Book 1. The Book of Heart

The Fairy of Dew
 
(philosophical fairy tale)
            
By Alex Dihes
      
 
Foreword
 
These are only several lines; some hearty and disturbing lines, which I address to a Reader whose curiosity has been awaken by the word “philosophical” in the subtitle.
My dear reader, I need you to get to the reason why I have written the tale. There are some threads, which I have en-weaved into the canvas of the narration and which I don’t want you to miss.
The people come into this world as creatures in a form as either a male or a female. Some even manage to turn into a human being as either a man or a woman. They are the ones who are able to get a soul, but this takes effort.
Only men and women experience Love; while males and females have merely sex.
At the time of hyper-attention to sexuality in our society, I dare to claim that there are neither means nor tricks to help a creature to experience Love, because Beauty and Love live in the realm of human beings.
My tale challenges you, my dear reader: persevere to turn the creature in yourself into a human being.
   
Author.

 

Let Us Get Acquainted
 
 
Good afternoon, my little friend. Or maybe it is a quiet evening that is warmly hugging you now. Time makes no difference; your kind heart and your dear attention I have, and it is the most important thing in the world for me. Let me share with you a little secret: I am an old man, yet I am as fond of fairy tales as you are. For a long time I have been carrying in my memory a fairy tale, which you have probably never heard before, and which I call mine. Now, I feel, is the right time to give it to you. Then, let me start.
Once upon a time…
Oh my goodness… I am sorry. I have to apologize, my dear reader, as I’ve changed my mind. There is more than a fairy tale in that story. So let me, sweetheart, tell you—step by step—how I, being already a grown-up and quite a serious man, encountered my fairy tale. Would you like to know what I mean by my fairy tale? Well, sit down, please, trust me your attention, and keep listening...
 
Book 1
               
THE BOOK OF HEART
   
    
CHAPTER 1
 
The Quiet Life of Greenigreen
 
This story took place many years ago in a town with the wondrous name of Greenigreen. It is the town where I was born, brought up, and became a grown-up man.
I left Greenigreen only once to graduate college and become a teacher. I married while I was away and upon returning, my wife and I had a baby daughter. The three of us loved each other tenderly and we were a strong and happy family. Our house was small, yet cozy, and was entirely immersed in the woods—much like the rest of the town.
The people of Greenigreen met us warmly, and the following fall I started teaching in the town’s only school.
    
CHAPTER 2
 
Picture of Greenigreen
 
Now, my respectful friend, it is time to invite you into my Greenigreen. Alas, there is an obstacle here; being a writer, I can carry out such a task only through words, yet that, as you know, would never suffice to bring a fairy tale to life. For that purpose—with your permission, of course—I invite you to use your imagination. With its help we are going to create a picture of that lovely town. So it would be tremendously kind on your part to take out your drawing tools and a sheet of paper to clothe my words into your favorite colors. I am sure you know exactly what I mean, don’t you, my dear?
Are you ready? Well, let’s start from the river, which is sliding along the bottom edge of your picture. Usually, when coloring a river, people use a pure blue. But we, the local dwellers, called our river the Silver Snake: that was how it appeared to us, zigzagging, rustling, and whispering amidst the hills, trees and bushes, splashing them with zillions of laughing diamonds from the dancing sunrays. So, now it is up to your fantasy to choose an appropriate color or colors. And I see you’ve already guessed that the second part of the river’s name prompts you with an idea of its shape.
Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt you, but are your hardworking fingers becoming tired? Let’s take a short break before we take the next step.
 
CHAPTER 2 (the continuance)
 
Working Hard
 
The next step:
At the center of the picture, beyond the Silver Snake (on your paper it is just above the river), I want you to place an elevated area, more like a rise than a true hill. That is where our Greenigreen was situated. By using all of the greens available to you, I want you to adorn the hill with all kinds of trees and bushes.
Unfortunately, after that, due to our people’s love for greens, there would not be too many details of the town that the bird’s eye might spot among the quivering waves of the murmuring leaves. Nevertheless, let our eyes catch some roofs (of a house, a barn, maybe of a stable, as well); add a couple slices of streets with horse carts and carriages along them; some colorful flowerbeds; children playing in the schoolyard; and… whatever your fancy might suggest as you are the master of the painting.
Now, my diligent artist, switch your attention to the Main Square on the top of the rise. Here, I want you to build a small school, a Christian church with a slim bell-tower, and a synagogue. Do not forget to show, please, how the only paved road binds the square to a landing stage onto the Silver Snake’s bank.
One more time, turn to the green palette and—on the left side of the hill and on its right side—grow a bright aromatic grass, embroidering it with the flickers of colorful flowers and berries. Let herds of cows and horses browse around, and have, why not, a shepherd with a dog or two taking care of them. Are you done with it? Do you like it? Let me look, please. Well. It is breathtaking... I do like it! Now I want you to know that all that beauty you have just finished, we called the Sweethoney Meadow.
Do you need one more break? It is ok with me. Rest your lovely digits.
   
CHAPTER 2 (the end)
 
Finishing the Picture
 
Now, let’s employ our green gamut the last time. Choose the darkest hues, and all the free space along the upper edge of the picture you can cover with a mass of a huge olden days’ forest. That grandeur ocean of greens we called the Enchanted Forest; and later on, I will walk you into it.
Oh, my goodness! I am so sorry… There is one more thing, which I have almost forgotten. And it is an important one. Beyond the hill, somewhere in the halfway between our town and the Enchanted Forest, find a nice, cozy place for an amazingly colorful small house. That house is quite important to the furtherance of my narration, because the owner of that house plays a short, yet vital, role in this story. So at least let the pink roof of that house be seen on your picture. Thank you; and now it is time to move our attention further.
    
CHAPTER 3
 
The Bad Luck
 
When my daughter Alla caught the cold she was five. It was November. At the very beginning of the illness Mama and I did not give too much attention to it. A cold is only a cold. Running nose, a little bit nervous, some fatigue, bitter medicine, etc… you know all that stuff, don’t you? These things were occurring so often around us, and we, like most of the parents, had gotten accustomed to it.
However, this time the illness did not go away easily. Our tender heart was growing weaker and less talkative—and then she lost her appetite.
Following the doctor’s recommendation, we took our poor girl to the best clinic in our state. Nevertheless, there was no help there either. And worst of all, the doctors left us not even a crumb of hope. Not only were they unable to cure our sweetheart, they could not even diagnose the illness.
Finally, after ten horrible months and every effort, the last doctor gave up.
    
CHAPTER 4
 
Seeking Help
 
From now on, the only people in the world that simply could not surrender were Mama and I.
One more month went by. Our sweet flower could not leave her bed anymore. More and more often I would find her in an eerie silence, shedding tears, staring into nowhere. Were I to ask about the cause of her sorrow, she, barely moving her lips, would look sadly at me, uttering not a word. Staring into the depth of her eyes I drew the conclusion that she had no answer.
Our sufferings seemed endless. Finally, a day came when the despair, timidly revolving around our house, entered impudently and seemed to have no intention of leaving us.
Mama and I tried everything. I began writing letters to the people I believed could be of any help to us. The last letter I wrote was to my Aunt Minnie (she was, by the way, such a stupendous woman that close relatives and friends called her simply Mini).
    
