there was no problem she couldn’t solve - but inside, she was exhausted, and ruined, and stupid.
———
In the coming weeks, she tried to talk to her husband about her encounters with the fairy, in the hope that maybe they could work towards an equal partnership, so they could both be happy. But he wouldn't hear it - from the mere mention of the fairy, his face grew stark-cold. He turned on her, growing larger and angrier, forcing hand and knee and tooth onto her in rage. And so, fast as she could, she grabbed a thimble of butter and made her way into the centre of the woods. She ran, ran over the brambles and blackberries. She ran, ran under the sticks and spiderwebs. She ran, ran across the puddles and pits.
She collapsed at the foot of the shrine, crying out to the fairy, thimble of butter held in her fingertips. She could hear her husband closing in, stomping loud footsteps, screaming like the braying of a boar. The fairy, sweetly, pulled her up to meet her at the doorway of the shrine.
For a time, no words were spoken. There was just the patience of the fairy, the silent tears of the girl, and the carnage of the husband, shouting and slashing his way closer. Then, shakily, the girl spoke.
“Please!” She begged, “Give me a pair of wings, so that I may fly to distant shores, away from the work, away from the dissatisfaction, away from the pain! It is my wish and my wish alone, but it is one I wish with all my heart and soul!”
The fairy, understanding, lovingly, kindly, embraced the girl, grabbing her shoulder blades, holding her close, and kissed her long and tight, as though they were lovers. There was a white hot light, and a beautiful warmth, as a pair of golden dove wings sprouted from the girls shoulders, right where the fairy had placed its hands. They continued to grow, larger and larger, stronger and stronger, until they were large and strong enough to carry horses into the air.
The fairy, sadly, finally, let go of the girl. And she took off, high into the sky, far above the forest.
The beast that the girl had once called her husband had reached the foot of the tree stump that carried the shrine. In his rage, he did not look up; he only saw straight ahead. He saw that a cruel, mischevious, malicious fairy had turned his wife against his better judgement and authority. He saw the gaudy, repugnant, golden shrine, meant to mock him own fortune. He saw the thimble of butter - the butter he had bought the cows for, so his wife could churn it, so that he could sell it. All around him, he saw traitors.
With all his strength, and all his fury, he struck his knife through the tree stump, cutting through the wood like cheese. As though by magic, a large crack appeared in the foundation of the shrine. He kept carving, one long, thick slice bisecting the stump, and the crack on the shrine continued to creep up from the foundation, slithering up and around, branching all across the structure.
In a quick moment, the stump was cut clean in two; the fairy ducked back into the shrine; and the building collapsed.
Satisfied with the pile of rubble that stood before him, the husband called for the girl. But she would not answer. He searched for her, far and wide through the clearing. But he could not find her. He shouted, and chided, and demanded that she follow him home. But she did not. In the following days, the village searched for her, all across the forest, even into the surrounding towns, all the way down to the shoreline. But she never appeared.
———
Years passed, as they do. The husband, the family, and the whole village mourned the girl, then forgot about her. In her place, stood a piece of advice - one whispered by old women to those in hardship.
If you wander into the forest, past the brambles and blackberries, past the sticks and spiderwebs, past the puddles and pits, you may find a cottage in a small clearing. Living in that cottage is a woman, who spends her days tending to her cows, as well as a sapling with a gold ring around its trunk, and a saucer of butter by its roots. The woman who lives there is stronger than an ox, more beautiful than a sunrise, and wiser than a poem, but most importantly she is kind, and sweet, and will love you for your authenticity.
And the golden feathers she drops might grant you a wish of your own.
