The Fairies of Glendaren Hills: There Is Magic in Believing

By Susan Cupples-Munger

Spoon and Myrtle have long entertained their grandchildren with tales of fairies living in the hills that surround their home. And no matter how intriguing the stories, the children know they’re not really true…or are they?

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 10, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543914788

Book preview

1

Spoon

The Wotherspoon farm is nestled at the base of the lush, rolling hills of Glendaren, miles from the nearest village. Wild flowers abound, filling the air with their sweet aroma. A chorus of assorted songbirds and a bubbling brook that winds down from the hills of Glendaren echo from the nearby forest. A fine mist shrouds the forest, and according to legend is believed to have been woven by fairies to offer protection to the magical creatures that exist within from mortal eyes. Most of the villagers don’t believe in the fairy tales they’ve heard, having never seen any magical creatures during their lifetimes. Yet a few of the older residents hold fast in their belief that they do, in fact, exist.

James Reid Wotherspoon, or Spoon as everyone called him, sat in his rocking chair on the porch of his small two-story house he shared with his wife, Myrtle. His faithful companion, Shiloh, was lying on the floor at his feet. He was rather enjoying the unseasonably warm spring day and was entertaining himself with one of his favorite pastimes, cloud watching. After tending to the animals in the barn, Spoon and Myrtle loved to spend time sitting on the porch cloud watching, as they called it. The old couple would pick out shapes of animals, flowers, and other creatures in the passing clouds. The sky was brilliant blue, and the large, white fluffy clouds slowly drifted overhead and disappeared beyond the hills of Glendaren behind their home. The clouds didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry, much like old Spoon himself.

Spoon was a tall man with broad shoulders and a protruding belly. His thick, curly white hair was a little long and unruly. He had bushy, white eyebrows, a white beard, and bright blue eyes that twinkled when he smiled. He was a handsome man in his youth and still retained his boyish charm. He looked unusually young for his 60 years, despite the white hair and beard. He was still a strong man even with one arm that had once been broken and never completely mended many years ago. On special occasions, he would don his Sunday best, which consisted of a crisp, white shirt and his beloved kilt. Folks would come from all around to hear old Spoon play his bagpipes. His parents had emigrated from Scotland, and he was particularly proud of his Scottish heritage.

Spoon had courted and married Myrtle, his childhood sweetheart. Myrtle stood barely five feet tall and was a plump, old girl. Her hair was jet black in her youth but was now streaked with white. She kept her long hair braided in a bun at the nape of her neck. Her Indian heritage was evident in her high cheek bones and ebony eyes. Spoon always said they were like black pools that he could get lost in if he looked too long. Those eyes could make his heart sing with a merry look or they could throw daggers when angered.

Spoon sat lost in thought idly scratching Shiloh’s ears. As he was looking up at the sky tracing out a unicorn shape in a particularly large cloud, he became a little distracted by movement off in the distance on the worn path that ran past their home. Travelers occasionally used the path while journeying to Glendaren Hills to sell their wares or purchase supplies. He stroked his beard and recalled hearing something about a spring festival being held in town. He wondered if they were travelers heading to town for the festival. Last week he was buying provisions at Woodrow’s General Store and had heard folks talking about it. Woodrow’s was the place to go to hear the latest gossip in town and catch up on world news. Spoon and Woodrow had been friends since childhood. He thoroughly enjoyed his weekly visits with him when they went to town for supplies. He heard talk that the festival would be a large celebration with the whole county attending, but he couldn’t recall when it was to take place. He’d have to ask Myrtle about it when she finished up in the kitchen. She usually joined him on the porch this time of morning, but seemed to be running a little late today. Spoon figured she must be baking that pie she was talking about last night for her brother, Woodrow. Nobody in the whole county could bake a better pie than his Myrtle. It made his mouth water just thinking about it. She’d won the blue ribbon at the county fair every year for the last 30 years with her pies. If only they knew what her secret ingredient was. He chuckled to himself just thinking about it.

