Molly-Anne ran through the fescue field with net in hand. Each swoop brought her closer to catching her prey. Laughing and giggling the six year old had to rest. Who knew butterflies were so fast? The field was full of little “winged fairies”, and with a bright clear day, she couldn’t resist such an adventure.
Her breathing slowed and she was ready again. Scanning the field through her brow, she lounged at her next target. Fixated on the fluttering fiend, she tried everything to catch it. The light blue opponent was bent on outwitting her. Tired and exhausted, she pushed beyond the limits of her legs. She was not going to give up. Exhaustion overcame her legs until there was no more push left. Slowing to a walk she kept her forward progression. The butterfly landed. This was her chance. Lowering her body, Molly-Anne crept within striking distance. Poised, she slowly raised her net outward to her side. Quickly, she performed a horizontal swoop, and watched as the net engulfed her target.
Gently she slowly opened the net and with care she cupped the butterfly out of the net.
“I got you, my little fairy. Now you owe me a wish.” She whispered, recalling the fairy-stories her mother told her. And what does a six year old little girl with the power to wish for anything want?
Placing her lips close to her thumbs, she made her wish in voice so soft only the butterfly could hear. “My wish is for love.”
Releasing the butterfly, she watched as it carried her wish.
In a world filled with rampant emotions, and prodigal adults willing to kill over material meaningless values, there stood one girl, one fairy, and one wish.