There are fairies in the garden.
They are not the nasty dragonwing biting kind and they are not the pointyhat curdlemilk vicious kind and they are not the tuppence under the bridgetolling goateating kind. They are little men little men littlemen with little greenglass bottles of amber liquor and you know what they say about fairywine, it is all true.
Every last drop of it.
There are fairies in the garden and they come from the Mountainking, they say. They have come for gold and jewels and they have come to conquer and take back the spoils of the garden to the halls of the Mountainking where they will drink and eat and be merry forever.
They dance to tinydrums and fairystrings and woodenspoons that have gone missing from the kitchen, and they will share their fairywine with you, from the little greenglass bottles, and they will be merrymerrymerry, the littlemen from the Mountainking, when they come to conquer the garden.
They come for gold. They come to slaughter the dragonwing fairies and take their golden teeth and string their sparklewing dragonwings into banners. They come for spoils. They play their tinytrumpets and they storm the stables where the curdlemilk brownies sit sharpening fairyknives, and they make long dandelionchains to bind their fairyslaves to the halls of the Mountainking, who sent them to the garden. They come for jewels. They come to the bridges and the rivulets run with fairyblood and they harvest the jewels of the goateating trollfairies and spread their skins on the riverrocks to dry.
There are fairies in the garden. My garden. Your garden. There are bitingwing fairies and curdlehat fairies and bridgeating fairies and mountainmen from the littleking, and they fight their fairywars and drink their fairywine, and take their battlespoils.
And the halls of the Mountainking are very large. They are very large and very deep and the littlemen are very strong and the dandelionchains are very strong and the fairywine is very very strong. And it is very dark in the mountainheart, where the Mountainking’s littlemen are too small to work the walls. It is darkest of all the endlessdark.
They do all this, the littlemen of the Mountainking. They do all this while they dance to the fairydrums and steal the kitchenspoons and drink their fairywine and share it with you, the bigfolk who have come to see the fairywars. They are very generous with the fairywine, the littlemen. They are very generous indeed. And it is true, what they say about fairywine:
Do not drink it, not even a drop.
Prompt: Nightmare Fuel, Day 19, photo by Flickr user Tetsumo, License Creative Commons – Attribution