Written 24th April 2010, From “Wicked Tales for Wicked Children”. Lizzie Ross

In a field not far from home I was standing alone among the trees that lined the edge of a park. As I gazed around in the early haze of a good spring mornings sunshine I clocked a girl, no more than about seven years old staring at me from the middle distance.

It was her cerise pink cardigan that had caught my eye, such a vivid colour, it struck out against the greying blue of the air around her.

On closer inspection, which took a little screwing up of my eyes, I saw that she had on a very pretty dress, in a fainter hue of pink, with a large white floral pattern strewn over its surface.

Her expression was odd though. She appeared to be in some kind of trance and unblinkingly was just staring at me.

The more I looked the more engrossed I became. How odd that her dress did not sway in the as the spring air rustled through the park. Her hair did not move either. Was this girl a ghost?

As I wondered this prospect the girls attention grew stronger, her eyes seemingly boring into my skull. I managed to turn away.

To my left, on the far side of the park, just out of clear focus there was a small group of children running about. I could hear quite plainly the word “Tag”, as they picked someone to be chased.

My curiosity got the better of me and I wondered why the girl in pink had not ventured to join in. Yet there she was as if rooted to the spot, still standing staring, but this time at the group of children.

Following her gaze I noticed that she was far more interested in one of the young girls who bore a remarkable resemblance to herself.

The girl in pink leaned forward. Her body bracing itself as she leant 45 degrees to the ground to get a closer look at the girl playing,

It was at this time of leaning, that my mind made a shocking discovery. Not only was this young girl trance-like and unblinking, she spine-chillingly had no feet either.

As soon as thought raced through my brain , the girl in pink lurched around, still at the horrendous angle and stared back at me once more.

Her eyes were black as coal and fierce. Her pretty face had changed from a trance-like stare into a contorted mask, with her two incisor teeth showing and sharp. In shock, my brain scrambled itself trying to think where I had seen such a thing before. ‘A pretty child, or small person? Whose looks banish them on their fear? No that wasn’t right, it was more like jealousy! Now which category do they come under?’

Yet before my ransacked brain could muster the word it was extended forth to my ears by the girl in pink – “Faerie?”

Without committing myself to having heard this, my mind just accepted the voice as a thought. Faerie, that was it – nice but wicked! She must be a Faerie but why no feet?

Again the girl in pink answered my question.

“Because as a child I kicked an animal – which is bad…”

Kicked animals ehy? Thought I. Faeries don’t kick animals, they are far too small and come to think of it, you, girl in pink are too big to be a Faerie! Why is that?

‘I was once like her over there, playing happily, but I got cornered by a gang of boys. They were older than me and I was trying to act as if I was strong, and not intimidated by them. This cat came waltzing over as they do, all superior, and this boy looks at the cat, then looks at me, and I thought to myself, well, if I don’t kick it, then he certainly will. So I kicked the cat. It flew sideways under a large shipping crate. I wasn’t meant to be there, it was horrendous, and I was terrified…’

It took a while for the description to settle in my mind. This young girl had become embroiled in a gang of young men. She had been scared. She had wanted to fit in, to be like one of them, despite her definite primness of attire. She kicked a cat, but why no feet!!!

‘That was the cat. But it wasn’t a cat. It was in the form of a cat, it was a spy who had been sent to take me away from the boys. So if I hadn’t pretended to be so tough and brutal, the cat would have made those boys go away, but like an absolute fool, I had no idea that people could transform into cats.’

The girl continued unabashedly.

‘Yet it wasn’t a cat you see. It was a faerie. She took off my feet as a punishment. She said “You will never run away again.”

The End.

Note: Why in a Park? She is moved from place to place to spread her tale.