CHAPTER 5
 
Small Words About a Big Woman
 
To tell you the truth, I kind of… let me put it softly… it was not easy for me to tolerate Aunt Mini. And why? You judge for yourself. The woman was almost seven feet tall and a restless four-hundred pounds of boiling energy. The fiery turmoil of red wire on her head she called a hairdo. She walked like an elephant, she spoke like an elephant, she was strong like an elephant, and what was the worst of all—she smoked. Of course, she did not smoke like an elephant (elephants do not smoke, as you know), so she smoked like a… a volcano. And when I say a volcano, you better think of a real steaming one!
My wife and daughter admired Aunt Mini tremendously, and she allowed them to call her Mini. On her part, Aunt Minnie loved all of us, me included. She was especially mad about Alla, adored her always, and called only her “my heart’s joy.”
    
CHAPTER 6
 
Aunt Minnie Joins the Army
 
Having mentioned Aunt Minnie, I cannot help but insert in the story some of my memories devoted to this distinguished woman and her great family. In case you do not particularly feel like listening to it, skip it. Jump to the next chapter if you want to.
So... Minnie was the elder of my father’s numerous siblings. All of their large family then resided in Greenigreen.
That particular summer, when Minnie had nearly crossed the 22nd line of her life, a vanguard regiment of one of our armies camped for a short while in and by Greenigreen. Early on, Minnie expressed a desire to join the regiment. No one was able to deter her. Without delay, young Minnie enrolled as a nurse and left her native town forever.
Taking into consideration her physical attributes, which I have already described, it was rather natural that she was immediately and facetiously dubbed Mini-Nurse.
    
CHAPTER 7
 
A Secret Of The Young Heart
 
The soldiers respectfully admired the new nurse who seemed to have no fear at all. Due to her tremendous physical strength, she was able to pull out two casualties at a time from the battlefield. Many soldiers owed their very lives to the nurse. Unfortunately, the very same remarkable quality was the prime reason that the guys were afraid of wooing her. Mini-Nurse could pluck out a cannon stuck in the mud like a toy; one wrong word or even an awkward gesture and an inept wooer could fly like a doll into the fence, or, if particularly lucky, over it.
Nevertheless, it was obvious that the girl was not worrying about those lads at all. By peering into Minnie’s soul, a sensitive man could discover a secret, which was overfilling her sensitive heart: this heart did not belong to her anymore.
From their first encounter her heart became trapped in a complete and hopeless captivity of the best officer of our army, Lieutenant Eugene O’Jay. “Why hopeless?” I assume you would like to ask me. Well, the lieutenant was barely over five feet tall, which was a seemingly insurmountable obstacle between two loving hearts, according to tradition.
    
CHAPTER 8
 
THE HEROIC RESCUE
 
Captain Eugene O’Jay was widely renowned and highly respected for his honesty, and responsibility, as well as to the way he took care of his subordinates. For his valor and intelligence the soldiers called him “our General.” There was a motto running amidst the soldiers of his battalion: “our General fears no devil.”
On the day of the Great Battle of Gatesburg there was a horrible rumor that the lieutenant had been killed in the still unfinished action. The rumor pierced the loving girlish heart of Minnie and resounded as an appeal for immediate help.
Minnie rushed to the battle place. When she emerged onto the field in her full height, no enemy dared to shoot at her. Following the call of her heart, she headed to the hottest spot of the battle, which was heaped with the dead bodies from both sides. From under one of these horrible piles, Minnie pulled out the breathless body of her beloved, and carried him quickly to the hospital. There the doctors found, to everyone’s joy, that the young officer was still very much alive, albeit in critical condition.
    
CHAPTER 9
 
Alive and In Love
 
Having just opened his eyes after a successful operation, the first things the young man encountered were those two blue girlish eyes radiating such an immense love and concern, which penetrated to the very bottom of his heart with such an enormous power that it was simply impossible not to respond with a feeling of the same passion and hope.
The wedding, which followed soon, rather resembled a battle. Uncorking bottles thundered louder than any howitzer, and their contents knocked off our forces with even greater success.
Although the young couple did intend to have children, they still decided to bind their common fate with the army. So, the new family’s wheels started rolling—winding up along the harsh roads of war.
You may know, dearest friend, there is not much entertainment in the ascetic military life. However, it did not take the soldiers long to redress the old motto. In new attire it appeared: “our General fears no devil, but both are afraid of the General’s wife.”
    
CHAPTER 10
 
From Our General To A General
 
Since the wedding day, Minnie was yearning for a daughter, but that dream never came about. A boy followed a boy, and every one was fiery red, like his mother. The lads grew up, ate, played, and slept with the troops. Everyone loved the Major Eugene O’Jay’s sons and took proud care of them so that each boy had his own nicely adjusted uniform, plus a wooden rifle and bayonet. In addition, one brother was presented with a bugle and he was taught how to play military signals, known as bugle call.
Some more years passed along, and the family of the heroic Colonel was now well known across the country. There was a photo in the newspapers, taken at a reception given by the Commander-in-Chief and his wife, in honor of the ablest and bravest. At the reception Colonel Eugene O’Jay was awarded the next rank and became the youngest general in the country.
 Eventually the family became too large to follow the army. There were, sorry about my memory, at least 12 boys. So, once the Great War was over, the aged General Eugene O’Jay and his wife retired.
    
CHAPTER 11
 
The Hospitable House
 
The family settled down in one of the fast growing southern cities. It was the very city where I went to attend college and become a teacher.
At that time the brothers had already grown up and flew out all over the country building their own nests.
I used to visit my uncle’s hospitable home with a humble reverence and the burning expectation of great stories. The door of the house was always generously open to the needy, and at the large table was enough room for loyal friends and relatives, as well as their jokes and memories. One such reunion I remember vividly.
    
CHAPTER 12
 
Soldiers Remember
 
As usual, after a hearty dinner, the entire company moved over to the fireplace. As usual, everyone was speaking loudly, slightly elated by good wine, strong tobacco, and my Aunt’s Minnie homemade beer. And as usual, I hid myself in a far corner, greedily, like a sponge, soaking up every word.
“Do you happen to know, my dearest fellows,” started a stout gray-haired sergeant, with a rubber patch in place of his left eye, “I was actually awarded this honorary sword for my cowardice?”
“Cowardice? You are… a coward? I don’t believe it,” a hairy cavalry Captain shouted in amazement, gesturing with his right arm (the left one was lost up to the shoulder). “Tell us about it.”
“Well,” the sergeant sighed, “it’s not going to be easy.” There was a long pause, while he was deciding what to do. “OK,” he exhaled heavily, “just don’t interrupt.”
   
