Journey: The Ramblings of a Fairy Godparent

By C.C. Naughton

"You're an old soul, Journey, and your reason will serve you well, but you mustn't forget to play, sometimes. There is great value in being silly, at least once in awhile."

 

Fairy Godparent Journey travels through a twisted world of fairy tales, solving frivolous puzzles and unmuddling ridiculous messes for those who wish for help. Taking on whatever identity and clothing is required--including many outfits they find far too sparkly for their liking--Journey helps their clients using all of their resources, including the assistance of other peculiar Godparents, a magic bubble wand, and a quick wit.

 

Come along on Journey's, well, journeys, as they and their companions--a color-changing mare, a shapeshifting dray-cart, and a smart-alecky grasshopper--meet Primrose, who made a wish to keep her room free from cobwebs as she slept for a hundred years; Daphne, an unusual frog who is blackmailing a Prince; Fionn, a young boy who was found in a clearing by seven wacky gnomes; and other mostly-familiar characters with peculiar--and sometimes humorous--twists and turns to their stories. 

 

Many of the stand-alone, sequential fairy-tale retellings in this collection feature Own Voices elements, as the author brings their personal lived experience into many of the narratives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.C. Naughton
• Release date: Nov 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393968566

C.C. Naughton

C.C. Naughton is the author of two fantasy series, The Tales of Twinkle Dingle (humorous fantasy) and the Beneath the Birch Tree saga (fairy tale re-tellings). Her work is greatly inspired by her first literary loves of fairy tales, folklore, and mythology, and her long-time interest in Settlement-era Iceland. When she is not writing or reading, she spends her time herding cats with her life-partner, sewing weird plushies, and trying to figure out how her magic wand works.

Book preview

Have a Nice Life, Journey!

Soon after I became an adult according to the local laws and customs, Piper pulled me aside to say, without ceremony, Time for you to be off on your own, Journey.

My heart dropped. We'd been together for a number of years; now that Piper said it was over, that time felt like only moments—and I wasn't prepared. But how will I discover where I am supposed to be?

That's not for me to know. The magic called you, and the magic will show you where to go.

I gazed at my adopted family, my clan, through suddenly full eyes. I don't want to leave you, I said, turning away quickly. Piper embraced me fondly; when I could finally speak again, I asked, Why must I?

You know why, was the only reply; as the words were spoken, I did know why—my name foretold my destiny—although the knowing didn't make it any less painful.

Can I at least say goodbye? I asked.

Do as you will, but you must leave by midday. The words were firm but not harsh, and Piper said nothing else before walking away to cook breakfast and tend to Buttercup, the enormous white and black pig that was never far from Piper's side.

I sought Archer first. I needed Archer's thoughtful quietness to reflect; after finding them practicing with their bow near the edge of the woods, I poured out my heart. Archer leaned against a tree, listening, finally saying only, Goodbye, Journey, before walking into the woods with their squirrel, Pistachio.

Disappointed in the lack of response, I left to seek Mischief, who simply shrugged when I explained the circumstances.

Won't you miss me, at least a little? I asked, pouting.

Don't matter, came the reply. You'll go anyway.

I frowned. I don't want to, but I have to.

Go then, Mischief said as they poked at the campfire with a long stick. See if I care.

But, I added softly, we're bound.

Mischief only shrugged again, dropping the stick in the fire then wrapping their red corn snake, Cuddles, around a wrist before running off.

I watched Mischief go, then finally went to say the hardest goodbye of all—Sunny. Sunny was so young when we first met that I'd become a surrogate parent of sorts. I sighed; this conversation would not be easy.

I found Sunny—sitting with their whet owl Pepper—under a tree making a wreath from wildflowers. After I sat, Sunny handed me a flower, saying, What's wrong?

Not having any way to soften the blow, I blurted out, I have to leave.

Sunny just sat silently, weaving together the wildflowers, until finally they asked, When?

By midday.

Sunny responded, Have a nice life, Journey, as they turned back to the flowers.

