Teeny Tiny Tales

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A true bubble rider sprite, I am told, is smaller than an acorn when fully mature.  An entire classroom of children can fit inside one acorn, as long as there are plenty of windows.  I assume that this is the reason we never see them, only the evidence that they were here.

The adult sprites look forward to retirement, just like we do.  If you ever looked in your glass of soda, you can see that a fully grown sprite would not get very far on a bubble.  Their memories are clear, though, and they love to tell stories about their days of high adventure.  I’m not sure we can expect them to be entirely truthful, though, so I have a special face I make when I think they are pulling my leg.

By the time a bubble rider has outgrown her ability to ride a bubble, and then completed her task of sharing her memories, she is ready to become an ordinary fairy.  This moment is measured by fitting an acorn’s cupula on her head like a hat.  When it no longer fits, she has transformed.

 

 

 

 

Anniversary Birthday Celebration

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Last year, I sent my first bubble riders on a mission of joy.  Their message was as simple as it was complicated:

What I offer is an ear.  A shoulder.  An embrace across the miles.  A tickle.  A story.  A lick.  A song.  A picture.  A gift.  A dream.  A sip.  A tear.

Here is the story:

…and when the bubble riders were certain he was asleep, they found their way under covers and pajamas, coaxing an erection that they could happily use on  their playground.  While he slept, they rode their makeshift sliding board until it was nearly dawn.  When he awoke, he could not remember any of the details from his dream, but he was certain it was a good one.
I soon discovered that these particular fairies were highly specialized, and I never again saw such passion.