November 2012
The top of the Christmas tree reached to within inches of the ceiling. At the top of the tree the fairy stood proud and serene, as she had for the past five years; her bright tinsel tiara upon her head and her slightly bent magic wand in her hand. But five years of being stuffed casually into a black bin bag on twelfth night with the rest of the decorations was taking its physical toll on the fairy and she knew that she could not expect to occupy the top spot for very much longer.
She looked around her and realised how much she loved this home, but like many things she expected that it was all coming to an end, she could not help being shabby . . .
Gossamer sighed. Now was the time to do something about her life; what, she was not sure of, but definitely something. Since her hook had fallen off she had to suffer prickles up her skirt - no wonder she had holes in her tights. The star on her wand was wonky and her bottom felt real itchy and as she fidgeted Gossamer held her wand more tightly. She felt that there was still a small bit of magic left in the wand and she did not want to drop it. A fairy with no wand was certainly not a fairy. She watched the cat prowling around the tree; he seemed to know which of the decorations were really magic, how - she did not know. She would have to keep her eyes on him as indeed he seemed to be watching her. She remembered the Christmas that he had caught a mouse and how he had sat in front of the fire batting it backwards and forwards between his paws. She shivered as she felt the image replay again in her head.
Gossamer watched as some more presents were placed under the tree the branches swayed and she fell. She landed softly next door to the golden angel and its bell softly rang out. 'Oh! excuse me I am so sorry,' said Gossamer. The angel just watched her in amazement; none of the decorations were allowed to move on the tree. But she was starting to feel good and at least some of the prickles in her tights had disappeared; this increased her determination that she was not going to end up at the rubbish dump. She watched and waited patiently. Her journey was only just beginning. Suddenly the children appeared and Gossamer froze as they placed their presents around the back of the tree.
The bells on the tree rang out again and as the tree moved Gossamer jumped and landed next to the little fat snowman. She managed to get a hand on to her tinsel tiara and her wand, but she noticed the star was now really hanging on by a thread and her skirt was torn and ripped.
She apologised to the snowman as she had gently knocked him. But the snowman was taking no notice of her. He was crying and tears were running down his face and off the end of his carrot nose, which definitely was more crooked than her wand. 'What on earth is the matter?' Gossamer asked. 'I am sorry I knocked you.'
The snowman looked at her and she noticed his tears were leaving tracks down his face; the warmth of them had started to melt his face. 'That's all right,' said the snowman; 'the family have put Mrs. Snow in the waste paper bin,' he sobbed. 'I am left all on my own.'
Gossamer crawled to the edge of the tree and hung on for dear life. She peered over and there sure enough was Mrs. Snow in amongst the orange peel and Brazil nut shells. She looked so unhappy and so uncomfortable. The snowman continued to sob saying that at least he thought that they would always have been together, Mrs. Snow did not know her way about - she would get lost without him.
Gossamer sighed; she had wanted her little adventure to be a happy one, but the fairy king and queen obviously had other plans for her. She crawled back to the snowman collecting more stupid prickles and more holes in her tights; her head jerked back as the tinsel of her tiara hooked on a shiny red glass bauble. Carefully she reached up and unhooked it. Gossamer sighed again she now felt sure that she looked like a little rag doll, she looked in the red ball and saw that indeed she looked more like the wicked witch of the north than a fairy. The fact that she still had her tiara on, that was a miracle in itself.
Gossamer spoke to Mr. Snow and said that she would go and see if there was something she could do for his wife and at last his sobs stopped and changed to noisy sniffles. The cat was still on the prowl and she was sure it was the snowman sobbing that was attracting him. Gossamer slowly worked her way back to the edge of the tree knowing that her choice to get to Mrs. Snow was either to jump or slowly work her way to the middle of the tree and climb down the trunk. But the children of the house quickly made a different choice for her. As they squeezed and prodded the presents under the tree, it shook again and off she fell, bump, bump, bump, straight into the paper basket and landed on Mrs. Snow.
Poor old Mrs. Snow thought it was bad enough being separated from her husband and then being dumped in the bin. Now to have Gossamer land on her and push her into the nut shells; she felt her world was coming to an end. Mrs. Snow started to moan and complain; Gossamer stood up and her foot crushed her tiara on the Brazil nut shells. She could really get quite cross and felt like giving Mrs. Snow a good shake. After all she was the one with a torn dress, broken tiara, a wonky wand and she could still feel some prickles in her tights and as she looked down she saw her beautiful glass slipper was stuck in something sticky Ugh! Gossamer glared at Mrs. Snow and warned her that the cat was now putting a paw on the basket and leaning over the top watching. The bin tipped and rolled over onto its side.
The stupid snow woman wailed and quivered with fright as the cat peered in. Gossamer felt the cat's whiskers touch her and tried to stay under the orange peel. She closed her eyes and holding on to her wand she wished and wished. But nothing happened and as she peeked at her wand she realised the star was gone from the wand. At least Mrs. Snow was quiet and she realised that the poor snow woman had fainted; Gossamer gave a huge sigh - what a blessing in disguise. The waste basket was suddenly stood back up again as the cat was grabbed by the children and taken out of the room.
Gossamer managed to right herself at least the sticky goo on her glass slipper had stopped her from rolling around and becoming more fit for the rubbish dump. She crawled through the rubbish and found Mrs. Snow was sitting with her head in her hands on top of the star from Gossamer's wand. Gossamer knew enough to be grateful for small mercies and managed to free her star and using the revolting goo from her glass slipper she stuck the star back onto her wand. Her tiara seemed beyond repair and she knew she had so little magic in her wand that it was best used for Mr. and Mrs. Snow. She gave a huge sigh; maybe the rubbish dump would not be so bad after all.
Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, concentrating as hard as she could, Gossamer waved her wand over Mrs. Snow. She held her breath as she felt the air around her move round and round. As she peeked she could see silver and gold spinning around them both. What a fantastic feeling and with her whole heart she called out, 'Happy Christmas Everyone.'