The fairies by the sunbeam were sad. All day they had tried to coax it from the ruined cottage and the darkness.

'New granite has risen near Mourne; you must come prime the stonelights in his suit before the fleadh.' Rouvelas was a dandy.

'There are boats down on the river, with fresh-polished brasses to gleam golden with your kiss' coaxed Whisper, dream-maker.

But the sunbeam shrank. Energy spent, it clung, a shimmer against the ancient wall.

The fairies knew, of course. Mis-match in the way-of-things did sometimes happen. A curious sunbeam had chanced upon a reckless pool of moonlight and now this: the thing men called 'love'.

'Mind the Book of Cannot Be.' Rouvelas tried harshness. 'You will die.'

'We can help..........only you must come away' begged Whisper.

But the little ray had sought the darkness, knowing it as where the moonlight lived.

The fairies wept and sang the Song of Souls for the passing of a sunbeam.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A teardrop lingered on the earth and there, a glint of early moonlight fell, shattered, and a splinter, fine as laser, pierced the last, grey blush of dappling sun.

Gilded silver; silvered gold fountained...
Rouvelas gaped.

'Love' breathed Whisper, already in the high currents, away to Tara with the news.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When they returned to mark the place of melding lights as wishing-ground, they found it done already.

Three, pale, heart-shaped leaves upon a single stem; sun and moon and magic.

'Can it live?' Rouvelas wondered.
Whisper sighed, 'Love'.

Want to comment on this Short Stories? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Short Stories and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...