Moonchild, A Faerie's Tale

Moonchild, A Faerie's Tale

A Story by Neal
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Episode 3: Consumption. Moonchild and Eleanor's family survived the fire, but the biggest battle is coming. The faerie faces her fears concerning her human friend when the doctor arrives.

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            Moonchild watched as the storm’s lingering scud steadily succumbed to the sun’s life-giving rays. Exposed beneath the clearing sky, she saw the dawning light reveal thick smoke, disorder, and destruction; people running, burning timbers crashing; injured cattle bawling, horses whinnying; pain and suffering for both man and beast. In recollection, Moonchild evoked the naïve notion she had supposed during the storm’s approach�"the possibility of the stormy night becoming a happy, sunny day�"happy days are well nigh impossible despite the sun’s smiling grace. 

Moonchild flew tiredly, dolefully from the barn-burning commotion, undetected by the family and neighbors. She remained unseen by all the nonbelievers, so invisible to everyone but Eleanor. She fluttered over to the birdbath in a stealthy wandering flight path on the outside chance of an inquisitive half-believing youngster. She stopped to recline and blend into the bath’s base, reluctantly turning back to regard the human turmoil.

Eleanor, embraced in her mother’s lap, leaned forward to peer around neighbor John’s legs who stood betwixt the little girl and subdued faerie. Both playmates were wholly drained, and there was no sense of emotion exchanged between them across the chaotic way.

A young man examined the family’s wounds suffered during the firefight in turn. He dressed Master’s punctures and checked Elizabeth’s leg. He then turned to Joseph and mother, but they passed by attention with both referring to little Eleanor’s needs. The man applied clean cloths to Eleanor’s wounds on her elbow and knee. He worried over her head wound and remarked over its swift healing. He looked long into her eyes turning her head from side to side and up and down. After looking over mother and Joseph and satisfied with the family’s present condition, the young man briskly strode across the yard and set forth on his swift, well-spirited steed.

With their neighbors taking control of the fire, the family made their way for rest inside their home. Innately sensing Eleanor’s scrutiny, Moonchild rose up from the birdbath, flittered across the lawn, through the hedge, over the sundial, past her rocky burrow to settle down on the brook’s bank deep within her secluded copse.

Moonchild waded into the water up to her knees. The current tugged at her ecru gown’s train, trailing milky streamers in the brook’s wake. She carefully cleansed the smoke, soot, and grime from her tiny body and once again, her gown gleamed filmy chartreuse.

Moonchild remained motionless there in the shallows, and she bent over, staring at her wavering water reflection. Her tears dropped noiselessly into the brook’s flow without disturbing or mixing into the water. The tears became glimmering crystals as they fell to the brook’s gravelly bottom, there swirling around the pebbly stones, mixing with sand grains, falling and tumbling as they washed downstream. Moonchild faced�"finally confronted�"the truth of Eleanor’s condition she had sensed but had suppressed from herself. She knew now Eleanor had some disease and didn’t know what to do about helping her human friend.

Moonchild returned to the hectic barnyard to observe and to remain unobserved. The neighbors continued to relay and pour water on the few flames persisting in the barn’s rubble and repaired fence gaps to retain the recently captured farm animals. As she watched, she heard a familiar animal’s sound nearby�"a mewing.

Investigating, Moonchild saw with relief that it was Orangecat, all securely curled up in a pocket of tall grass in Moonchild’s tame wilds. The mother cat was safe and sound, bearing not a mark, and feeding all five healthy kittens. Moonchild gave a silent gesture of greetings.

Not long afterwards, Moonchild watched as a well-kept man wearing a black round-topped hat hurriedly arrive on a tidy black carriage drawn by a shiny bay mare. Moonchild did not recognize this man. He walked up carrying a small black bag onto the porch and without announcement or invitation made straight into the house. Moonchild wanted to desist observation, but she could not resist.

