November has been a month of stormy seas and still frosty mornngs.
It was Christmas Eve. In the shop window the fairy at the top of the tree gave a dress a shake, gently wriggled her wings and twinkled her wand, hoping some passer-by might see the sparkle. Many stopped to look but no-one came into the shop.
Then, just as the light was fading, a mother and small girl walked past. The child spotted her and stopped, transfixed. She opened her mouth to call out but with a sigh, closed it again. The mother, inappropriately named ‘Angel’ grasped her daughter roughly by the arm, giving her a shake.
‘Come on, Beyoncé, why do I always have to wait for you? What are you looking at now?’
The child pointed to the fairy.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, we don’t want an old-fashioned fairy like that. They had some really cool Lady Gage ones at Asda. Come on, or else they’ll be sold out.’
The afternoon passed, but despite the fairy’s twinkling, no-one seemed to want her until, just before closing, who should come into the shop but Angel and Beyoncé.
Angel looked cross: ‘Is that the only fairy you have? She turned to her daughter. ‘It’s your fault, you’re so slow. If I didn’t have to drag you with me all the time, they wouldn’t have been sold out.
So the fairy went home with Angel and Beyoncé. Angel looked at the fairy with distaste as she jammed her on the top of the tree with a ‘take that you slutty fairy’.
Well, thought the fairy, who was called Jezabel, I know who I think is the slutty one!
When her mother wasn’t in the room, Beyoncé came and whispered to her: ‘I think you are beautiful.’
Over Christmas, Jezabel became more and more unhappy watching Angel neglect and abuse her daughter. A slap from an inebriated Angel which sent Beyoncé crashing into the door, finally decided her. After the child had been sent to bed, she detached herself from the tree with a wave of her wand. She flew across to Angel, showering her with fairy dust, unable to resist adding a few sharp pokes with her wand.
The next morning, Beyoncé could not believe her eyes. The fairy, who seemed to have grown overnight, was sitting in her mother’s chair. Jezebel greeted the child with a smile and a big hug.
‘Happy Christmas Bea! Do you mind if I call you Bea, much nicer don’t you think than Beyoncé? Your mummy and I had a chat last night and I’m going to be your Mummy now. Oh, we’ll have such fun.
‘But where did Mummy go?’ asked Bea.
run fast, crystals
fly, ghosted into mist
spiralling across snow-covered
escaping yet pursued
by whip crack echoes, baying of
the troika runners skim
across polished ice, onwards,
with harmony, bells and
pulsating hoof-beats lead towards
the horizon, the goal
we must reach – sanctuary to live,