The Fairy Ring

For six cold nights Beth made a bed inside the fairy ring and wept for the return of her lost love.

As the moon rose on the fourth night, whispering voices bade her go and offered her fine things. On the fifth Peter was returned, but he would not leave the circle and when he spoke, his eyes were far away.

On the last night, Beth sang of their home and child and smiling, Peter took her hand. Alas, scarce three steps beyond the stones, he crumpled into leaves which a spiteful wind blew far and wide.


The Hopping Field

Dusk, the last day of harvest and Luke stood with his wheel barrow, gazing out at the Hopping Field. After a moments searching his eyes settled on a small mound of stones piled up to waist height in a far corner of the barren plot.

His weather beaten face cracking in a smile, he said, ā€˜Iā€™m coming Granma. Just you wait.ā€™ Then moving quickly he set off towards the mound.

No time to waste. Continue reading “The Hopping Field”