The small box may have looked like a piece of trash, but inside it was so much more.
The aged, oaken walls hid a tiny, dancing fäerie that danced to various titles, all unknown to me or anyone of any knowledge that I had spoken with. It was as if my little fäerie friend was a creature of wisdoms unknown.
Her eerie tune would play me to sleep and wake me up, day after day and night after night. Her light, lilting tune would relax my nerves and put me in a happy place. Her powerful notes and strides would fuel my passionate emotions and give me strength. It was as if she could read my mind.
Twirling, the fäerie would dance. Her leg extended and arms raised as she stood on the tips of her toes. A green tint to her pale skin and elfish ears hinted at magic, but misty wings assured the light rumour she began.
The song would change and so would my mood. Something deep and dramatic for a bad day, and something light and happy for a good one. She was my family, my home. She was my escape.
Traveling with me, she witnessed fire firsthand. She saw death. She suffered damages and loss herself, a chipped wing to prove it. Yet still she carried onward, being the strong little fäerie that would not stop. She was mine.
I would be the fäerie. I would be strong.