We dance under the wires, fairy legs, fairy feet, can’t touch, won’t touch! Here we are, making our way through. They think the wire can keep us? We are the Folk; we are the ones with dreams and sight. We are the makers of wonder; we slide into the children at night.
Put up your wires, just try, we will still come.
You can’t end or break us; we are spun silver, we are riddle, we are gold.
In the morning, the children sit at their desks and under the drone of This and That, they draw the marvels we gave them last night.
I actually posted a different story for this prompt at first, but then wrote another one because the first one made me sad. I realised I get to do that—change my mind, change the ending. I am a writer! I choose Path B.
This is a 100-word story written for the Friday Fictioneers, an international writing community hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The photo prompt comes from Madison Woods. If you’d like to join the Fictioneers this week, click here. To read this week’s stories, please click here.
I haven’t been here for a couple of weeks, and I am sorry to have missed two whole story cycles! It is lovely to be back.