To be guided by a Porcelain Hand
From the earliest memories of my boyhood she has always sat there, quietly reading in the center of chaos. My grandfather’s collection of books could no longer be contained on the library shelves, so now they grow in stacks like trees. They are the wisest of any tree, for they know mathematics, astronomy, latin, geography, biology, and grammar. They can tell you how to dance or sing, how to listen to God and speak in foreign tongues. They posses tales of brave knights and fearsome dragons, they keep the secrets of lovers, and spill the misdeeds of the sinful.
As a child I eagerly anticipated visits to grandfather’s house so that I may wander through the forest in awe. And if I was lucky, I’d catch a glimpse of the fairy perched in the big red armchair. Like a Queen of the forest she spends her days in her flowing white dress trimmed with lace, and a silver tiara studded with glimmering jewels...