Writing

Elisa glanced at the sky and tried to snuggle back into the alcove she had found in a Beech. Unfortunately it wasn't a very big alcove and her wings kept getting in the way. She pulled one over her shoulder, trying to arrange herself, but was caught looking at it. Her wings were fuchsia, like her hair, and transparent. She had very pretty wings, everybody said so. In fact, everyone said she was a very pretty fay, altogether. Her skin was duck-egg blue, and her antennae where a darker blue. Some people said she would look prettier if she pierced her sharply pointed ears, but Elisa didn't think she would.

She looked again at the sky, but it did not look good, not good at all. The clouds were a deep blue colour, like a big bruise, and the light was more of an odd golden haze. She pulled anxiously at her green beaded necklace. The air was wrong too; smelt wrong, and felt so still and oppressive.

Abruptly Elisa realised she was tugging at her necklace, and stopped. She mustn't do that, it might break, and she liked it very much. She had been given it at the mid-summer dance, by a nice boy-fay. Elisa smiled at the memory. She liked him very much too.

But her smile faded as she heard the first rumble of thunder. This was the first time she wouldn't be at home for a storm, and she was very scared. If only she had listened to the elders, and not gone out. She huddled deeper into the alcove and tried to pull her mismatched autumnal coloured dress further around herself. There was no wind yet, but it felt suddenly colder and the sky had darkened quite substantially. Elisa shut her eyes, and tried to think happy thoughts.

A time later Elisa risked another peak at the sky. It was much darker, and a wind had sprung up, cold and biting. The clouds had thickened and were being pushed boiling, ahead of the wind. She heard yet another rumble of thunder, seemingly closer and CKEICKEEE! The sky lit up with a sudden and violent electric blue light, and the storm was on top of her. It was as though the lightning has been some celestial trigger; the wind accelerated to shake the trees, the clouds began to drop their load in big splattering drops of rain and the sky had darkened to a murky blackness.

A huge gust of wind rocked her beech and knocked Elisa from her alcove. She cried out as she tumbled along the branch. If the silence of before had been oppressive, the sound of the wind and rain and thunder was deafening now. On hands and knees, Elisa tried to crawl back to her alcove, but a huge raindrop crashed down on her, knocking her off balance, and nearly knocking her from the branch. Elisa clung on, desperately trying to haul herself back, but another gust of wind caught her now outspread wings and tore her from the branch. She screamed as it pulled her along hither and thither, like an autumn leaf. She cried out again, and again as loose twigs and other flying debris caught her wings and limbs. She tried to fly, to right herself, but the wind mercilessly continued to batter her, until, THUNK! Elisa slammed into a tree and was finally knocked unconscious.

She woke again, but this time in dew filled grass and blinded by the sun. Elisa tried to move, but her whole body ached and screamed from a thousand cuts. Carefully and painfully she crawled to a pool of water. As she stared into the pool, she hardly recognised the fay that stared back. Her clothes were ripped and torn, but not as much as her wings; they were almost non-existent. Elsia had no idea where she was, and no idea what to do. All she could do was sit and sob with hopelessness, for her situation and for her marred visage.