Dejected that no one—especially Sunny—had any consoling words for me, I gathered my few personal belongings and some food; as a fully-fledged Fairy Godparent, I wouldn't truly need food any longer and hadn't for some time, already, but old habits were hard to break. Finally, I hung my magic wand around my neck, set my grasshopper Alexander in my hair, and that was about it.

Even before we ate our breakfast, I was so anxious about waiting until midday—especially since no one here cared if I stayed or went—that I found Piper and said, I am leaving now, as I walked away.

Wait, Piper called, and, hopeful that there had been some kind of misunderstanding, that I could stay awhile longer, I spun back around.

Again, I was disappointed.

Piper handed me a small pouch, explaining, There is a farm up the road, and I know for a fact that the farmer has a horse and dray to sell. He'll take this in trade.

I peeked inside the pouch, wondering what it might be this time. Stones enchanted to resemble gold? Glass cut to look like diamonds? But no, it was... Beans?

Magic beans, Piper corrected with a wink. And you're welcome.

I can't pay for a horse with magic beans. So many things could go wrong, I said with a frown.

Then figure out some other way to get that horse and dray. Keep the beans if you prefer.

I do prefer, and I will find my own conveyance, thankyouverymuch. I spun around sharply, shoved the beans into my bag, then marched down the road, until finally I turned back to look—and could no longer see them.

Slumping, I continued my trek until I did indeed come upon a small farm, with a lone, jet-black mare grazing in the fenced field beside the farmhouse. Curious, I stood next to the fence and called to the mare; she lifted her head and trotted over to me. Still thinking about Sunny and the others, I reached into my bag and grabbed the first food I touched, offering it to her. Too late, I realized I held magic beans, but the mare ate quickly and by the time I pulled back my hand, only one bean remained. I groaned as I realized I had to make the mare mine, now, as there was no telling what sorts of trouble she could get into, otherwise.

I patted the mare's nose, saying, I will come back for you, and then walked towards the house. Reaching the door, I rapped sharply, and it opened at once to reveal a roughly-dressed farmer standing before me.

Whadda you want? the farmer said, and I cleared my throat before answering, The black mare in the field, what will you take for her?

Not for sale, the farmer replied, then started to shut the door; I stuck my foot into the doorway, a trick Piper taught us all, but the farmer just shoved the door harder, squeezing my foot. As the pain in my toes increased, I looked through my wand, focusing on the farmer, discovered his need, then blurted out, I can help you get your cow back.

The door eased, and as I relaxed, it opened fully. The farmer said, Come in, then.

Don't you want to know how? I asked, as I limped toward the proffered chair.

Don't care, was the reply. Bring me my cow, you can have the horse.

One down. Have you a wagon I can buy, or a cart?

Old dray in the shed. Needs wheels. You can have for free it if you can get it off my land, the farmer said with a chuckle.

Deal. I held out my hand, and the farmer shook it.

Now, where did you last see your cow? I asked.

In the barn. Eating hay.

Any neighbors who might have stolen it?

Nope.

No idea where it went?

Nope.

Can you tell me anything about the cow? Anything at all?

She's gone.

I sighed. Let me ask, just to be clear: the dray is mine, even if I can't find the cow?

Yep.

I hopped up then went outside to find the dray. Once located, I groaned—it was hardly more than a pile of boards, with a few bits of metal in places that must have once been attached to wheels. But I was, according to Piper, a Fairy Godparent—although I still wasn't sure how that was possible, really, as I was no one's Godparent, and in spite of being fey, I wasn't fay—but I did know that I possessed a magic wand, and that my magic wand actually worked. I searched the shed for useful bits to make into wheels, and nearly collided with the farmer who'd snuck in behind me.

Have you any scraps of metal, or... well, anything, really, that I may have? I asked.

The farmer handed me an old metal bucket—with a hole in the bottom—and a few empty gunny-sacks. Frowning, I dropped the objects in a heap on the remains of the dray, then held the wand before my lips. Blowing gently, I willed the magic into the bubble that formed, finally releasing the bubble from my wand once it encompassed the dray and the scraps.