Mindful of the many unfamiliar people about, Moonchild cautiously fluttered into the Christmas holly bushes flanking the porch. She flew up to the railing and hid at the porch post where the pixies had misplaced the master’s jackknife months ago. She remembered the exciting cooperation to solve the dilemma between believing and non-believing humans, gracious faerie and thieving, troublesome pixies. Such happy times seemed so distant now.

She flitted to the windowsill and peeked through the glass. The visitor held his hat and bag in one hand and clasped mother’s hand with the other. Mother called him doctor. Moonchild heard them discussing the master’s pierced leg and Elizabeth’s damaged leg. Mother told him of Eleanor’s healed head and said something about the little girl’s chest, enfolding her arms about herself.

The doctor said something Moonchild didn’t hear before or understand, but a portion of her comprehended. Mother wrung her hands and hung her head. The doctor laid a gentle hand on her forearm. He asked to see master first.

Mother led the doctor upstairs. Moonchild’s focus changed from the scene inside to her own translucent reflection on the glass. Not much contented glow emitted from her tiny form. She glimpsed for the first time her own injury�"the missing wing tip. It didn’t bother Moonchild at all; she flipped her wings once slowly, flitted twice rapidly. She had already intuitively adjusted her flight to compensate and knew it would, in all due time, grow back.      

Moonchild squeezed through her entry portal and warily shadowed the adult pair rising up the stairs. In the master’s bedroom, she flickered into a dark corner and waited. The doctor pulled back the sheet that covered the master’s leg. Master complained that mother made more to this injury than necessary as the doctor carefully unwrapped the cloths the young man had applied earlier.

Moonchild had seen human wounds and understood much. Master’s wounds amounted to three red, swollen punctures with blue-black bruising around the punctures. One began to ooze lifeblood. Master said it didn’t hurt that badly, and that he needed to attend to his animals. The doctor advised master that he had many faithful friends and neighbors attending the chores of animals and farm, and he needed to sit tight. Doctor voiced concern over continued cleanliness of the wounds though added master was lucky to have saved his thighbone.

Master expressed humiliation over his rash actions. The doctor reassured him by saying that people often make mistakes during tragic events they would never make under any other circumstances. Moonchild recalled her own confusion when warning the family of the fire. She could have told them much faster, she scolded herself. Mother asked about infection. Doctor turned to her and agreed that infection was indeed the poser to fret over on a daily basis. The doctor thoroughly cleansed the three wounds on the front of the leg and the one on back. He said that the wounds looked good now, but he would return on the morrow to change the bandages. The doctor covered master’s leg with the sheet and pointed at him sternly, telling him to remain in bed today for tomorrow was another day.

Moonchild followed the doctor and mother to Eleanor and Elizabeth’s room. Eleanor flickered a slight smile at Moonchild’s entry but sobered at the doctor’s attention. Moonchild then remained low along the baseboards hugging the shadows. Elizabeth sat on the bed’s edge reading a book with a jaunty rabbit on the cover. Eleanor lay in bed quietly but reached up to touch her chest.

“Hello, fine ladies.” The doctor greeted the girls kindly. “Such a terrible thing, the fire. I heard you two fought it bravely and received minor injuries to prove your worth. I am Doctor Welling here to tend your wounds. Who would like to be examined first?” He looked from Elizabeth to Eleanor.

 They looked awkwardly at one another and then to mother. No one answered.

Mother spoke up. “Elizabeth’s leg was hurt, and she is already sitting up.”

 The doctor agreed with a look from mother. He bent over taking particular notice of Elizabeth’s book. “That is a jolly bunny on the cover of your book there, what is his name?”

“Peter Rabbit,” Elizabeth stated matter-of-fact. “The book was a gift from my Uncle Neal who visited England recently. It is a very popular book there, authored by Beatrix Potter.”

“Very special to get a book from England. Special indeed,” said the doctor. “Now Elizabeth, tell me which leg hurts.”

At first Elizabeth said, “Both.” But then she indicated her right. “This one hurts worse.”

