Harold and Sallie came about from a writing prompt. Said prompt was literally ‘A woodsman frees a sprite from a tree’. I banged out a couple of hundred words one day and by the next, these two characters had set up housekeeping in my brain. They had a story to tell and I was the one to tell it. This is the first of many of the story they want to tell.
The tree was in the way.
Intending to expand his vegetable garden, Harold spent early spring clearing a few random trees near the cabin that were obstructing the area. The idea occurred to Harold that by expanding the garden, he could have access to a wider variety of food. Before replanting the garden, he planned to cut down this last tree.
It meant he wouldn’t have to go into the village as often. He kept chickens for eggs and purchased a pig a few years ago. Having accomplished his goal of self-sufficiency, he rarely went into the village anymore. Harold visited his parents and made a few trips each year for supplies. He sometimes sold the vegetables he canned at the village market. After twenty years in the cabin, Harold found contentment in solitude and his hermit-like reputation.
The cabin and clearing were close to the village road, just minutes away on a bicycle. The dense forest encircled the clearing, overlooked by those unaware of its existence. There was a small stream running along the south end of the property. Harold caught fish in the woods, selling them at the market with canned vegetables. Behind the cabin, Harold had constructed a chicken coop and pigsty. There was a tool shed as well, built by the previous owner.
Harold was about forty years old, tall, bulky, with wavy brown hair that reached to his shoulders. In winter he would grow a mustache and beard for warmth.
The elm tree was small, twenty years old. He hadn’t been the one to plant it but remembered it was a sapling when he moved into the cabin. Harold thought it would take a couple of hours to chop down and uproot. It would save him some time from going into the woods for firewood later. Harold had learned the hard way after a few rough winters; it was better to have too much firewood than too little.
He was halfway through chopping when a tiny, loud voice caught his attention. “Hey! Stop that! You almost hit me. Hurry! "I've been trapped here for years," the tiny, loud voice exclaimed.
Harold spun around, searching for the source of the voice. “Chop higher,” the voice said. “I can climb out if you chop a few inches up.” Not knowing what else to do, Harold started chopping the tree trunk a few inches higher. As he chopped, the voice kept up encouragement. “That’s it, almost there! I can see some light!”
Harold reached a point where he could push the tree trunk over. Looking at the stump, he noticed a small hole in the middle. A small female fairy climbed out, blinked, and settled on the trunk's edge. She straightened out her dress and stretched out her wings. “Oh boy, this feels wonderful!” She was about average height for a fairy, four inches. She wore a green hued dress made from leaves and various bits of other material. The fairy had dirty blonde hair that was pulled back in a disheveled ponytail. Her wings were in colors of iridescent shades of purples and blues. Harold noticed her eyes matched the color of her wings. Harold had only the faintest of ideas that fairies had long lifespans. He was guessing this fairy was in her early twenties.
The fairy gave Harold a glare and a dramatic sigh. “You’re supposed to yell ‘TIMBER’ when a tree falls. Some woodsmen you are.”
“There’s no one else around. Why would I bother? And how do you know I’m a woodsman?”
“I’ve been stuck in this stupid tree for a few years. You pick up on things, you hear stuff. I know you live alone. I’ve been waiting for the day you would chop this tree down. So, thank you very much.”
Harold had plenty of questions, but not knowing how to ask or what else he should do regarding this creature, he started chopping up the bits and pieces of the tree trunk. The fairy sat on the edge of the tree stump, stretching her wings as she watched Harold chopping, giving a running commentary on his progress.
“You haven’t asked me what my name is. It’s Sallie, with an ‘ie’, not a ‘y’.You’re about to step on a hornet’s nest. Why do you live alone in the forest? No, all I think I can do is fly.” That comment caused a raised eyebrow from Harold. “I said, I think. Everyone thinks fairies have all these grand magical powers. I have yet to discover what mine are.” The fairy paused for a bit to catch her breath. “Don’t you want to know what sort of fairy I am?”
“You talk a lot.” Harold was ready for lunch. He had fixed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and a pitcher of ginger ale for lunch. “I’m stopping for a while to eat. Is there something I can get for you? I’m having peanut butter and jelly. Do fairies eat a special food?”
“Ew! Do you have any bananas? They go so much better with peanut butter. And just a few bites, please.” Harold had to laugh over the fact that the fairy liked people's food. He nodded. “I think I have a banana. I’ll be right back.”
Lunch in hand, including a banana, Harold sat down on the stump next to Sallie. He carefully tore off a small bite of his sandwich and a slice of banana. He put them out on a napkin for the fairy. “How did you get stuck in this tree? And how were you able to hear what was going on? Did you piss off a witch or something?”
“Whoa, there! One question at a time, mister! I don’t know why I could hear what was going on around me and no, I didn’t piss off anyone. It was an accident.” Sallie wiped the corner of her mouth. That got another raised eyebrow from Harold.
“No, really! I was out here a few years ago, exploring with friends. We were trying out various spells to see what magic we could do. Apparently, my sister could do magic. They tried to get me out but couldn’t and promised to return. That was almost three years ago.” Harold heard the bitterness in her voice.
“Seems you need better friends. That was rude of them to leave you here.” They ate in silence for a bit. Harold found a leaf that he wrapped into a small cylinder and poured some of his home-made ginger ale for Sallie.
“Oh, wow, THAT is the good stuff! You made this?” She drank all the ginger ale from the makeshift cup. “Can I have some more, please?”
“Yes, I did. I’m Harold. Spelled just as you think it is.” As they finished their lunch, Harold explained why he was cutting down the tree. “I wanted to cut down this tree to clear out the yard. I'm planting a new garden for the year, and I have stored seeds in the cellar. I’ve been wanting to enlarge the garden for a while. I’d like to add a better selection of vegetables, herbs and maybe try fruit this year.”
Sallie perked up. “Can I help? You dig the holes, I can dart about, and drop the seeds in. What are you going to plant? Oh, this will be so much fun! And flowers! I know a lot about flowers! They make everything prettier and nicer!”
Harold thought for a minute. “What about your friends? Your family? Don’t you want to see them first and let them know you’re ok?”
Sallie was quiet for a bit. “No. They would have come back years ago if they were serious about getting me out of that stupid tree. I can see them whenever I want. Besides, we have a garden to plant!”
Sallie briefly discussed the plants, vegetables, and flowers to be planted, then flew around, pointing out the planting spots.
In silence, he listened to Sallie talk about flowers, plants and seeds, Harold had to wonder what he had gotten himself into. He had no clue how much his life was about to change.