paige6

     Every time I brought down a pen to the paper of my journal I feel its sharp, scalding point scarring a part of my heart. It has been five years after her death and I've never picked up that journal to write again....until now. I figure it's about time for Alyssa to know what's real. Who knows? Perhaps in the process of writing her life I'll somehow find mine.

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     "Yuck, this place is filthy." Alyssa's voice cut through the silence of the dark and dusty attic of her house. She pulled the rest of her body up from the ladder that lead through a square hole in the hallway ceiling. "Attics are full of memories, right?" she asked herself. "Let's just see if I can find some of my own."

     "Alyssa crept slowly to some boxes below the attic window at the far side of the room. "No better place to start than here," she said out loud to herself. In need for some light, she wiped off a circle of grime from one of the window panes. A stream of light poured out from the glass onto an unmarked box in front of her. She sat down on the creaking wooden floorboards, folded her legs under her in an Indian-style position, and attempted to open the dusty cardboard box.

     Alyssa tore at the masking tape on the box that secured the contents inside, brought back the box flaps, and carefully reached inside. "Let's see," Alyssa mused. "Old newspapers, a string of green Christmas lights, a beaten-up pair of Converse shoes, and a scrap book." She set the other contents aside except for the dust covered scrap book, and slowly flipped thorugh the pages. All of the black construction paper pages were empty except one. Pasted onto the black page was a torn journal. Written in blue was a story. It was neither signed nor dated by its author. Alyssa read it slowly and carefully.

     The time flew by quickly. The sun was no longer shining through the window. Alyssa read only by the dim glow of twilight. When she was through, she tore out the black page of the scrap book, filled the rest of the contents into the cardboard box and slowly made her way downstairs. In her hands was a clue to who she was. And in her mind, a story took place...

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     Once upon a time, there lived a girl who loved simple things. She loved the way black, juicy olived tumbled out of their can into her favorite blue porcelain bowl. She loved the long necks of brontosoaurs, the soft wings on white doves, and the funny whiskers on seals. She loved the feeling of soft carpet under her feet and beach sand between her toes. She loved the feeling of smooth, black rocks in the palms of her hands that she found on back roads or streams. When she grew up, she was going to be an astronomer for she loved to study the heavenly stars.

     Everyday she loved to play in the grassy fields in the hills. She played and danced in the warmth of the sun and frolicked through the meadows of daffodil fields. And oh, how she loved to daydream. She had always wondered what lie beyond the clear-blue sky. She found herself thinking of things such as what made the wind blow and where the ocean came from. The voice of her thoughts was her best friend.

     As the years went by, the little girl grew up to be a young woman of nineteen. And yes, she still loved to play in the fields and dreaming dreams. One day during one of her forest walks, she came across a whimpering voice pleading for help.

     "Help," cried the voice, "Is there no one in this forest to help me?"

     The girl fumbled through the bushels and shrubs toward the voice. "Hello?" she called. "I'm coming! Don't worry."

     As she approached the cry, she saw the most peculiar thing. The voice of was of a little fairy strangled in some vines. She had blue hair with strands of silver, a short blue dress with silver fringes, and wings, unlike those of birds, almost transparent.

     Startled, the little pixy looked up at the girl with pleading blue eyes and said, "Please, please help me get my wings untangled in these vines. I'm afraid I've lost my way and somehow ran into them. I will be much grateful for your help."

     And of course, the girl gladly helped the little fairy out of both kindess and curiosity. As soon as she freed her, the little pixy dusted herself off and shyly looked at her and said, "Thank you. I've been stuck in those vines for a number of minutes. Thank goodness you happened to pass by to rescue me."

     "You're very welcome," said the girl "May I aks who you are?"

     "Oh, certainly!" the little pixy exclaimed. "My name is Star. I've come on a most urgent quest to help a human child." Star hovered in the air and lowered herself down to the ground. "You see, I used my pixy magic to come here as fast as I could," she continued, "and I somehow landed quiete clumsily in the vines. Then, as you already know, you came along and helped me."

      "So you're a pixy! I thought pixies were just make-believe," the girl said astonished. "Could I help in any way to fulfill your quest?"

     Well," said Star, "coincidentally, you are my quest. I've come to grant you a wish."

     "A wish?" the girl questioned as she sat down under a nearby tree. She thought good and hard and heard the voie of her thoughts loud and clear. Finally, she stood up, looked into the fairy's sky blue eyes and said, "Please, tell me who I am..."