CHAPTER 13
 
The Big Soldiers
 
“The news came that the campaign was over and everyone relaxed. Suddenly, we, the exhausted remainder of a former regiment, came across a stray enemy group that was three times as large as ours and quite as well equipped. The group had lost any connection to their headquarters and knew nothing about the announced truce agreement. Their commander declined our armistice proposal—we had to fight.
“There was another option: to dive into the hills. Taking into account our lack of ammunition, weary horses, fatigued people, our feet worn down to blood, that maneuver would give us a minute chance to avoid complete defeat. Instead, our illustrious Colonel, Sir Eugene O’Jay, withdrew us into a narrow valley, which, we soon found out, was locked up by an insurmountable bog. It was a place to win or die.
“On the eve of the battle, the Colonel gave us a speech. As usual, it was brief and simple: ‘The cannons start before the dawn—up to the last shell. With the sunrise (it will be behind us) we all attack—all, including the artillerists, cooks, and repair men. The spirit is with us. So,’ he paused for a moment, ‘my friends, let your courage make up for our friends who have fallen. May God bless us all. Amen.’
“Not everyone was in agreement with the plan. Yes, the narrowness of the valley would not let our foes use their advantage in quantity. Yes, the sun would blind the enemies, shooting from behind us. But the spirit… the spirit is elusive and at times a tricky gadget.
“The next morning, after the angry cannons had stopped spitting out their iron curses, the first sun ray fell onto the battlefield. It lit upon our colonel. He stood at attention on a mound, open to all winds and deaths. The colonel raised his sword and called us into attack. And then… what happened was something that the Colonel had never expected: no one followed him.
“Each of us knew the war was over; that this was an absolutely stupid, unnecessary battle, and it would be the last for our company. There was nothing to fight for any longer. That thought had knocked our courage away and paralyzed our muscles.
“After being overwhelmed in the beginning, the enemy began to solidify their gunfire. I was lying face down, absolutely ashamed. I felt… I could even touch the precious seconds that were rushing past, taking away our only chance of victory.
“Suddenly there was a bugle call. The sound was weak, yet clear; I heard it with my heart and I looked up. The Colonel was still there on the mound and with him, on both sides, standing motionlessly abreast, were his most loyal soldiers: his dearest sons. The bugler was playing the attack; the call soared up and died away. Ahead, towards the enemy, marched the Colonel, followed by his fearless escort with their wooden rifles and wooden bayonets.
“Bullets were singing death and horror and blew out the soil from under their feet. Then suddenly, one boy fell to the ground. My God! And behind this incredible army, stood, like petrified, the Colonel’s wife with the youngest clasped against her heart.
“The bugle flew up again and the sound filled me with such humiliating pain that in a split second a wave of shame threw me and every one else out of hiding. The squall of our vengeance swept away the astounded enemy. Our losses were minimal. Without taking into account such small details as my lost eye, for instance, it was a real triumph. It was all thanks to the Colonel and his family.”
“Yes,” sighed the Captain, “it was a great time of great people.”
Before speaking out, a tall, toothless soldier with a prosthesis in place of his right leg carefully checked if Aunt Minnie was out of the room.
“Do you remember, fellows, we used to say: the wounded get up, if our General leads us; the dead fight when his wife is behind us.”
“Thank you, my dearest friends,” replied Uncle Eugene. “Those were very pleasant memories. Yet, let’s stop talking about my wife and me. Let us drink to the memory of the friends who remained on those damned fields. They were better than us. Let’s sing our song!”
    
CHAPTER 14
 
The Song
 
Be you, my heir, young or old,
Bow in respect, don’t waste a word,
To our silent graves.
We left you Freedom, so it waves,
Would fly our flag above the world.
It was the cause we died for,
We’ve paid the price. What could we more!
America’s my love.
America’s my love.
In a shiny day,
In a rainy day,
America’s my love.
    
CHAPTER 15
 
Aunt Minnie Is With Us
 
Now is the right time to return into Greenigreen.
After getting my letter, Aunt Minnie arrived by the first available steamer. Unfortunately, Uncle Eugene O’Jay was not with us anymore.
Usually, if she felt well, Aunt Minnie would visit us in late fall, after all the wonders of nature from her garden had been canned, oiled, smoked, dried, salted, marinated, and whatever else.
Aunt Minnie kept the best memories about the town of her youth. She knew by heart every corner of its streets, squares, and thoroughfares. She knew all of the families by name, and had known more about each than they knew themselves.
Although July was still in a full swing, despite the distance and some health problems, she abandoned everything as unimportant and hurried over to save her heart’s joy.
Immediately upon arriving, Aunt Minnie started her energetic and relentless activity. A great deal of ado and calamity was added to our life, but it brought no improvement upon our daughter.
    
CHAPTER 16
 
Unexpected Twist
 
On the third day after Aunt Minnie’s arrival we had a brief conversation, which changed the line of events drastically. Did I say a conversation? Well, let me put it this way: it was not a customary conversation. Rather, Aunt Minnie dragged me through an inquisition. She started quietly.
“I am sorry to bother you, my dear nephew, but I see no prescription from Dr. Our Healing Magician.” Then, she ended sharply and acrimoniously, “Why is that?”
“Who?” I asked, as I didn’t understand. “What are you talking about?”
“What do you try to render up by your stupid ‘who’!?” blew up Aunt Minnie. “Oh, my God! My heart’s joy is dying, but her so-called Papa has not shown her to the best doctor in the world.”
    
CHAPTER 17
 
Doctor Our Healing Magician
 
My wife looked at me questioningly with hope lighting her exhausted eyes.
“You see,” I attempted to explain to her, “the man Aunt Minnie is referring to, was a doctor whom the locals dubbed Dr. Our Healing Magician, firstly due to his unbelievable success; and secondly, due to respect for his age. He was so old that no one ever saw him young and no one remembered his real name. Unfortunately, he lived in our town many years back and...”
“What is your tongue milling?” interrupted Aunt Minnie. “Who lived? Why lived? What tense are you in, my respectable teacher?”
“I guess you meant the doctor who lived in the house between…”
Aunt Minnie broke my explanation again. “Yes, yes. I meant and I mean the doctor, the same small, yes, not quite young gentleman with a silver goatee and that charming pince-nez on his beautiful bulging nose—God bless his heart—who did live… and still lives on the skirt of the town in that tiny, cozy house under a pink roof with his inseparable friends and assistants, Ms. Loyally Wisehead and Mr. Genuine Droog. I feel sorry for you, my nephew. You, as one of a few teachers of this town, must know its notable citizens.”
    
CHAPTER 18
 
My Doubts
 
“Aunt Minnie, I can still recall him. But since he introduced us to his young successor, whom he himself brought to the town (over 20 years ago, by the way), Dr. Our Healing Magician ceased his private practice. No one has seen him in years. To tell you the truth, many believe that he has passed away. When I was a child, there was a rumor that he was over hmm, hmm… (I just didn’t dare to utter the number) so many years of age. Besides, Aunt Minnie, what kind of help could you expect? He was merely a provincial doctor; a healer of humans and animals.”
“A healer?! I feel pity for you, teacher. You have no right whatsoever to judge that honorable man and besides, judge him so low. Firstly, to my knowledge, he saved your life at least two times. Secondly, he is still very much alive. Just last week charming Ms. Loyally Wisehead brought me a fresh supply of herbs and a birthday card signed by Dr. Our Healing Magician, Ms. Loyally Wisehead, and Mr. Genuine Droog.”
My wife and I looked at each other not knowing to what to believe.
“Who brought it to you?” asked my wife, “And who signed? What are you both arguing about?”
“I am shocked,” Aunt Minnie looked bitterly disappointed. “Have you not known yet that Ms. Loyally Wisehead is a respectful owl, quite of a middle age, my guess would be... 300 years or a little younger; and Mr. Genuine Droog is a charming dog. He is a real youngster—only 230 years of age. How old Mr. Our Healing Magician is, I don’t know exactly. He is not a boy, it is for sure; besides, any age of his does not pertain to our case in a smallest degree.”
I attempted to calm her down by saying, “It is ok, Aunt Minnie. But… who, you said, signed the card? An owl? A dog!”
“Why a dog? Did I say dog? Sorry. Of course, not! Mr. Genuine Droog is a polite and well educated gentleman, except… you see, it is kind of difficult for his paws to hold a pen. It was Ms. Loyally Wisehead who signed the card on his behalf. Why cannot you both understand such an easy thing?”
She was furious again.
    
