|Pretend this is an Irish castle. It's not.|
(This is the beginning of a much longer short story. I'm posting a few paragraphs in honor of St. Patrick's Day.)
The Beauties of Mackenzie
They say there are faeries in the hills of Mackenzie. I know it is true. If you look closely in the hour of twilight, you can just see their sparkling light dancing in the flowers ‘neath the trees. Some foolish souls have tried to capture these wee sprites, but ‘tis a fool’s lot to try. You’d best let them be to work their magic like they did on the folk of Mackenzie.
It is true that Mackenzie has some of the fairest girls in all of Ireland. More than our fair share, some would say. Some, like Siobhan, were born as pretty as a lilac bouquet. Girls like Siobhan cuddle their baby dolls to them and help their mothers tend the babies. They laugh with school chums and wrap presents with pretty bows that curl to perfection.
Girls like Siobhan need only the tiniest sprinkling of faerie dust to keep their sweet demeanors. It’s the other ones, the girls who cast frowns and pinch their brothers-- these are the girls that the faeries work their magic upon. These are the girls who prove there are faeries.