Thursday, May 26, 2011
Make Your Bed
Once upon a time in the kingdom of Oakleigh, there lived a beautiful, but evil Bed Fairy named Malevolent. She had been thrown to the Earth by her master, Malign and ordered to creep across the land; keeping children in order.
She went by the name of Carol and set about gaining favour with many unsuspecting, moodle like fathers, eventually winning their love and trust and moving in with them. The Bed Fairy did not necessarily like children. They had ugly small faces and they smelled. She had only one aim; to set up a clean house and have access to their slothful, children.
It was her fate to abhor any kind of untidiness. If she found socks on the floor, she would snip off their toes and feed them to her cat, Winslow.
Those that were lazy by day, had their fingers clipped off in the night; and the Bed Fairy used them to season her soup. Those that told tales would wake to find their tongues had turned to stone. Children that viewed what they should not have viewed; awoke cross eyed; never again to spy on that which they should not.
But the worst of all sins for the Bed Fairy was those apathetic children, who would arise from their slumber in the mornings, toss the covers back and leave their rumpled beds in disarray. For those children she would not cripple or maim. This transgression was far too serious; this debt could not be paid with the loss of a finger or eye.
Instead, the Bed Fairy would hide in the wardrobe and wait in silence, for the coming of darkness.
When naught but soft snuffles and snores seeped throughout the room, the Bed Fairy would leave the confines of the wardrobe without a sound; and slowly shuffle through the darkness to the bed.
She would stand above and look down upon the sleeping, lazy child and such fury would consume her. For of all the things that anyone could do to anger her; not making a bed was the worst.
And as the anger shuddered to life inside her, she would gradually lean forward, careful not to let her hair drape across their faces and wake them; and snuffle the air above their mouths. Inhale their breath; deeply, sucking it in; letting it gain momentum until she had consumed the spirit of the child.
In the morning, bright sunlight would slant in through blinds, highlighting nothing but empty beds. Encased within the covers there would be nothing but a husk. The child had vanished.
The Bed Fairy would be gone.
Posted by Mistress at 8:44 PM