CHAPTER 19
 
The Doctor’s Assistants
 
“Ok, ok, Aunt Minnie, I’ve got it. Please, calm down. Yes, there was always a rumor flying around about the strange friendship, but no one wanted to admit all that stuff as truthful. Why don’t you tell us what you know? Yet… you are not going to tell us they could speak, are you? I don’t mean the doctor, of course.”
“What a stupid question! Of course they do speak,” Aunt Minnie twisted her thin lips. “However, having mentioned Ms. Loyally Wisehead and Mr. Genuine Droog, there is a communication problem. Mr. Droog understands and reads English (and several other tongues) impeccably, but can speak only the Doggish language. Luckily, Ms. Loyally Wisehead is a perfect interpreter. She speaks both English and Doggish. So when they go to the Enchanted Forest to collect the medicinal herbs, roots, berries, and all that stuff, you know… it is usually Mr. Genuine Droog who finds them. Then they discuss the usage, dosage… whatever. Needless to say that Ms. Loyally Wisehead with her fantastic memory and phenomenal experience can attribute tens of thousands of various remedies… Well,” Aunt Minnie sharply handed the reins to me, “it is not the right time for talking. Now, my nephew, I want you to invite Dr. Our Healing Magician here and I want you start moving right now.”
    
CHAPTER 20
 
On the Doctor’s Odds
 
What could I do? I possessed not enough courage to disobey, so I went to harness our horse. I did not feel like going at all. Truthfully, I had not forgotten the doctor. On the contrary, I remembered him too well. In our town the doctor had a reputation of... how to put it right... a reputation of being a funny or rather an odd man. Behind his back people—some jokingly, others seriously—called him a weirdo.
I must admit that he treated his patients fantastically successfully. Yet, many of us felt uneasy resorting to his help. And let me tell you why.
To each of his patients the Doctor ordinarily supplied medicine prepared by himself. But, wait! There was an advice or two added to his medical recommendations, to which meticulous adherence was a must, as part of the necessary condition of the curing process.
Judge it yourself. To an old woman, having a problem with her gall bladder, he prescribed “stop spreading gossip.”
To a young woman complaining of migraines, he advised her to “talk less and read more.”
To a seriously sick boy, who, just as with my daughter, the other doctors gave up trying to cure, Dr. Our Healing Magician wrote in the prescription: “Papa and Mama must stop bickering!!!” Yes, he put it exactly that way with the three exclamation marks. Isn’t it strange? Of course, who is arguing? It is a blessing when there is peace and agreement in family. But except for that advice, Dr. Our Healing Magician gave the boy no drugs at all. And would you like to know the end of that case? As soon as love and care returned in the family the boy quickly recovered.
Smart people explained the result as a mere coincidence; and the fools continued doubting the doctor’s methods.
    
CHAPTER 21
 
Solemn Arrival
 
When I was about to go, Aunt Minnie changed her mind. She decided that she should go by herself, for Dr. Our Healing Magician might refuse to receive me.
In a half an hour or so a bizarre noise outside the house drew our attention. Looking out of the window I observed a funny scene. Our cart was behind the gate and the horse, like a dumbstruck fool, stared over the fence at something in our front yard. I followed the stare and saw Aunt Minnie strolling towards the door. She had, oh my goodness, an angry Dr. Our Healing Magician (a well-dressed gentleman with a silver moustache and a triangular professor beard, with a pince-nez dangling from his ear) under her right arm, a leash, with a vehemently resisting huge, black, hairy dog, entwined around her left arm; and a big angry owl sat on the top of what had been a stylish hat before the trip. The owl shouted out quite frantic expressions, some of which I would not like you to hear at all.
    
CHAPTER 22
 
The Examination
 
However, at the front door the company turned quiet and serious (it took time, of course). Upon entering the house Dr. Our Healing Magician lifted his hat and the three guests bowed to us silently. The Doctor asked to wash his hands, adjusted his pince-nez and headed towards our daughter’s room as if he already knew everything in the house. The assistants followed him solemnly.
Inside, he politely, yet decisively, tapped me out of the room, at the same time gesturing to my wife, and, to her greatest surprise, Aunt Minnie as well, to follow me.
I am sorry to admit that I couldn’t help but peek into the keyhole to see what was going on.
I saw how active was Dr. Our Healing Magician during that meticulous examination. He grumbled, griped and groused. He stared, heeded, frowned. He tilted his head, puffed his cheeks, and clicked with his tongue. All the time Mr. Droog—his front paws on the bed—stood still nearby, with Ms. Wisehead sitting on his shoulder. The two assistants, thoroughly concentrating, observed the ceremony, heeding to each detail.
Toward the end, the amazing trinity started exchanging opinions. The doctor, shrugging skeptically, chided, reproved, reproached, and objected to his assistants. He raised his eyes, drew together his eyebrows, and now and then threw brief questions to my daughter. What was he saying?
I was unable to make it out.
    
CHAPTER 23
 
Council of the Trinity
 
Having finished the examination, Dr. Our Healing Magician moved over to the table.
For several endless minutes he was sitting silently, absorbed in thought. With his eyes squinting, he looked now at his assistants, now at the ceiling, then at the walls and the floor—all the while sifting an old tune through his silver moustache.
At last, he rubbed his small hands, sighed with relief, and the three of them started a discussion. At one point, Dr. Our Healing Magician turned his head back and threw a long, musing gaze through the door, behind which we all were waiting impatiently for his decision. For a moment, his eyes flashed mischievously, and smiling, he leaned over the table and wrote a short prescription.
Having looked at his face, I sighed with relief as well. The expression was so candid that I was able to read it easily, and the first word of it was HOPE.
Then the company reopened the discussion. Finally, Ms. Loyally Wisehead took over the pen and wrote something briefly on the doctor’s paper. No objection followed. Then the unbelievable trio left the room solemnly, the way they entered in.
    
CHAPTER 24
 
The Disease of the Unburgeoned Soul
 
The good Doctor started straightforwardly. “Here is my prescription,” he said, and laid it on the table.
I glanced askance and noticed a couple of drugs and a brief recommendation written in old, fancy, elegant handwriting.
“Your daughter is ill, and rather seriously. You may have not known it, but every human being goes through this disease once during his lifetime. Usually it occurs in early childhood. The illness manifests itself as a passionate desire to see everybody happy, healthy, and immortal. There is nothing wrong with that. Nevertheless, certain measures must be undertaken, particularly with children, otherwise the consequences might be dire, and the disease incurable. One would not find a word about this disease in medical literature. There isn’t even a name for it. Nevertheless, the condition is very familiar to me, and there is a way to help. I call it the disease of the unburgeoned soul.”
    
