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  It Was a Bright and Sunny Day
by Lela Marie De La Garza


  It was a bright and sunny day. Sister Mary Margaret was taking inventory. She lifted her face to the light streaming from the window and smiled. Her duties inside the convent walls rarely let her enjoy the the sunshine she loved. 

  She turned her attention again to the well-stocked pantry. The shelves of fruits and vegetables were very impressive. Sister Elizabeth canned everything that could be canned. She was constantly bent over her pressure cooker, surrounded by glass jars. The sisters ate produce all year round, and Father Paul’s table was well supplied. Suddenly Sister Mary Margaret heard a high pitched noise. It sounded for all the world like “Help!” She was reminded of David Hedison in The Fly. Shaking her head at such foolishness, she started counting, carefully entering the numbers in her Tablet. But the noise came again, and she decided to investigate.

  Her eye fell on a jar of preserved strawberries. She picked it up and held it to the light. The berries gleamed like jewels—and among them something tiny struggled, probably a wasp. Sister Mary Margaret took out her cell phone and called Sister Elizabeth. “Meet me in the pantry at once.” Sister Elizabeth obeyed, of course, as all the sisters did. Mother Superior was only a figure head—we knew who ran the convent.

  Sister Mary Margaret showed Sister Elizabeth the jar. “When you put these strawberries up, what did you put up with them?”

Sister Elizabeth gasped in horror. “My—the kitchen is always sterile—my implements—the fruit is washed three times over—this—“

  “Never mind. I believe you. But we had better get this creature out of here.” Sister Mary Margaret took the jar to the sink and opened it. Sister Elizabeth began fishing around in the fruit. “Be careful; it might sting…” 

  But Sister Elizabeth hooked something out and held it triumphantly aloft. “A fairy!” Her face shone with childlike wonder.

  “Fairies do not exist!” snapped Sister Mary Margaret. But Sister Elizabeth was gently washing the tiny creature, taking care not to crush the delicate wings.

  Sisters Michel Antony and Teresa now entered the pantry. They had sensed something going on, as we always sense things in the convent. Sister Mary Margaret blocked the view. She hoped to keep this matter as private as possible. It was, however, not possible, since Sisters Seraphina and Anne had followed the others. Reluctantly, Sister Mary Margaret stepped aside.

  We were all charmed with the exquisite little figure—except for Sister Mary Margaret of course. She balanced it gingerly on her own finger and asked sternly “Who are you? What are you?”

  A laugh like the trace of minuscule silver bells answered her. “My name is Morgana. And I am indeed a fairy.”

  Sister Mary Margaret frowned. “If there were fairies—which is impossible—they would not be from God. And whatever is not from God is from Satan.”

  Deeply offended, Morgana rose to her entire two-inch height. “Fairies have been here since the world began. God created us, along with every other beautiful thing. In the beginning we were your size. But human beings came, with their violence and their cruelty. We had to diminish and hide in the smallest nooks and crannies for safety’s sake. Even so, we were killed by the thousands. Only a few hundred of us now remain.

  Sister Mary Margaret still could scarcely believe the evidence of her eyes and ears. “What do the few of you left do in the world then?”

  “We ride on raindrops and on drifting leaves. We warn the woodland creatures when danger approaches. Many lost children have our lights lead safely home. We still possess some magic, though our power is not nearly as great as of old.” The tiny silver bells took on a mournful trill. “O the music…the balls…when we danced all night on Fiddlers’ Green…”

  “But what brought you to this place?”

  “A puff of breeze blew me into your beautiful garden. It seemed a cool and pleasant place to rest. Then I saw a shimmering window of colour and flew up to it.”

  Sister Elizabeth’s preserves, Sister Mary Margaret thought.

  “There was a crystal vase filled with sparkling rubies.”

  Sister Elizabeth’s strawberries.

  “I came ever closer. So lovely was the sight that I couldn’t help wishing myself inside. Suddenly something sticky smothered my thoughts, and I could not wish myself out again. Then you came and rescued me, and I am forever grateful.

  “But how could you breathe at all?” asked Sister Elizabeth. “And how was I able to hear your tiny voice?” asked Sister Mary Margaret.
 
  “There was an air bubble. Fairies need little space to breathe. And you heard me with your mind, not your ears.”

  At this point, Sister Mary Margaret thought it wise to discontinue the discussion. “I do not pretend to understand,” she said, in a strangely gentle voice. “But I find nothing bad in you. Therefore, as you are a free spirit, I think we shall set you free.” She began moving toward the window. We followed her as one.
   
  “May I not grant some wishes before I go? I have that much magic left…”

  All the sisters started to speak. Sister Mary Margaret silenced us with a look. “God provides for us,” she answered. “We have no need of fairytales.”

 “I have no tail!” Morgana spoke in a hurt voice, the echo of a silvery harp string.
 
  Sister Mary Margaret closed her eyes and sighed. One corner of her mouth twitched, in what might have been a smile. “Indeed you do not. Now go. And with our blessings at your back.” She lifted her finger and the tiny fragment of loveliness leaped through the widow. 

  Sister Mary Margaret watched her ride an updraft, swirling into the wide, wonderful expanse of blue. “’God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform.’ I think we have just witnessed one.”

 
Lela Marie De La Garza has had work published in “Behind Closed Doors”, “Pound of Flash”, “ChickLit”, “Daily Romance”, “Creepy Gnome,” and “Mad March Hare.”. She was born in Denver, CO. in 1943 while her father was serving in WWII. She currently resides in San Antonio, TX. with three and a half cats, and a visiting raccoon.  Contact Lela.