Myrtle was in the kitchen preparing her prize-winning pie with flakey crust and tart apple filling. She dipped a spoon into the pie filling to sample it. Hmm, needs more cinnamon, she said aloud to herself. She paused to take a sip of coffee, and then turned to reach for the cinnamon.

Boo, squeaked a tiny voice coming from the open window. Startled, Myrtle dropped her coffee mug and it shattered on the floor. She clutched her heart, staring at the tiny creatures sitting in the window sill.

Two fairy maidens, Crickett and Flossie, visited Spoon and Myrtle frequently. The old couple never knew when they might show up. Crickett giggled and flew to the broken mug. She raised her wand and in a flash, the cup was whole again.

We really scared you this time, said Flossie with a wide grin.

Yes you did, you just about scared the life out of me, Myrtle said gasping.

Flossie flew up into the air and did a somersault thoroughly pleased with herself.

Myrtle smiled. What are you young ladies up to this morning?

We’re on our way to Mariposa Lake to visit some friends and run an errand for King Isaam, but we thought we’d pop in and say hello, said Crickett.

Myrtle gave them a thoughtful look. It must be wonderful to be able to fly. I’ll bet you get there twice as fast as we can drive. I wish I had wings like you do.

Flossie brightened and raised her wand.

Crickett quickly placed her hand over Flossie’s wand. Oh no you don’t, said Crickett with a wink at Myrtle.

Flossie frowned and her wings drooped. Unfortunately, her spells sometimes went awry and Crickett never knew what she might conjure up. It didn’t take her long to recover from Crickett’s remark. She flew to the counter and dipped a finger into the pie filling to taste it. She looked thoughtful for a moment smacking her lips and then grinned.

It needs something, she said mischievously.

She reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out a tiny bag of fairy dust and offered it to Myrtle.

Remember, just a pinch, she said hovering over the pie to make sure Myrtle didn’t add too much.

Myrtle took a pinch of fairy dust from the bag and sprinkled it over the pie. She watched it glitter as it floated down onto the pie and then carefully placed it in the oven.

Thank you kindly, she said with a curtsey.

It smells wonderful, said Flossie dreamily.

Flossie, remember King Isaam gave us a task and we mustn’t dally. We’d love to stay longer, but we have to be on our way.

Flossie frowned and her wings drooped. Okay, well say hello to Spoon for us, she said and with that, they flew out the open window.

Spoon was just thinking about going inside to see what was keeping Myrtle, when she appeared in the doorway, shaking the flour off of her apron. He had guessed right, she was baking one of her special pies, all right. She carefully smoothed her skirt and fussed with her hair a bit. Spoon gave her a smile and noticed a little smudge of flour on her nose but kept that to himself. He loved the old woman, and thought she was even prettier with a little flour on her nose.

I can’t wait to sample that pie I smell, said Spoon teasingly.

Myrtle gave him a stern look. That pie is for Woodrow’s, birthday. If you behave yourself, maybe he’ll give you a slice this afternoon when we deliver it.

Yes ma’am, said Spoon with a grin.

She eased into her rocking chair and looked up at the clouds. I see a unicorn right there, and over there is a dragon.

Spoon laughed. That’s no dragon, that’s a lopsided bat!

You missed seeing Crickett and Flossie a few minutes ago. They couldn’t stay long, but they were here long enough to break my coffee mug, repair it, and deliver another bag of fairy dust. As usual, Flossie scared the life out of me on arrival, she said grinning.

The little stinkers wouldn’t dream of knocking on the front door, Spoon said. Flossie sure does love to scare people!

They so enjoyed the visits from their fairy friends, even if their sudden appearance did startle the wits out of them sometimes. Fairies are mischievous creatures after all.

Myrtle’s gaze turned toward the path and her eyes widened. What’s this, someone coming for a visit? Her eyes were peeled on the path where she could barely make out the silhouette of a man, woman, and small children off in the distance.

Don’t rightly know who it is yet, Spoon remarked. "I reckon its folks heading to town