These chapters will be short, as this is by definition a short story. I should be finishing it relatively quickly, within the next two weeks, and will post chapters at a regular schedule. -grins- I'd love reviews, should you care to leave them.
Disclaimer: I own neither Stolen Child by Yeats nor Harry Potter by Rowling. No infringement is intended by this fic.
Stolen Child
Where dips the rocky highland
of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
there is a leafy island
where flapping herons wake
the drowsy water rats;
there we've hid our faery vats
full of berries
and of reddest stolen cherries.
It was a picturesque setting, had the child known such terms. He didn't, of course, as he was very young; but he did know that he was happy. It was sun-shiny. His tummy was full from nursing. His nappy wasn't wet. His parents were cooing at him.
Mama and Dada were sitting on the blankets sharing some grown-up food. But he was already full. Now he wanted to look around. He rolled over onto the grass, pushed himself up on stubby hands and knees. His mouth made a small round circle of wonder. There was so much color!
The grass was very soft. There weren't even any sticks in it to hurt his hands. He pushed off courageously.
Unfortunately, the child was on a gently sloping hill. His limbs gave out and he rolled down to the grass-covered base. He whimpered. That hadn't been very fun. Now his tummy hurt, a little. He gave an experimental sniffle. But Mama and Dada were still at the top, and they didn't hear. He stopped and looked back up the hill. It was big!
Oh well. He turned around and looked in the other direction. There was a very big blue thing. Water? It didn't look like the colorless stuff his mama washed him with. But then a fish jumped. The splash did look like the ones he made with his hands. He crawled closer to the big water and put his hand in. It was cold! He crawled a few feet backwards and sat.
There was brown and green in the middle of the big water. It looked like trees. Why were they in the water? He wanted to see, but he didn't want to touch the water. Instead he went around it, humming softly. The grass tickled his face, but he got closer to the brown thing. There were animals laying on it, he saw now. A big birdie flew over him to the brown, and one of the animals woke up and snorted at it. Then it went back to sleep. He kept going.
And then he stopped and sat up. He was very close to the brown now, and it was dirt and trees and grass and… He squinted. What were those?
Big tubs full of red stuff sat underneath the trees. They smelled good, like the little cookies Mama sometimes gave him. His mouth watered.
There were people around the tubs! Big people, but not so big. They were littler than Mama and lots littler than Dada. They were almost as much littler as him, but they were flying like the birdie did. They wore pretty clothes, too, blue and green and white and red like the stuff in the tubs. They were singing. He stared.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
with a faery, hand in hand,
from a world more full of weeping than you can understand.
He understood the words. They were very beautiful. And the smells smelled so yummy. And he wanted to see them closer. Somehow he could tell that they were nice people, not bad ones. He put one chubby hand in the water and pulled it back out. How would he cross?
But they understood. They flew to him and surrounded him. He could go across the water now, he knew, if he wanted to. He put his hand back. It wasn't cold, anymore. It was nice and a little bit cool, like Mama's hands when it was hot outside. He rolled back onto his belly and pushed himself up. Now he put both his hands in the water and started crawling.
"Harry? Harry!"
Why was his Mama calling him?
"Harry!"
Now his Dada was calling too. Why? Didn't they know where he was? Mama and Dada always knew where he was. That was how things were.
"Harry!"
They didn't sound like they did… They sounded not-right. He wrinkled his face. That wasn't how they were supposed to sound. Were they okay? He stopped, even though he'd only gone a little little ways. Even his feet were still touching the grass. The pretty people swirled around him. They wanted him to come.
Mama and Dada appeared at the top of the hill. Mama's pretty red hair was flying everywhere, and Dada's glasses weren't straight. They had funny faces on. But not happy faces, like when they cooed to him. Something was very not-right. He turned around to the grass. He could go at a not-now. This now he had to find out why Mama and Dada were not-right and what the funny faces meant.
The pretty people were sad. They went back to their tubs. He could still hear them singing to him. We'll come back, they told him. We'll miss you. We hope you'll come, next time. They waved bye-bye to him. He waved back.
Then Mama and Dada saw him, and they ran down very fast. Mama picked him up. She was crying. Dada hugged him and Mama. There was water on his face, too. He didn't know why. He was fine. They stood still for a little now, and then started back up the hill.
He waved bye-bye to the pretty people at the top.
He hoped he'd see them again.
Reviews would be nice... Oh, come on, folks, how else am I ever supposed to improve if you won't drop me a line or two? Please? -hopeful expression - Besides, then I'll update faster. Shall we say, a minimum of either five reviews or ten days before the next chapter goes up? I don't think that's too audacious, do you?