The doctor lifted Elizabeth’s sleep gown to above her knees and examined the bleeding scrape and heavy discoloration on her shin and lower thigh. Moonchild watched as the doctor gently squeezed her leg in steps downward.  Elizabeth winced and grabbed his hand at her knee, but then let him continue. He moved her leg to check the knee motions and finally cleaned the scrape with a gingerly touch. Moonchild walked under the dresser and watched closer. In her experience, she found men and boys were rough and unfeeling, and so less inclined to believe in fairies and the like, but this man was different, with a most pleasing demeanor.  

Mother described the story of the fire as he proceeded.

“You were quite the brave girl, but I am so sorry to hear about your calf,” he said with sincerity.

Moonchild saw Elizabeth’s eyes grow glassy, and the girl shed long, drippy but silent tears.

The doctor stopped examining her leg and looked at her with a cheerful expression.

“Well Elizabeth, despite the pain you are fine, but you will have some nasty looking bruises called contusions. These will be black and blue soon and then become quite colorful.” He smiled with a hand on her shoulder, and he asked quietly almost in a whisper, “Do you think you need some medicine?”

Both girls turned with shocked expressions. He reached into his bag and produced a bright red sucker. Elizabeth’s eyes lit up while giving him a huge smile.

“Remember your manners, Elizabeth,” Mother said.

Elizabeth added a genteel, “Thank you, doctor,” and slid the sucker into her mouth.

Moonchild smelled the sweet sugary aroma, and thought she wouldn’t mind a taste of that medicine herself.

“Can Elizabeth walk on the leg?” Mother asked.

He turned to Elizabeth and replied, “Yes, you can walk on it but no running or jumping for a few days.” He emphasized with a pointed finger. “And the abrasions could be painful if anything but lightweight clothing touched it, so be cautious and wear loose dresses.”

Moonchild watched as doctor and mother glanced toward Eleanor, and his face fell.

“Perhaps young lady Elizabeth could check in with her father while mother is here,” the doctor said. “You could read to him from your rabbit book.”

This made Elizabeth smile, and she hurried out of the bedroom

Moonchild flittered up to above Eleanor’s headboard to watch.

The doctor leaned over Eleanor. “So, Eleanor, did you go inside the burning barn?”

“No, doctor,” she said quietly.

He held her chin and examined her head. “Huh. You sure do heal quickly, Eleanor. How did wound on your head scab over so fast?  Are you sure you received the blow to the head today?”

Eleanor, experienced in telling fibs when it came to Moonchild, looked up at the faerie and Moonchild shrugged. Eleanor shrugged. Mother and doctor looked at each other and shrugged. Eleanor laughed at the antics but immediately started coughing.

The doctor furrowed his brow. “So, if not in the barn, were you in the thick smoke?”

She shook her head and put a finger to her cheek. “Do I need some medicine?”

“If you are a good girl,” Doctor Welling said seriously.

Moonchild thought he was getting out some sweet medicine, but instead, he withdrew a strange looking shiny and black tubular device. Eleanor pulled the bed sheet up to her nose.

“Don’t be afraid, Eleanor,” he said. “I’m going to listen to your breathing and heart.” He placed the shiny button end to her chest. Moonchild thought his actions were curious, and she didn’t twig. “Now, take long and deep breaths.”

As she did, he listened on both her chest and back. Moonchild heard the wheeze she recognized as Eleanor’s, just like when she played vigorously.

“How long has she had this sound when she breathed?” The doctor asked mother.

Mother replied, “For the past year or so and…” She clasped her hands and let the thought drop.

He laid a hand on Eleanor’s head for a few seconds being careful of her wound, and then he withdrew a watch from his vest pocket and held her wrist. After several moments, he dropped his watch back into his pocket; he furrowed his brow, sighed, and looked at mother. Moonchild didn’t understand the look, and she fluttered to the other side of headboard. Eleanor caught her movement and watched Moonchild out of the tops of her eyes, smiling.

“What are you watching up there, Eleanor?” Doctor asked.

Moonchild shrugged. Eleanor giggled and shrugged, ruffling the pillow scrunched around her shoulders.

Mother and Doctor smiled with grim expressions. He closed his bag, and stood up from the edge of the bed.

“So, my most excellent patient,” the doctor said. “Do you think you need some medicine?

