She stood on the writing blotter in the center of my desktop.
She stretched herself up as tall as she could, three whole inches.
Looking me in the eyes she said, with a steely glare,
“So, what is this going to be? A poem or a fairytale?”
“It’s your story, Sweetie, tell it as you wish it to be.”
“I despise fairytales with their moral to the story and happy endings.
I am an elf and not a fairy. Fairies are stupid airheads with wings.
My name is Sweetie, the Candycane Elf, and this bow shoots magical sugar arrows.”
“And what does a magical sugar arrow actually do?” I carefully asked.
“It gives a Slow One diabetes,” she barked. “I hate humans.”
“So, it’s a weapon that can kill a man?” I asked even more carefully.
“Well, in small doses, it only makes the sour ones sweeter.”
She nocked a sparkly white arrow and looked at me as if accusing.
“Why exactly do you hate humans, the Ones you call Slow?”
“I used to target bickering children. I used to love my power.
I could reunite friends and repair romances, Make frowns turn to smiles.
But people have been getting harder to sweeten and renew.
They put poisons in the garden and poisons in the fields.
The air is getting toxic, and the conversations sour to spoiled.
They are forever angry and take it out on everything.
They can’t even see me when I’m glammered,
Yet they try to slay me like a pest or ugly bug.
I used to like the humans, especially the younger ones.
I loved them and they loved me, even though I wasn’t even there.
But you can only be punished by nonbelievers for so long
Before love becomes dark hatred and vengeance in my heart.”
I nodded with a sadness born of recognizing the truth,
And then I wrote down every bitter word, even some she didn’t say.
Catch a Falling Star 