Why a bubble wand? I'd asked Piper, shortly after receiving it.

You're an old soul, Journey, and your reason will serve you well, but you mustn't forget to play, sometimes. There is great value in being silly, at least once in awhile.

I didn't understand it at the time, but Piper was right, of course. Piper was always right.

When the bubble popped, there sat what I needed: a somewhat functional conveyance complete with a gunny-sack seat and rusty buckets for wheels. I glanced at the farmer who made no show of surprise, but instead, said with a smirk, What's gonna pull it?

It will pull itself, at least for a short while, I answered. I dug the single remaining magic bean out of the pouch, set it on the dray, then crushed it with the heel of my boot. The resulting powder I sprinkled over the dray's surface before blowing another bubble around it. When the bubble popped, the dray shuddered, the shaft shifted, and the entire conveyance shook and creaked as it slowly rolled out of the shed under its own power. That didn't seem to surprise the farmer either, although the smirk faded.

I climbed into the seat, such as it was, then extricated Alexander from my hair, setting him on the seat beside me. Alright, then, Dray, let's go find a lost cow, I called, and the dray eased itself into the road. Although the going was slow—and somewhat lopsided due to the strange wheels—it still was a faster pace than I could have gone on foot, and the break from walking was appreciated. I imagined riding in this dray as it was pulled by the lovely black mare, and smiled; this wasn't working out so badly, after all.

We shortly came to a narrow bridge passing over a refreshing stream; I slowed Dray as we crossed, enjoying the view. Suddenly a—well, to be perfectly honest, I am not sure what they were, exactly, a bogle maybe, or perhaps a spriggan, or possibly even a nix, for they were green with long pointy ears and huge dark eyes, carried a short, gnarled walking-staff and wore something that resembled a gunny-sack tied with a piece of rope, and I had never seen or heard of such a thing in my life, not even when Piper instructed us about bogles, spriggans, or nixes, but I have no other words to describe this creature—jumped before me and demanded, A gift you will give, or cross my bridge you will not.

Gift? I said. But I haven't anything to give you. If only I hadn't let the mare eat the beans, I could have saved a few for circumstances such as this! I quickly stuffed a protesting Alexander into my food-sack, so he wouldn't end up as a bogle-snack. But the bogle made no mention of the grasshopper, simply went on, saying, Then answer a riddle you will, hm?

Piper had trained us all to see the truth in riddles, so I felt prepared. When I nodded, the bogle cleared their throat and said, "Of a swallow, the air speed... no, no, no, been done, that has. Hm...Cries voiceless it does... no, not that one either." The creature scratched their bald head with a claw and scrunched up their face, muttering to themself.

Perhaps I can ask you a riddle instead, and if you can't answer it, you must let me across, I offered. The bogle grinned a toothless grin. But trick me you will not, they said.

We'll see about that, I replied, and tried to remember all the riddles I'd ever heard. But while Piper spoke in riddles more often than not, I wasn't sure any of that applied to this situation. I needed something tricky, not simply truths wrapped in a clever puzzle. I blew through my wand to clear my head, and as I watched the bubble float away, I suddenly grinned.

Alright, I said, "here is the riddle:

We are the same, a matching pair;

We're not the same, I am not there.

What am I?"

No sense does it make! protested the bogle. There and not there, both it cannot be!

"But what if it is there, and you just don't know it's there? I asked. Is it really there if no one can see it? Is it gone simply because you cannot see it? What makes it real?"

But... but... the bogle sputtered.

And how can you know something can't both be there and not there? I pressed. What about the moon, on a night when it's new?

The bogle perked up, asking, The moon, is it? I shook my head, laughing, and the bogle sat hard on the ground, and said, Beat me, you have. Across you may go, but to me the answer you will tell.

I grinned, and as Dray continued across the bridge, I said, Look into the stream, and you will see the answer staring back at you.