CHAPTER 25
 
The Prescription
(the written part)
 
“Firstly, I will give the girl my drugs. I prepare them myself. All of them are based on extractions from herbs, minerals, some parts of animals. They are effective drugs, and are not harmful. She needs them to restore her physical and mental health. The amount I am leaving will suffice for a complete session. Yet,” he paused and cleared his throat mildly, “there are some other things about Alla’s mood and spirit. I am about to approach the main point of my treatment, and I want you to listen to me attentively. From now on, only you, or more precisely, your parental love, will be able to save your daughter’s life.”

CHAPTER 26
 
The Prescription
(the oral part)
 
“Let me share with you some knowledge that I have acquired about the nature of the disease. The concept I am about to present is a hard one to swallow. People customarily believe that they all are humans just by birth. It is not necessarily so. They are creatures—animals, to be precise. That’s a hard word, isn’t it? Only one who possesses a soul is a human.
“The soul is the only thing distinguishing people from animals, plants, and minerals. See it as a seed, a subtle tiny seed, planted into our hearts at birth. The time comes for the seed to grow and blossom to become a frangible beautiful flower. Unfortunately, and I emphasize this, it is the point where people fail.
“With the seed planted, I think of parents as being a diligent farmer, tending every tree as a child to help it blossom abundantly in spring and reap a gratifying crop later. Now, it is your daughter’s springtime, yet her priceless soul is rotting unattended. You, her parents, neglected to fulfill the job. You have never let your child wander into the miraculous world of fairy tales. You were afraid that the miracle and pain of that world would hurt her heart. It would, but it would also let dignity and compassion saturate her heart with the juice of life to let the seed bloom. All the smart books you have read to your child and the knowledge you have shared with her did not do that.” Dr. Our Healing Magician paused. “It is too bad. And now, an unusually acute form of this disease demands an unusual treatment.”
At that moment he raised his voice and finished meaningfully, enunciating each word, “You must bring to your daughter a-never-ever-heard fairy tale.” He paused again, looked up at us intently, and then smiled kindly. “Good luck to you.”
Against my will, I admitted to myself that at his age Dr. Our Healing Magician had a complete set of perfect teeth.
What followed was an awkward silence.
    
CHAPTER 27
 
Nothing Unusual
 
Should I tell you, my faithful reader, how greatly disappointed I was?
“Is that all?” I asked. (I admit I was not quite polite.)
“Yes, it is. What else? It is quite enough, and it is just what she needs,” said Dr. Our Healing Magician and picked up his hat.
I said a listless “Thank you” and shook his hand. He bade leave to us, and the triad disappeared behind the door. Aunt Minnie hurriedly followed them to give them a ride. My wife and I were looking at each other, not knowing what to say and how to comprehend the occurrence.
“Well, let’s do it,” uttered my wife (she was more satisfied than I), helping me to restore my balance and my calmness.
The next moment, after a short absence, Aunt Minnie came back. We stared at her, as if asking with our eyes: has anything else unusual happened?
She shrugged and said, “Everything is ok, although… Well, I don’t know…”
Now I voiced my next question, “Would you please explain to us what is the ‘ok’ that you don’t know?”
“Yes, yes,” she replied stuttering. “Eve-eve-ry-thing is ok-ke-key—noth-thing unusual. They were not in need of our horse. As a matter of fact, they were not in need of any horse at all. They disappeared... simply vanished, and it was it—nothing unusual.”
“You are right, Aunt Minnie,” I echoed her words, “there’s nothing unusual.”
    
CHAPTER 28
 
Act, If You Wand To Help
 
Aunt Minnie accepted all the recommendations with a profound confidence, unlike my wife and me; she did not share our doubts, obviously.
For half an hour I pondered over the incident. I came to the conclusion that my sadness was caused by my excessive expectations. But in reality everything seemed much easier now. Why not? I decided that in two—at the most three—hours in a library, I might be able to carry out the Dr. Our Healing Magician’s most odd prescription.
That expectation did not live long. You can imagine easily, how great my vexation was after I realized that every single book of fairy tales in the library had been read and reread a host of times.
The very same day I took a train to the state library. The result was the same and for the same reason. I asked the librarian to request the Library of Congress. However, when she grasped the purpose of my research, she expressed doubt that in the whole world such a book existed. She explained that had I ever found an unread fairy tale, there would always be the factor that that book had already been read by, at least, its editor and proofreader. Besides, she thought, it was hard to believe, that the author deprived himself of the pleasure to read it to his friends and relatives. What did make sense under the given circumstances was, in her opinion, to ask a writer to purposely make up such a fairy tale for my daughter.
It was a great idea. That day and the day after, I sent telegrams to the best writers of the world, begging them for help; I placed my plea in the largest newspapers of our country.
In a couple of days I began getting responses. Each reply sounded much like another: “I, So-and-so would be glad to help but…” The “buts” varied, promising no hope.
To my chagrin, I realized that the piles of fairy tales had been sent to us by young authors and other good Samaritans were essentially variations of existing ones. One world renowned writer finalized my agony by putting in plain words: “That to create a new fairy tale, probably, is the most challenging request for any author; and it is merely impossible to make up a fairy tale at your will. The inspiration comes if it will. When? Why? How? Who knows…”
    
CHAPTER 29
 
A New Lead
 
With that message in my hand I returned home and fell into a chair absolutely exhausted and endlessly hopeless. My wife and Aunt Minnie, who meanwhile were reading to Alla the best fairy tales of the world, came out to me. My wife took the telegram and read it aloud.
“It is the end,” I said mournfully. “I’ve exhausted all thinkable opportunities. The professionals cannot help us. The amateurs are unable. There is no sense to ask old people: each tale they know was heard by them from someone older. There is no help.”
“Wait a minute, my nephew. It’s clear to me that you applied not enough attention when our dearest doctor asked for that,” noticed Aunt Minnie, drawing together the flames of her eyebrows.
“What do you mean, Aunt Minnie?” asked my wife. “We have followed the advice precisely, haven’t we?”
I shrugged in support, and Aunt Minnie turned to me, “Obviously, you have missed something, my dear. Don’t grow angry, please. Let’s recall each word. Where is the prescription?”
I pulled it out from the drawer and handed it to the woman, “Ok, Aunt Minnie, here it is. Show us, please, what have we missed?”
“Look here,” said Aunt Minnie excitedly, “don’t you see that?”
She pointed out the last line. Originally, I think it was, the word “find.” The word was scratched out, and above it, in horrible paw-writing, was scribbled the word “meet.” “You must MEET for your daughter a-never-ever-heard fairy tale.”
   
