Once there was a fairy who roamed the quiet suburban Street of Glenhoe on Sunday afternoons. She was a cute little darling who wore a pink dress with tiny wings at the back.
“Hello, Mrs. Carmichael,” she’d say to the nice elderly lady on House Number 32.
“Oh hello, there! I’m so glad you stopped by,” said Mrs. Carmichael as she straightened up with a grimace on her face.
“What’s the matter?” asked the fairy.
“Oh.. it’s just my back. All this gardening has given me pain all week for having to bend down so much.”
“There, there, now,” said the fairy as she reached up and rubbed Mrs. Carmichael’s hips with her tiny hands. “Go have a seat. I think the garden looks good already. You should rest.”
“Why thank you, little one,” smiled Mrs. Carmichael as she sat down on her stool beside her geranium flower pots. “I think I will do just that. Thank you very much for your advice.”
The fairy smiled till her dimples showed on her face. She went off to visit Mr. de la Cruz on House Number 34.
She found him crawling on all fours patting the lawn with his hands. The sprinkler was on and he was getting wet.
“Mr. de la Cruz! What are you doing?” she asked.
“Oh, little miss. Thank you for stopping by. I seem to have misplaced my glasses. I can barely see without them!” He looked so distressed that the fairy grabbed both of his hands.
“Don’t worry, Mr. de la Cruz. I will find them for you. But first, come with me away from the water.” She pulled at him with all her strength while Mr. de la Cruz slowly got up and allowed her to guide him away from the sprinkler.
Afterwards, the fairy looked around and dodged the sprinkler until she saw a reflection of light on the patio steps nearby. She picked up the pair of glasses and handed them to a grateful Mr. de la Cruz.
“Whatever would we do without you, little miss!” waved Mr. de la Cruz as the fairy hopped and skipped down the street before disappearing inside House Number 35.
“Good heavens! Look at the state of you,” said Mrs. Dearborn. “You’re all wet and where did you get all those mud on your shoes? Here, let me take off your dress before you catch a cold. Marry Anne Dearborn, whatever will we do with you?” She sighed as she pulled the dress up over the golden hair of her six-year-old daughter.
“Our very own Little Miss Fairy of Glenhoe Street.”
“Hello, Mrs. Carmichael,” she’d say to the nice elderly lady on House Number 32.
“Oh hello, there! I’m so glad you stopped by,” said Mrs. Carmichael as she straightened up with a grimace on her face.
“What’s the matter?” asked the fairy.
“Oh.. it’s just my back. All this gardening has given me pain all week for having to bend down so much.”
“There, there, now,” said the fairy as she reached up and rubbed Mrs. Carmichael’s hips with her tiny hands. “Go have a seat. I think the garden looks good already. You should rest.”
“Why thank you, little one,” smiled Mrs. Carmichael as she sat down on her stool beside her geranium flower pots. “I think I will do just that. Thank you very much for your advice.”
The fairy smiled till her dimples showed on her face. She went off to visit Mr. de la Cruz on House Number 34.
She found him crawling on all fours patting the lawn with his hands. The sprinkler was on and he was getting wet.
“Mr. de la Cruz! What are you doing?” she asked.
“Oh, little miss. Thank you for stopping by. I seem to have misplaced my glasses. I can barely see without them!” He looked so distressed that the fairy grabbed both of his hands.
“Don’t worry, Mr. de la Cruz. I will find them for you. But first, come with me away from the water.” She pulled at him with all her strength while Mr. de la Cruz slowly got up and allowed her to guide him away from the sprinkler.
Afterwards, the fairy looked around and dodged the sprinkler until she saw a reflection of light on the patio steps nearby. She picked up the pair of glasses and handed them to a grateful Mr. de la Cruz.
“Whatever would we do without you, little miss!” waved Mr. de la Cruz as the fairy hopped and skipped down the street before disappearing inside House Number 35.
“Good heavens! Look at the state of you,” said Mrs. Dearborn. “You’re all wet and where did you get all those mud on your shoes? Here, let me take off your dress before you catch a cold. Marry Anne Dearborn, whatever will we do with you?” She sighed as she pulled the dress up over the golden hair of her six-year-old daughter.
“Our very own Little Miss Fairy of Glenhoe Street.”