The frustrated howls of the bogle had just faded when two children—dressed identically in loose green trousers topped with billowy white shirts, and wearing wreaths of flowers on their heads—suddenly skipped across the road, nearly colliding with Dray.

Whoa, Dray! Children, be careful! Dray came to a shuddering stop, and I climbed down to speak to the pair. You could get hurt playing in the road. Why are you out here alone?

We're fetching water, said the taller one, holding up a pail.

Water? I said. There is a spriggan or something by the bridge, best find your water someplace else.

Not there, said the smaller. We're going up the hill. The child pointed; my gaze followed the child's finger, and I spotted a well at the top.

Be off with you then, but be more careful, I admonished. Stay out of the road. They nodded, waved, and ran off together. Mere moments later, I heard a wail. I looked towards the sound; both children lay in a heap in the road behind me, rubbing their foreheads.

Turn around, Dray, I commanded; Dray creaked and groaned and turned back the other direction, finally stopping before the children.

Are you alright? What happened? I asked as I climbed down from Dray's seat.

I fell down the hill, said the taller child. I think I broke something.

I tumbled next, the smaller child added. And I lost the bucket.

Broke? I asked. What broke?

The taller child wriggled around, pulled something from a pocket, and finally held it out to me. I examined it and discovered it was a small chess piece—a red Queen, to be precise—with the crown snapped off.

You broke a chess piece? I asked incredulously as I handed back the piece. I thought you were injured.

No, I'm fine, but we won't be able to play the game without all the pieces, the child pouted.

I sighed, as I held out my hand. Once the Queen was once again in my possession, I blew a bubble around it, fixing the broken crown. I handed it back. Better?

The child nodded, but then the smaller child asked, Have you seen our dog?

Dog? What dog?

We were getting the water for our dog, but it's lost, the taller child explained.

If you lost the dog, why does it need water? I asked.

To drink, why else? said the smaller child.

I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. This day was becoming more exasperating by the moment; considering how it started, that was saying something. I haven't seen a dog. What does it look like?

Its ears are quite short, and its tail is long... the smaller child started, but was interrupted by the taller, who said, It's brown and fluffy, and very small, for a dog.

Where did you last see it? I asked.

Chasing a cat, the taller one said.

With a fiddle, added the smaller.

A what? I asked, not quite sure I'd heard correctly.

The cat ate a fiddlehead, the taller child clarified. The dog thought it was funny.

After shaking my head in disbelief, I wondered how to go about finding the dog. But just then I heard a bark, and craned my neck looking for the source. When I couldn't locate it, I held up my wand and blew a bubble which cling to the wire star; using it to scry, I gazed until I found the creature—a fuzzy brown mop of a canine, rolling around in the grass and woofing with their tongue lolling out. I pointed in the correct direction, the smaller child said, Thank you! and the two sped off.

I continued down the road, grateful for Dray, as this journey was becoming far more tiring than it rightfully should have been. After what felt like hours later, but was probably no more than a score of minutes, I found—finally—a black and white cow. What I wasn't expecting were the two reddish-brown calves beside her.

Maybe it's the wrong cow, I said, to no one in particular; Alexander finally poked his head out from the bag and chirped, Have you seen any others? and I had to admit he had a point.

Do I take them all back to the farm? Or just the cow?

I suppose if you take the cow, the calves will follow, Alexander suggested.

Dray, stop, I commanded, and when the dray had indeed stopped, I climbed down and approached the cow.

Alexander, how do I catch it? I haven't a rope.

Piper had no rope, and still caught you, Alexander chirped.

I huffed. I wasn't caught, but I understand your point. I held up my wand again, idly blowing bubbles while wondering what would entice a cow to follow me.

Alexander, I asked, do cows eat... I paused to look in the food bag, and then added, ... cheese? You'd think they might, as it's milk and all.

I don't think they do, came the reply, and from my limited experience with livestock, I did have to agree. I peeked into the bag again, and wondered, Turnips?

"That seems