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Language:
English
Series:
Part 7 of RedRoseWhite's Twitfic Fairytales
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Published:
2020-08-23
Words:
408
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
1
Kudos:
4
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27

The Black Stone

Summary:

A girl protects her village from a fairy's curse.

Seventh in a series of fairytales written on Twitter, then collected on AO3.

Work Text:

Black-Stone

Once there was a village built around a sacred pond. The fairy who had blessed it told the villagers; "You must never let a black stone fall into this pond, or you will be cursed forever."

This prophecy was passed down for a hundred generations, and every villager of age knew it was true. One day, the children were playing on the bank, where the cat-tails and marsh marigold were plentiful. A girl saw her little brother pick up a black stone from the earth.

It was flat and disc-like and he quickly threw it to see if it would skip. The girl snatched it from the air. She stood, knee-deep, in the pond, with the stone in her hand. A golden light like fireflies swirled around her, and the fairy of the pond appeared like twilight mist.

"You are now the keeper of these waters, " the fairy said. "Your task is to hold the stone and never let it fall."
"Please," the girl begged. "I am a human girl, and I do not belong to Fairyland. My life is in the village. I am bound to marry, and have children, and bake bread."

"You were chosen for this task by fate," the light told her, swooping to caress her cheek with the softness of a shining star. "You are brave, and strong. This was not what you wanted, but I know you will not fail." Tears fell from the girl's eyes as she thought of her family hearth.

Her heart broke, but her arm and hand were strong. She held the stone as the autumn leaves fell, as the snow drifted into her hair, as spring brought new life all around her. On Midsummer night, the fairy came to her once more. "How do you fare, keeper?" she asked.

"I am brave and strong and chosen as you have said, but it pains me to see my old life and my loves passing by on the bank, never to be part of it again," the girl told her. "Would you strike me blind?"
The fairy touched the girl's forehead and turned her eyes to stone.

Over time, the stone-touch crept along the girl's body, to her unkissed lips and her unshared heart, down to her untravelled feet. Next Midsummer, the girl was as a statue, with a black stone in her hand. A dove took it in its beak, swallowed it, and slept in her upturned palm.

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