 
CHAPTER 30
 
Back Into Childhood
 
At that moment I endured a terrible headache. I realized that something tremendously important was hidden in the word, but what?
“Please explain to us, what does it mean?” I asked.
Aunt Minnie smiled. “Have you forgotten my grandmother, Haya? She was your great-grandmother.”
“No, of course not, but…”
“You still remember the lullabies she used to sing us every night, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do, but…”
“Be polite please, my nephew. Use a bit of patience, listen, please. What would she tell us before the lullabies?” insisted Aunt Minnie.
“Wait a minute. Wait a minute… Before the lullabies she used to tell us a fairy tale or a fancy story or an enchanting fable...”
“And every day a new one, remember?” injected my Aunt.
“Yes, yes. You’re right. I even recall to my memory how I asked her once, where did she get them. I still visualize her mischievous smile and the answer that she… that… uhm, I am not sure…” I was hesitating to bring out her words.
“Yet I’m sure, and well enough. She said that she would go to the Glade of Fairy Tales in the Enchanted Forest, and pick some of the tales up there.”
“Again?” I was frustrated. “I’ve enough to deal with. I don’t believe that stuff anymore. I’m a grown and educated man, I don’t believe in those things any longer. It must be something else, something besides all of these fantasies.”
Aunt Minnie glanced at me with anger, “Unfortunately, my dear, I can offer you nothing else. If I were the man of the house, I would have been harnessing the horse already.”
I glanced at my wife. Her eyes were brimming up with tears. I sighed. Without a word more, I took a lantern, hung a flask with fresh water onto my belt and picked up a wooden stick. When I wandered off, it was around 4:00pm. The day was warm, and the sky was cloudless.
    
CHAPTER 31
 
Was it a Good Sign?
 
The horse took me quickly out of the town. I passed Dr. Our Healing Magician’s house, which, as always, looked newly painted. There was no movement around, the house was quiet. Yet, close to the Enchanted Forest I did meet Dr. Our Healing Magician and his associates, returning home. Upon my approach the doctor stepped aside, lifted his hat, and gave me an approving smile. Mr. Genuine Droog rose on his hind paws, and barking, waved at me with his paw. Ms. Loyally Wisehead was sitting on a branch hanging over the roadway. She hooted me good luck and winked at me with her huge yellow eyes. I replied by taking off my hat and nodding to every one respectively.
    
CHAPTER 32
 
The Enchanted Forest
 
I left my horse on the outskirts of the Enchanted Forest, picked up my things, and immersed myself into the green universe. With my first step inside, the weather started changing. I was surrounded by a weird silence. Soon it was broken by a strong wind rushing through the trees raising a mournful hum. Then a biting cold fell down and embraced me. The sky was getting darker and in a short while it became as gloomy as midnight.
There was neither a light to lead, nor a kind voice to help. I had to light my lantern. Quite soon I veered away from the chosen direction, but that fact did not disturb me. Anyway, I did not know which way was right, so I kept my pace fast and hoped I was going the right way.
I do not want to hide from you, my little pal, how scary and sometimes eerie it was to stray in a forest at night. My face and body were scratched by tree branches and shrubs, my boots rubbed at my feet. Hundreds, maybe thousands of times I stumbled and fell down, yet each time I stood up and stubbornly forged ahead, exhausted—physically and mentally. But there was no power under heaven that could knock down my spirit. Concern for my family kept me moving.
If you say that you love someone, it means that you are ready to sacrifice. If someone who you love depends on you, you cannot let fears overcome you; you have no right to retreat.
    
CHAPTER 33
 
A Light of Hope
 
There came a moment when I slipped and fell into a deep ditch, sinking the lantern into the water. How I lost my stick, I had no idea. Having crawled out the ditch I felt myself on the verge of collapse. Catching my breath, I leaned against a tree trunk and, and… was that a ray of light? I stared at it in disbelief, but it did not disappear.
It was not one of those luring lights ominously bouncing atop a bottomless bog. On the contrary, it seemed to heartily invite me: “come in… come here… come closer…” The light was weak, but even, quiet and tender—like hope itself.
    
CHAPTER 34
 
A Glade
 
Needless to say, that tiny light restored my strength. I literally stomped over to it. Upon approaching I was able to determine that the flare was actually coming from a Glade, embraced with a heavily dense hedge of trees and tall bushes. I stopped behind a briar bush; I did not want to appear within the Glade unprepared. Unprepared for what, you may ask? I could not say.
I checked myself over. My clothes were rags. The visible parts of my body were scratched up and covered with caked blood and mud. My face… I could only imagine how awful I looked. While uncertain what to do, I peered into the Glade, where lo! a divine beauty was unfolding stately in front of my eyes.
    
CHAPTER 35
 
I Find the Place
 
There was still dark night around me: the sky slept under a heavy comforter of sullen clouds. There was not a star in sight.
In the Glade, against all reason, the sun seemed only just rising; and now it was busy, overflowing this green cup with a sparkling wine of its life-granting light. Everything appeared unusual in its own way. Even the air itself was soaked with an expectation of something kind and majestic.
On my left hand, a creek, babbling sweetly, was running through the Glade. It emerged from under the roots of a giant oak tree and disappeared somewhere in the density of the bushes and reeds. The air was embroidered with cheerful singing of numerous birds mixed with a low humming of the laborious insects. Sunrays lovingly caressed each twig, flower, and blade of grass—in fact, every dweller of the Glade. The clouds, as if intentionally, carefully by-passed that magnificent circle.
The powerful scent, coming from the Glade, made me dizzy and timid. In front of me opened a new and strange world, both luring and frightening. I could hear the chatting incoming from the Glade. I understood the words, and that did not surprise me. A crazy thought crossed my mind. The thought was so fantastic, yet so desirable, that I was afraid to believe it. I gazed into the Glade for a long time.
“Of course,” whispered I, “how could one be mistaken about that?”
I saw trees, flowers, shrubs, insects and animals; every being of the Glade was alive. And they were talking, chanting, arguing, whispering, and laughing—just like people.
Where did I get the ability to understand their language? I have no idea, but I did, and it came to me so naturally, so easily. There was no doubt: in front of me lay the Glade of Fairy Tales.
How about that, my little chum?!
    
CHAPTER 36
 
A New Acting Face
 
I was almost ready to emerge from my hideout, when to my right, a large brier flower, closed for night, started tilting and swaying somehow unnaturally and without any obvious cause. It suddenly opened up, thudding loudly.
I turned my head at the sound, and would you believe me, out of the petals appeared a bald, rosy human head. You just imagine that, my little friend: a flower, inside which, as if in a hotel room, a gentleman of a small size spent a night? The man was old, yet agile. How tall was he? I would say the size of your pinky.
When the petals unfolded, I couldn’t take my eyes off of his attire. I wish you could only have a glimpse at it. No, I cannot resist describing for you that wardrobe, and you, my dear reader, could draw or paint it, as you wish.
    
CHAPTER 37
 
Something about Fashion
 
Let me start with his shiny shoes (it is the way I extract a picture of that remarkable man out of my memory). The shoes were red-yellow bulb-toed on high heels, with a thick sole, and decorated with large butterfly-like bows. Each bow boasted a silver clasp, adorned with sparkling large brilliants.
Upward from the shoes, climbed horizontally multi-colored striped stockings, girded beneath the knees with wide-winged bows with sizable diamond pins at their center.
Next, the breeches. Oh, the breeches! They were magnificent, dark violet velvet, splashing out fire-like glitters. Three gold and gemstone buckles, immersed into lush bows (on the belt and under the knees), secured the old man’s breeches.
Move your eyes up and you will see a long sleeved shirt, whiter than snow and laced all over. Of course, as you would already expect, great diamond fibulas encircled by ribbons fastened the cufflinks.
There was a laced collar too. I use the word “lace” for lack of a better word. Actually, it was a white mist intertwined with a frozen rain of golden and black beads in the shape of those airy collars you can see on the pictures by the Old Masters. A showy gemmed brooch inside the lace-bow propped the collar, spilling cascades of sparkles on the gentleman’s vest.
The dark crimson vest was gleaming with large golden buttons: two on the front, vertically, one on each chest and side pockets, and two horizontally on the half-belt behind.
What amazed me even more, was that the outfit appeared freshly washed and ironed. Recollecting the fabric, I still can sense its delicate texture and aroma, so I am quite sure that the outfit of the gentleman was tailored from flower petals.
    
