Since they had no water for their dough, the Fey Folk drew blood from the toe of a servant girl and used it to bake their cakes. The same book tells of another family who neglected to leave water out for the faeries when they arrived to do baking. Below, in their living quarters, they could hear the faeries moving about, but never saw them. From nowhere, a white dog would appear in the room, a sign the family was about to be visited by the Fey Folk.īustling about, the humans ensured a fire burned brightly in the hearth, put out fresh water for their guests, then hurried to bed. According to the tale, the family would gather on winter nights in the main room, the mother and daughters working at their spinning wheels. It speaks of a family who were visited by a Faerie Dog. Perhaps the ancient faerie races were too lofty to soil themselves by interacting with humans, but they weren’t above using human tools for their purpose.Īs an example, there is a brief account I found in The Vanishing People, Fairy Lore and Legends, a book by Katherine Briggs. Kind of like faeries do.īut did you know there are also tales of a Faerie Dog? This ghostly animal appears mostly as a herald to announce the imminent presence of the Fey. It’s one of those books you want to see “out there” just because it resonates with you. Given how odd the story is, I’m sure I’ll have to indie pub it, but that’s okay. One of these days…one of these days I will finish it. ![]() Who knows….maybe the Fey have placed a glamour on it and that’s why it’s still wiggling around in the back of my mind. The last one is what draws me in, refusing to let me abandon it. ![]() It’s part urban fantasy, part horror, and part magical realism. Yes, faeries factor prominently into the plot. ![]() I should abandon the wretched thing, but I can’t seem to walk away from the Fey Folk. The story has been through multiple title changes (it’s presently without one), length modifications, character changes, plot thread rewrites, and just about everything in between. Every year I think “this is the year I’m going to pull it out and finish it.” And every year it never happens. Tucked away in a drawer, I have of those Frankenstory WIPs that has been hanging around for decades. Whenever spring and summer roll around, I think of mushroom rings, twilight evenings perfumed by honeysuckle, and faeries.
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