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The fairy’s translucent wings sparkled in the sunlight as she relaxed in the miniature garden with her friends. It was a typical fairy garden afternoon filled with tea parties, naps, and long conversations in the shade of a miniature tree. With its bright, colorful flowers, creeping vines, and bubbling brook, the setting was idyllic. Almost too perfect, at least in the mind of a mischievous pixie who was lurking behind a willow tree. The magical miniature garden resident had decided to have some fun with his fairy friends. Eyes squeezed shut, he said a few magic words and blew a fistful of fairy dust over the group.
“Zap!” Everything in the fairy garden went dark. Then, as though waking into a strange dream, the fairies blinked their eyes and looked around. They were no longer basking in the glorious afternoon sunlight of the fairyhood. Instead, they were standing in the middle of a dusty, well-worn path. Glancing around, they spotted some rough-hewn buildings, styled like log cabins. Log benches and wooden barrels were situated near the path. A rifle was leaned up against the wall of a saloon, next to a pair of cowboy boots. Why, they had been transported all the way back to the Wild West! The smell of gun smoke drifted through the air while the tinkling of piano keys played in the background. The fairies shook their heads. This was not the garden they were used to! Gathering together in fear, the group of fairies squeezed their eyes shut and said their own magic words, willing themselves back to the fairy garden. “Pop!” The darkness fell down again.
Though the fairies opened their eyes in excitement, hoping to see their garden swing and field of flowers, they found they had not made it home quite yet. This time, instead of a western town, their fairy toes were planted in soft sand. The air was light, breezy, and salty. The smell of grilled burgers drifted over from a picnic table. Everywhere they looked, there was color—from green flipflops tossed aside into the sand to a brightly-colored VW bus parked near a volleyball net. Rock ‘n roll played on the radio. It was a groovy scene! But it was not the fairy garden. The group of friends closed their eyes and said the magic words. “Bam!”
The music blaring from the VW radio suddenly stopped. When they blinked their eyes open, the fairies found themselves in utter silence, save for the squeaking of an old rocking chair. Their fairy wings bumped up against the old, dusty walls of a farmhouse porch. Across the way, a barn stood next to a windmill that turned slowly in the wind. Somewhere in the distance, a bell rang, calling the farm residents to supper. This was closer to the garden, but not quite right. Frustrated, the fairies shook their heads and squeezed their eyes shut. “Zip!”
They heard the sounds of the fairy garden before they saw anything. The flutter of wings, giggles of garden friends, and magical melodies of singing trolls hit their ears all at once. They were finally home! The sweet smell of flowers greeted the fairy bunch as they gazed around their miniature garden home. They knocked on every door, embracing residents of the miniature garden, and flew around delightedly, happy to be back in their warm and welcoming home. Crouched under some miniature vines, that old pixie cackled. He had played a fun and harmless trick on his fairy friends. Magical pranks were his favorite, but he was glad the fairies were back in the miniature garden…for now!
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