Fairy Glade, Most knew of its existence, yet, very few, still ventured along the long, beaten path, deep into the woods, to reach its end. And fewer still, remembered the tales of its being. Those who did, could still remember. The day they first dared to explore the long lost woods, in search of a mystery, a myth, and were faced, with its true reality.
Only on a full moon, they were told, when the skies were clear, and the forest dead, would the fairies come out to play. And dance beneath the stars, Shining, their reflections, shining brilliantly in the still waters below. Dazzled the darkened forest with blue, greens and reds. Casting a glow, which caused the smooth, river rocks below, to look as though they were cast with diamonds.
And the few, who remembered that day. The day they stepped quietly into the clearing, to see the whole glade, glowing. Multi colored stars, dancing about above the waters.
They'd return home, never knowing, truly, what they had seen, yet, when they fell asleep that night, the image, still burned brightly in their minds.
And years later, as they told their great, grandchildren, of that night, it would still burn. With the magikal glow, of a thousand fairies, caught in the moonlight.
Tale, would turn to myth, and myth, into legend. Til all who remembered the glory of the fairy glade, were passing on. Their children, long lost of the interest in stories. Had moved on, after many, fateful attempts, to witness the dance for their own.
And as the last of the true believers, took their final bow. The tales of the fairy glade, were lost. Nothing more, than a bedtime story, told to children to put their eyes to sleep.
And, along with the stories, the small, passage through the woodlands, disappeared.
Until, years later, a man, lost, searching for a town, it seemed, he'd never find. Finally, reluctantly, pulled his car to the side of the road, and parked. Down, at the thought of spending the night in his cramped, 2 seater convertible. He slid outside, into the cool, winter air, moon shining, high above, through the sleeping trees.
He looked around, slowly, taking in all around him.
He turned, to slide himself back into his car, deciding to drive for perhaps, another hour. When, deep, in the forest beyond the vehicle, something caught his eye. A dent, in the brush, hardly noticeable. He paused, then reached into his car, and produced a small flashlight, though he truly didn't need it, seeing as the moon was shining high above, lighting the world as clearly as the sun. Without knowing why, he made his way toward the push in the brush. There, nearly lost, was a path, all but grown in, all that remained of the curving dirt lead, was green streak of baby's breath groundcover, giving the once brown, packed path, a now, green, softly paved look. Slowly, he pushed the brush aside, and made his way up the slope, and into the woods.
He climbed, for no reason at all, yet something, something kept urging him on, higher, through the tangled mess of shrubs and thorns, higher, into the mountain. Feeling more and more uneased.
He knew this place.
From where? He couldn't recall, no matter where he looked, he couldn't place it, yet it all felt so, real.
All that kept rushing to his mind, was his grandfather, who had died, many, many years ago, while he was still a boy. Why, that thought kept racing to his mind, he didn't understand, all he could remember, was his grandfather, sitting in his old rocking chair, talking. Laughing, rocking by the fire, his family, gathered round'. sitting on the floor all around. Listening to him speak.
The ground began to level off, the tightly packed brush, slowly shied away from the path. Til nothing remained, but the tall, bare, trees. Then, something, in the distance, caught his eye.
He turned, and crept slowly toward the old, mossy, sign.