Thus far, the Stoughton Press has confirmed three cases of fairy
mischief. First, a stroller temporarily
abandoned on Main Street, was recovered overflowing with violets and
dandelions. Next, a kitten escaped her owner only to return with her coat
covered in what has been determined to be the pollen from a distant relative of
the plum tree, one never seen before. In response, botanists are scouring the
area to find the tree. Finally, and most
disturbing to this reporter, the fairies have once again made contact.
Arriving at the office early on the morning of August 1st, I
was dismayed to find the tattered remains of the previous day’s donuts next to
my desk. While donuts formerly drew me like catnip, they no longer tantalize. Something
I attribute to Oton’s gluttonous habits. The donuts had to go, but as I reached
for the box, my fingers stiffened. Tiny footprints swirled through the powdered
sugar and orbited the colorful sprinkles. Too tiny for troll prints, it could
mean only one thing. Fairies had invaded the office. With growing unease, I followed the
footprints to my laptop and reached for my mouse. I was unsurprised to find it
smeared with tiny, chocolate hand prints.
Be at the portal
tree when the summer fades into autumn. Come alone if you want to learn the
truth.
The words stared out at me, daring me to close the document, but I
couldn’t do it. My reporter senses floated to the surface although my inner
child cowered in a hidden corner. I pressed print and locked the office door
before I began researching the autumnal equinox, a mere 53 days away. Exhaustive
research failed to uncover reliable references to any tree that could be termed
a portal, but I have alternative resources.
After parking my car behind a stand of sumac, I started down the path. Upon
rounding the first bend, my attention fell on strange mushrooms. With a
hobbyist’s knowledge of the woods, I had never seen anything like them. In
various forms and even more colors, they seemed to glow from within, but as I
approached, the light faded. Luckily, I was able to snap these photos before
they went dark. 
The winking mushrooms grew sparse then dwindled away before I entered
the village. The trolls remain cautious, but they have grown comfortable in my
presence although I feel like a lumbering giant among the ankle high trolls. I
located Oton and pulled him away. Being troll, Oton has no interest in human
scribbles so I read the message to him. His eyes soared across the valley. “You
know where it is, don’t you.” He looked over his shoulder. “Yes, but it’s not
my secret to share.” I followed his gaze to the even smaller trolless they call
Leaf. “Will she tell me?” Oton shrugged, but Leaf dipped her chin and began
walking. I followed her through the night, her long auburn hair swaying with
each step. I knew we were going in circles, but the tiny trolless never looked
back until we skirted an abandoned farmhouse. Finally, Leaf stopped and pointed
to a massive tree. “You can’t tell anyone. It’s not safe.” A shiver slithered
up my spine. “I’m not sure I can find it again,” I said. “You will, when the
time comes. The fairies will make certain you find your way.”
While this reporter prepares to embark on a career making—or
breaking—assignment city residents are advised to remain calm as the fairies
have shown no sign of real aggression, but things could
get interesting at 3:22am on Wednesday, September 23rd.
Originally appeared in the Fall edition of the Stoughton Press
