The sunset of my dusty town was eternal; twisting the trees into an inanimate, ghost landscape. The blanket of darkness suffocated the silent, sombre sky and strangled the suburban streets. Nothing was left. The ash from survival hung around in the air choking anyone who dare enter, so eventually desertion fell over the town. The town was isolated; the town was cornered. Callous decay plagued the tenebrous town. Only the bare branches that terrorised the travellers were punctured into the barren earth remained to keep the town company. Sometimes they cried and tears fell formed as coloured leaves staining the ground; remorseful wind swept away the scars and left nothing as evidence for the conflict.
Desolation, isolation crying out for some occupation, holding out for some communication into dusk. But nothing happens. What ever comes will always find some other future in another conventional mother town and doesn’t bother to sneak a peak over their shoulder because they are scared of the dark. But darling, even day is tucked away by the night. The heavenly body of the horison seeks shelter beneath the mountains for fear of colliding with the source of all evil. Silence.
Silence. Howling wind brings with it the pack who settle in the midnight sky and illuminate the atmosphere with its bright, white glow. The darkness lives.
When, from beyond the curtained ceiling an auroral energy observes through the crack and with no monstrous thoughts affecting, ripped apart the shield of shadows. Turning the dark to blaze, exposure befell the soul of the town. This town was free? Walls collapsed. The trembling city fell to its knees. The dehydrated clouds began to weep and weep they began until the liquid washed away marks of destruction. The manacles that clamped the town had been ruptured and the merciless wounds were exposed to an ambience of serenity.
An abundance of colour erupted from the crack in the most radiant veridian green and neptune bluer than the circassian sea. The bleak town was flooded. Guardian colours painted the buildings and stained the roads; the blackout had perished. The forsaken town which was choked by darkness had been released of its hold. Colours burnished the town making it sing at the top of its lungs. The abandoned town heaved. It inhaled a hopeless breath and released hope from the tension. Sanctuary was restored; freedom air flew over like doves and with a hint of fairydust in their beaks, crystallised the supernatural crescent into a brilliantly lit medium of silver.
Gliding from within the damage in the mystical, ultramarine sky glittered with silver stars, on a stream of angelic holiness, floated down a petite being. Chocolate brown eyes smiled and rosy cheeks -as if drawn on with felt tip- glimmered, fully intensified with the healing light that had invaded the town. It smiled a gleaming smile without saying anything and skipped off the silver-lined cloud that had transported it down. Jaunting through the streets, it halted at the entrance to the deepest part of the soul: the forest.
Clapping its hands and twirling around and around, rainbows of light emerged from within the spirit of the presence and burst out into the lifeless jungle. The dyes lit up the cynical woods and contaminated every last ghostly tree; originating from the fingers within the soil and finishing at the hair on top. The magical colours sprinted to heal and restore the natural order. Fuchsia, amethyst, scarlet, aquamarine lept up and smeared itself onto the carcass making sure not to leave a trace. No darkness remained.
The being emerged victorious a gleaming grin crept upon its wonderful face. Not looking back, running through the town, the next destination was a grim cottage hut minute enough to house the being. Cautiously, the wooden door was opened and the delightful fairy pranced into the chestnut haven and never departed.
The spirit of the fairy was enough to break the confinement of tremendous wrath. Destroy almost all the chains of darkness. Deep within the depths in the northern-eastern element of the town, within a white, snowy mountain lay a crystal device that was beating. The frosty covering suspended majestically over the organ of humanity, protecting it from harm. Little did it know: the heart was melting; the heart was screaming; the heart was drowning. There rested, huddled up, my empty ice heart bruised and stitched from the wounds that carved it. There lay the source to the blackness. The black screen which ridiculed this mysterious town was caused by the polluted heart tucked away into a snowflake bed. Examining deeper on the heart, engraved upon it was a four-lettered word.
The name of the fairy.