Dear Reader,

Today, I continue to publish excerpts from

A FAIRY'S DIARY

Saturday’s magic was tested by gravity and the treacherous gravel of the driveway. I was folding laundry—a meditative practice where I weave patience into every cotton shirt—when a sharp, unmistakable shriek pierced the air. I dropped the towels, my fairy senses instantly on high alert, and flew out the front door faster than any winged creature ever could.

My eldest was sitting on the ground, clutching a scraped knee, tears streaming down his dusty cheeks. His bicycle lay abandoned nearby, a silent witness to the sudden betrayal of balance. Kneeling beside him in the driveway, I assessed the damage. The scrape was minor, but the shock to his pride was deep. This required a dual-layered healing enchantment.

First, the physical remedy. I carried him to the bathroom sink, murmuring soothing incantations. Warm water and the gentle touch of a washcloth washed away the dirt. Then came the magical green antiseptic—a potion passed down through generations of mother fairies. I warned him it would sting, the dragon’s breath fighting the germs, and blew a cool stream of air over the wound to chase the fire away. A bright blue bandage with stars sealed the spell.

But the second layer of magic was the most crucial. I pulled him onto my lap in the rocking chair, his small frame trembling against mine. "Even the bravest knights fall sometimes," I whispered, burying my face in his hair, breathing in the scent of sunshine and boyish sweat. "The real magic is getting back up." I rocked him slowly, transferring my calm into his racing heart until his breathing steadied. By dinnertime, the tears were a distant memory, and the starred bandage was proudly worn like a knight's badge of honor.

To be continued next week …

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