Celia and the Fairies Page 11

  After they’d gone downstairs, she got up and tiptoed outside onto the balcony. Leaning over the railing, she called out softly, “Mira, the flute is gone.”

  From off in the distance she heard, “It doesn’t matter. You don’t need it anymore.” And then Mira said, “Go to bed, Celia. Sweet dreams.”

  She drifted off to sleep that night, content in knowing that she had been a brave and smart girl, outstanding in every way, as special as her grandmother, the original Celia. Because of her, the woods and her cozy house were safe from harm, and Paul and his family were the happiest they’d ever been. His mother said she couldn’t believe the change in his Aunt Vicky. Unbelievable was the word she’d used. Yes, all was well in the world.

  She remembered how Mira had said the Watchful Woods fairies were grateful to her and would be at her service if there ever was a need. Of course, there wasn’t a need for magic in her life anymore.

  But maybe sometime later. You could never tell.

  THE END

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Karen McQuestion has had literary aspirations since the third grade, when her teacher read her short story out loud to the rest of the class as an example of a job well done. She has been writing ever since. She lives in Hartland, Wisconsin, with her husband and their three children.