The White dot

The fresh autumn morning breeze swept across the flickering blades of grass and bent their spines to follow the rhythm of the natural air. The wind whispered in the hollows of the great trees of the forest as she rushed by, secrets of long forgotten times. She twirled in the empty air and grasped leaves in her fine grip and tossed them across the woodland floor. Acorns fell from the old oak as her shoulder brushed up against them, the nut tumbled down and rolled in concentric circles until halting as it ran out of energy, it lay there to rest.

Out from the gaunt roots of the oak, tiny pine nutshell shoes emerged. Dainty, miniature feet enclosed in the casing of a pine nut inched out of tiny holes between the trees foundations and the earth. Attached to these delicate feet came pairs of honey suckle legs, soft and moist with the dew drops of the morning vapour. Then came tiny torsos[CB1] , each  enveloped in a small, elegant flower; buttercups, daisies, bluebells, and snowbells stepped into the pure sunrise light. Their bodices were coated with tiny poppy seeds and speckles of soil in ornate patterns and swirls like the wind herself. Their faces were as small as the acorn which had fallen moments before, their faces as delightful as the sweetest tree sap and their cheeks blushed like the petals of the reddest rose. Hair of tree bark brown cascaded down their backs as if rushing down the huge waterfall, some had small twigs or flower stems to hold their locks in buns and fishtails. As their bodies stood directly in the light for all too see they tip toed out of their homes further to reveal their wings. Their oak leaf wings fluttered and flapped, the colours of autumn echoed as they reflected the golden sunlight.

The pixies rushed out to collect the fallen acorns, snapping their cupule off and rushing to the edge of the tree to collect the tree sap which trickled down its edge. Filled acorn caps strung along the diameter of the oak and tilted on its pivot as the air rushed past. Pixies gathered everywhere to sit and snack on dew drops and acorn bites, crisp seedlings were harvested to nibble on, and clean cut grass was clipped to serve as an appetizer. As they day dwindled by, the sun began to fall asleep and lay her head down beneath the horizon. The dim light of night was coming, but the pixies still sat on the woodland floor and nattered with their cheerful chirps.

Down from the sky fell a small curled up white dot which effortless floated through the air and landed softly with a small thump onto the textured soil. The pixies darted behind fallen leaves, small pebbles and twigs which had been carelessly tossed by the wind. Their mud brown eyes peeped over their hiding places to observe the new phenomenon.

The white dot detangled herself and sat up in a cross legged position. Her skin was a frost blue which was freckled with white dots and her hair was silvery white which hung crisp against her back like a starfish. Her body was surrounded in a beautiful white gown which rippled against her limbs, she stroked her face with fragile fingers while her ocean blue eyes clocked the speckles of brown which lay scattered behind leaves, pebbles, and twigs. She giggled.

She stood up to her full height of three inches and spun around to absorb the surroundings and feel its touch. Looking about she saw the pixies begin to emerge from their shelter to creep towards their new acquaintance. She was different, she was unusual, she was curious. Why did she look like that?

The pixies took this white dot and led her inside of their home, under the roots of this oak was where it was decided, the white dot would no longer be an outsider, she would learn how to become an autumn pixie.

Over the next few days, the white dot learnt to harvest sap from the trees using a single acorn cap, to trim the emerald grass to the exact length needed to be able to peer out of in hiding and to find her way through the dimming light of sunset. But something wasn’t quite right, she did what we was told, but she didn’t feel as if she belonged.

As those days flittered past she grew sad, what was her purpose? The white dot felt her feet begin to drag heavy on the forest floor, she began to shed tears and watched them trail behind her.

The white dot slowly began to sink into the ground beneath her tiny, frosted feet, she began to melt away in the midday sun. She had worn a tulip petticoat, a poppy seed bodice, an acorn hat, and twigs in her hair, but why hadn’t she felt like she belonged. As, she waited there, stuck in the ground, she couldn’t help but feel lost and began to weep little dew drops once more.

Night had come by the time she had ceased sobbing; it was colder and felt damp in the surrounding air. All the Pixies began to make for their root tip homes and settle down for the night. They lay their heads onto their moss pillows and cuddled down for a long nap.

The white dot still waited outside; it was much colder now. Then all of a sudden, down from the sky came thousands of small white dots, cascading down like a shower of glitter. As their soft bottoms thumped the ground the snow pixies lifted their heads up and began to dance. The white dot collected her tears and rejoiced in the arrival of her family. These were her people.

The white dots didn’t see the autumn pixies again, for they lay hibernating until next autumn came.

 ***

Little children stood in awe peering out of their windows as the first snowflakes floated down signalling the first day of winter.

 [CB1]