CHAPTER 38
 
The Amazing Resemblance
 
The old gentleman looked in a dewdrop at his reflection and grimaced discontentedly. Here momentarily a mantis-barber flew down and in no time gave the old man a shave. A beetle tilted a leaf above letting the man wash his face and hands. Several butterflies circled around to dry his face and hands. Another beetle arrived to comb his hair. The old man looked again in the “mirror” and bowing, thanked everybody.
When I had a chance to see the little man’s face better, I had sensation that I had already seen him somewhere.
His was a remarkable head. It was big—massive, like a rock polished over millenniums. The plump, rosy face was surrounded with a silver beard, linked to a thin stripe of cropped silver hair around the bottom of his head. The forehead was clear and high. Shrewd eyes under the bushy silver eyebrows were bright, deep, intelligent, and a little bit canny. The round nose was suspiciously reddish. The mouth boasted a full set of perfect teeth.
That fact and many others awakened my memory. I could almost swear that the familiar gentleman was a carbon copy of Dr. Our Healing Magician, with certain adjustments, like the beard, the lack of a pincer-nez; and different attire.
    
CHAPTER 39
 
Good Morning, Your Majesty
 
The old man picked up his collapsible top-hat and tossed it up. I bet you already know how it was decorated. Having drawn a gracious curve, the hat on the way down stopped at the briar. The old man got onto it, and the hat landed him on the bank of the creek. The old gentleman got out and gallantly bowed to each side, saying: good morning, how do you do, glad to see you, wish you the best and so on, and so on…
The following response was enthusiastic.
“Good morning, good morning, the Chief Treasurer of All Fairy Tales!” spilled the birds joyfully from the sky.
“It’s so nice to see you again,” a low voiced reply came from a gooseberry bush on that side.
“Your Majesty, come to us again soon,” was heard from a slim pine on the other side.
“We wish you a great day, Your Highness,” sang the flowers from beneath.
Everyone hurried to welcome the old gentleman, who obviously enjoyed the popularity.
“Our dearest and honorable guest, Your Majesty the Chief Treasurer of All Fairy Tales,” thundered the Giant Oak, “on behalf of the dwellers of the Glade I heartily thank you for this visit and for sharing with us your newly acquired treasures. We will impatiently wait for your next visit. Thank you and have a safe trip.”
His Majesty the Chief Treasurer of All Fairy Tales was obviously moved. He thanked all the inhabitants again and promised to be back soon.
Smiling and whistling a tune he took a reed leaf and tossed it up. Then he pulled out from his chest pocket a colorful wand and tapped the descending leaf. Upon touching the water, the leaf turned into an elegant slender boat. The Chief Treasurer of All Fairy Tales stepped into the boat and as it rocked  His Majesty dropped the wand into the fast current. Unusually agile for his age, His Majesty fished the thing out and carefully shook it, making sure that each drop fell back into the creek.
    
CHAPTER 40
 
Goodbye, Your Majesty
 
Despite the precautions, His Majesty the Chief Treasurer of All Fairy Tales failed to notice that one drop bounced to a nut bush, spreading its branches widely over the water. The drop leaped from leaf to leaf, rolled down into a crevice of one and hid.
Meantime, gesticulating with the wand as an orchestra conductor would, His Majesty picked up a spider hanging down from a twig and put him on the boat’s bow. Another wave of the wand and several dragon-flies circled over the spider. The spider emitted a bundle of cobwebs harnessing the fast horses. Then he shook the reins; the dragonflies sped up their wings and… and the boat, the spider, reining the dragonflies, and their master disappeared… vanished... into the blue.
    
CHAPTER 41
 
The Despair
 
As if petrified, I didn’t move a muscle. I was devastated. What had I done? In front of me, at the arm length I had His Majesty the Chief Treasurer of All Fairy Tales himself, but I failed to speak out.
You see, my little listener, the moment he took that small wand out of his pocket, I realized that it was a magic one. I knew it, and I, of course, was aware of its mightiness. Was I in shock? Why hadn’t I spoken? Had I been enchanted or maybe bewitched? I was so overwhelmed with all the activity being unfolded in the Glade that I failed to help my dearest daughter. I shamefully neglected my responsibility. And now did it matter the cause? I had no right to make such a blunder.
On the other hand, the entire scene rolled by so quickly. To be precise, everything—from the opening of the brier bud to the dragonflies pulling the boat away—flew by in several short minutes. However, I still had no excuse, and did not look for any. The failure was unforgivable. What could I do now?
    
CHAPTER 42
 
The Stubborn Wind
 
Pondering over the problem, I detected with the corner of my eye that a young wind emerged from the opposite side of the Glade, glittering with long silver hair. He headed straight to the bush where the drop, escaped from the magic wand, was hiding. Obviously, he somehow knew that it was there.
The silver wind flew through the bush shattering the branches, but nothing came out of it.
The entire Glade was observing his efforts in silence.
He waved his wings towards the bush, making it sway wildly. Again nothing happened.
“I know you are here!” exclaimed the wind excitedly, “Come on out.” He ran the Glade around, gaining speed and stretching out his shiny wings, and ripped through all the bushes along the creek, raising a green tempest. As a result, something like a star, tiny, yet extremely bright, sparkled out from a leaf. It was the drop the wind was looking for. Forced by the vehement rocking, the drop rolled down and shivered at the verge of the leaf, as if avoiding the fall; yet, the next moment it plummeted down. Upon hitting the water the drop scattered into a zillion glinting beads, spreading a pellucid shiny mist.
Unwillingly, I closed my eyes. Upon opening, I detected a foggy spot inside the mist. Peering into it, I was witnessing the developing appearance of an amazing heavenly creature out of that formless, chaotic cloud. She was a young lady dressed up in a fabulous gown with a vast weightless train, both sparkling and sprinkled with billions of lights.
The beauty of the maid, her posture, the manners, each gesture, those marvelous eyes, the swan-like neck, gleaming skin, and every other feature presented a young goddess.
    
CHAPTER 43
 
Fairy of Dew
 
“Look. Look over there!” excitedly exclaimed the entire Glade. “It is the Fairy of Dew! Do you see her? Oh, how beautiful she is! Welcome to our Glade, Fairy.”
“Good morning! How are you! How do you do! Visit us! Welcome!” all sorts of greetings were coming from every direction, interrupting each other in a hurry to attract Fairy’s attention.
Stunned by the unusual picture, I forgot about everything else again. Being unable to say a word, I was afraid to scare that fantastic vision that was flowing before my eyes.
Fairy replied to no one. She behaved as if there was no one around. Singing a wordless tune, Fairy carelessly began circling the Glade just above the grass and flowers. From time to time, she stepped onto some, but not one even sagged under her feet, so light was she.
“Hey, Silver Wings, where are you?” called Fairy, the young prankster.
“At your service, my beautiful master,” answered the youngster, who followed her all the time.
“Come, dance with me. Look, how beautiful every thing is around here.”
They both were laughing happily. The Fairy of Dew picked up the hem of her dress and they both circled about the Glade, like a whirl of light, youth, and happiness. The dress train flew behind them flapping up and down like a beautiful bird with translucent wet feathers. And the flight of this glittering constellation left upon everyone a pure star of water, filled up with magnificent lights. Every plant (a flower, blade of grass, leaf, and twig) asked and received a crystal drop of dew.
Losing the water, Fairy was turning paler, more translucent, and even lighter. It seemed that a little longer and she would cease to exist at all, dissolving her beauty into the surrounding world.
    
