Read The Frivolity Fairies - A Christmas Short Story Page 8
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Here it is, years later, and I’m writing this story so my sister might remember where she came from—though I doubt she’ll believe me. She woke up Christmas morning with no memories of what happened, a dull ache in her heart, and two faint scars between her shoulder blades that’ve never faded.
Hyacant was true to her word, and Remi had her own bedroom, memories of Mom and Dad, and a personality that was always witty and charming. Everyone who met my sister loved her; and, while she sometimes had violent dreams she woke up screaming from, she maintained the grace of nobility.
I’m not sure she ever noticed there were no photos of her before age thirteen.
Being the naturally curious person I am, I looked through family records for mention of Shirley Boh, Beau, and Beaux in my town. Sure enough, Shirley Beaux grew up, graduated high school, got married, had children, and died. Oddly, she was also the highly acclaimed author of fairy tale books for young children. Most notably, The Frivolity Fairies.
I bought them all, and they’re a pretty good recollection of everything that magical world contains.
My plan is to give Remi this story for Christmas tomorrow—the sixtieth anniversary of her becoming my sister. Though, she remembers it as the seventy-third. Perhaps it’ll spark the magic inside her back to life.