Eleanor nodded vigorously. He reopened his bag and drew out an orange sucker.

“My favorite color, like the morning sun,” Eleanor said happily. “Thank you, doctor.”

“You are very welcome, my fine little lady,” Doctor Welling said, patting her shoulder.

After the doctor and mother walked out, Moonchild fluttered down to stand on the rolled up blanket edge as Eleanor put the sucker in her mouth.

“I never saw that before. What did he do to you?” Moonchild asked.

“Just checking to see if I’m sick. My chest makes noise all the time, but I feel okay. My tummy and head aren’t sore,” Eleanor said, putting a hand to her stomach.

Moonchild didn’t say what she had determined about Eleanor. Instead, she said, “the doctor didn’t say you had to stay in bed did he? He was very stern with master about resting in bed.”

“He was?”

“Yes, something about his wounds getting worse.”

“Hmmm, hmmm and Elizabeth too with her sore leg, so I must be fine to play!”  Eleanor said.

“What about that sweet medicine thing there,” Moonchild said, pointing at the sucker in Eleanor’s mouth.

“Hmmm, medicine,” said Eleanor with a sly smile.

“Is it medicine?” Moonchild asked seriously.

“No, silly little faerie, you know about sweets and sugar. Have a taste.” Eleanor held the sucker out for Moonchild who reached out for the treat that was as long as she was tall.

“No, sticky!” Eleanor warned, but it was too late. Moonchild grabbed hold while taking a few licks.

“Ooooohhhh! Delicious.”

“Now, your hands are too,” Eleanor said, giggling as Moonchild struggled to release her stuck hands.

“Well, I need to go,” Moonchild said abruptly, flying up while licking her hands.

“What? Don’t go. We can play until Elizabeth comes back.”

“Just going out for a little while,” Moonchild waved and zoomed out of the bedroom. She heard the doctor and mother downstairs and Elizabeth was still with master, so Moonchild continued down to the entry foyer where doctor and mother whispered.

Mother appeared pale and asked, “Are you sure?”

“Quite sure, I’ve seen cases of this. It may take some time but in the end…”

“No, no, it isn’t true. She looks healthy, shiny, and her eyes are so bright.”

“That’s the problem with the early stages of consumption. The victims look very healthy and the disease overtakes them little by little until they finally�"succumb.”

Mother began to sob and the doctor wrapped one arm around her shoulder. Moonchild ventured closer to the adult pair.

“Do you want me to tell your husband?” He asked.

“No, no, I must be the one to tell him,” Mother said.

Suddenly, the doctor turned with a shock. “Oh, my no!” He said, looking about the room and entryway. “I smell orange sucker. I hope poor little Eleanor didn’t follow and eavesdrop on us.” The two searched around but found no one. Moonchild looked at her hands and flittered away, back up to Eleanor.

“Ah, there you are my sweet-handed faerie,” Eleanor said grinning.

“Yes, I am so sweet and sticky,” agreed Moonchild. “Eleanor,” she said soberly. “I must go away for awhile�"to visit relatives.”

“Relatives?” Eleanor said, scrunching up her face. “I didn’t know fairies had relatives.”

“Of course we do, silly little human child,” Moonchild said, forcing herself to be jovial.

“How long will you be gone?”

“Oh, not long, several days though. I need to get help for a�"a problem,” Moonchild said looking aside.

“Can I help?” Eleanor asked.

“No, not this time, my dear sunny friend,” Moonchild fluttered up and gave Eleanor’s cheek a faerie-sized embrace and a tiny kiss. “See you soon!” she said, and zoomed out the door. She knew the blue moon must smile on them if she was to be successful.

© 2011 Neal


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colorful, funny with a hint of drama. As always a good addition to an already growing story

Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on March 11, 2011
Last Updated on March 11, 2011

Author

Neal
Neal

Castile, NY



About
I am retired Air Force with a wife, two dogs, three horses on a little New York farm. Besides writing, I bicycle, garden, and keep up with the farm work. I have a son who lives in Alaska with his wife.. more..

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