CHAPTER 44
 
Let’s Fly Away
 
Fortunately, something quite the opposite happened. Fairy flew up to the creek and immersed into it the fringe of her dress. At once all the lost features were back. And amazingly, she became even more beautiful than before.
“Oh, the Fairy of Dew, how majestic is your charm! You beauty smashes hearts without touching them,” claimed Mr. Cup-of-Flame the Tulip.
“From now on solely for you, only because of you, my songs I sing,” exclaimed Sir Rainbow-Feather the Oriole.
“The light of your eyes awoke my dreams with rays of hope and admiration,” acknowledged young Wave-of-Joy the Monarch Butterfly.
“Oh, Fairy, a child of dream and a dream yourself,” complained Sir Joyful-Arch the Rainbow, “my eyes and my heart are in a fearsome dispute. Silly, my servants, they want my enchanted brain to judge for them who loves you better. Alas, as if it were possible.”
Eventually, there was no heart on the Glade that could resist the beauty of the Fairy of Dew. Yet, she herself, like the crystals of her dew, remained calm, cold, and passionless. A civil smile, expressing neither love nor hatred, was her only response.
Having got bored at the Glade, Fairy called angrily, “Hey, Silver Wings, come here. Where are you?”
The obedient wind flew by. “I am here, my charming potentate, at your feet. I am happy to be at your service, the Queen of my heart. What is your wish? Command, I am waiting…”
“I feel like flying, Silver Wings, flying high! Fast! Away! Far, far, far away…”
“Yes, oh my adorable master,” nodded Silver Wings joyfully.
He soared up into the sky and returned with a plump cloud in his palm.
“Hi, everybody. It’s very nice to meet you all. My name is Miss Playful-Fluffy the Cloud. I am a good girl. You may call me simply Fluffy, if you wish. I am a good cloud, too. And I know that you are the Fairy of Dew, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am,” smiled Fairy. “It’s nice to meet you, too. Shall we fly?”
“Yes—let’s fly!” Playful-Fluffy agreed cheerfully.
Fairy settled down onto Playful-Fluffy the Cloud. Silver Wings pushed the girls into the shiny sky and the noisy company vanished in much the same way as His Majesty the Chief Treasurer of All Fairy Tales a short time before—vanished the way they came: too swiftly and too unexpectedly.
 
 CHAPTER 45
 
Another Failure
 
For the second time that day, I had lost a fairy tale. A fairy tale that was here, nearby, at this Glade, only several short steps away from me…
It had become obvious that something odd was going on. My behavior was unacceptable. I was doing everything awkwardly. I had to stop, change, whatever… I knew I must act. Now!
I decisively stepped forward from behind the brier bush. However, whether was it because of the bitterness in my heart, or due to some other reason, as soon as I stepped into the Glade it changed drastically. Still it was the same place; the same trees, flowers, birds. Every single thing was like before and at the same time irretrievably different.
Now, it was just one more Glade in the forest.
    
CHAPTER 46
 
A Stranger
 
Apparently, my unexpected appearance was unwelcome and scared away the miracle that animated the soul of that world. For some reason that world only accepted me as a stranger. It did not trust me. I recalled the doctor’s  advice, and sadly lowered my head. What should I do?
I tiredly staggered towards the creek. It did not tinkle anymore. Now it was a creek like many forest creeks. I rinsed my face, drank, filled up my flask, and walked back. I did not think about the direction: I did not even care where I was walking and why. Bitter sadness squeezed my heart.
Standing idly behind the bush, doing nothing, I had betrayed the people dearest to my heart—I, who was their last and only hope. As I was leaving, the air of the Glade was getting thicker and darker. And then, a minute later, after I was again enveloped by a night forest, I was no longer amazed.
Nevertheless, I came out of the Enchanted Forest somewhat easily and precisely where I had left my horse. The time here was just before dawn.
    
CHAPTER 47
 
The Water
 
The town was cuddling under the dusky quilt of the night. I had no light on me, but lucky for me, the familiar “tunes” of Aunt Minnie’s snoring led my horse straight to my house. Inside, I found my tired wife asleep in the chair by the door of our daughter’s room.
Poor dear woman, she was so worn out that my arrival did not awaken her. I entered our daughter’s room. As any sick child, Alla slept nervously, anxiously relentlessly moving her head, arms, and legs. I kissed her on the forehead; it was ablaze. Her breathing was heavy and intermittent.
I opened my flask and watered her dry cracked lips. I also soaked a towel with the creek water and put it onto her forehead. The remaining water I poured into the flowerpot with a wilted violet on the windowsill. Then I sat down in the chair by the bed, where I, against my will, fell asleep.
 
 CHAPTER 48
 
Thanks to God
 
I woke to sobbing and managed to unglue my swollen eyelids. Alla, with her elbows on the windowsill, was standing by the violet, crying, and shaking.
“Why, my sweetheart, what happened? Why are you out of bed? What are you looking at? What scared you out there?” I took her into my arms, pressed her against my heart, and kissed her on the forehead, “Glory to God!” exclaimed I joyously.
“Would you like to know something, my darling? Your frightening temperature has gone. It has gone… You are not sweating anymore. And the tormenting cough has gone. And your breath is clean as it always was. Of course, you are still extremely weak, yet you look healthy. Oh God, thank you, for saving our daughter!
“Listen, my tender love, stop weeping. There is no reason for tears anymore. We have to wake Mama and Aunt Minnie and we will celebrate. Meanwhile, could you please explain to me what has happened? Was it a shadow of the horse in the yard that scared you?”
“No, Papa, no. I am not scared, and I did not look out the window at all. I was listening to Miss Singing Star, the Violet. And now I feel so much sorrow for the Fairy of Dew and Prince, the Flower, that I cannot help but crying,” sadly answered my daughter in a barely audible voice.
   

CHAPTER 49
 
Unexpected Continuation
 
In an instant, all the last night’s events flashed through my memory.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, utterly scared. “What about a fairy? And how would you know about her?”
“She told me,” my daughter said, and pointed at the violet on the windowsill. “While you were sleeping, she told me the whole story about what happened after you left the Glade of Fairy Tales.”
Puzzled, I looked at the flower. Since the last time I saw it, the violet now was blossoming, and its petals, sad and beautiful, were wet with little dewdrops, quivering like tears.
    
CHAPTER 50
 
A Speaking Flower
 
As well as I could, I calmed my daughter down and had her lie down in the bed again, where she started an incoherent narration.
She spoke in a hurry, missing words and cutting sentences. I could comprehend nothing. Finally, exhausted, she fell asleep, but this time it was a sound and deep sleep of a healthy child.
I returned into my chair, and Miss Singing Star the Violet, retold to me the story. Now you listen to it too, my little friend.