Fairy Ointment

Fairy Ointment

Once upon a time, Mrs. Goody lived in a small English town. She knew all sorts of home remedies for colds, could soothe a baby who would not sleep, and always came to help when a neighbor fell ill.

One night, it was so quiet outside that even the ivy rustling on the roof could be heard. Then someone knocked at the door.

Knock-knock-knock.

Mrs. Goody lit a candle and went downstairs.

A strange little man stood on the doorstep in a dark cloak. He squinted slightly, as though he were always looking into a ray of sunlight.

“Mrs. Goody, please come with me,” he said. “My wife needs help. She is very tired, and the baby won’t sleep.”

It was late, but Mrs. Goody rarely turned away anyone who asked for help.

“All right,” she said. “Just let me put on my shawl.”

A great black horse waited at the gate. His eyes glowed in the darkness like two embers.

“Don’t be afraid,” said the little man. “He knows the way better than either of us.”

And so he did. The horse sped along the night paths so lightly that his hooves scarcely seemed to touch the ground. They passed the forest and the hills, crossed an old stone bridge, and at last stopped beside a small house.

It was warm inside. The children were playing by the fire, and a tired young woman lay in bed with a baby in her arms.

“Thank you for coming,” she whispered. “Here’s the baby. There’s just one more thing.”

She handed Mrs. Goody a little silvery box.

“When he wakes up, put a drop of this ointment on his eyelids. That’s all.”

Mrs. Goody nodded.

Soon the baby opened his eyes. Mrs. Goody gently dabbed the ointment onto his eyelids. He smiled and reached a little hand toward her necklace.

Then Mrs. Goody felt that familiar tug of curiosity.

“What’s so special about that ointment?” she thought.

She looked around. No one seemed to be looking.

She picked up a trace of ointment on her fingertip and lightly brushed it over her own right eyelid.

The world changed in an instant.

The walls of the humble house seemed to expand. Carved cupboards appeared in place of plain shelves, tiny stars shone on the ceiling, and the hearth fire burned blue and gold at once.

The young woman in bed no longer looked ordinary. Her hair shimmered like silver mist, and her dress glowed with a soft moonlit gleam.

The children had changed too. Pointed ears peeked through some of their hair, while others had delicate, transparent wings trembling at their backs. The smallest children were releasing fireflies into the room, catching them, and letting them go again.

“They’re fairies!” Mrs. Goody realized.

She longed to look more closely, but decided not to reveal that she could see more than she had been allowed to.

When the baby fell asleep, she helped his mother settle him comfortably. Then the strange little man thanked Mrs. Goody, took her home on the black horse, and paid her generously for her help that night.

“You have done a good deed for us,” he said in farewell. “We will not forget it.”

The next day was market day.

Mrs. Goody went to buy flour, apples, and a skein of wool. The square was so crowded that she could barely make her way between the stalls.

Suddenly she spotted the familiar little man.

He walked between the stalls, completely unnoticed by the others. Now he would take an apple, now he would sniff a bunch of mint, now he would pick up a fallen pear. The sellers looked right through him and did not notice anything.

Mrs. Goody was surprised.

“Good afternoon!” she called cheerfully. “How is your wife? Did the baby sleep well after I came to help?”

The little man froze.

“You… can see me?”

“Of course I do,” Mrs. Goody replied.

“You really can?”

“How can I not see you? You are right in front of me.”

He looked intently into her face.

“With which eye?”

Mrs. Goody realized she had said too much.

“My right eye,” she answered more quietly.

The little man sighed.

“So you didn’t just use the ointment for the baby.”

Mrs. Goody blushed.

“I only wanted to find out what it did. I didn’t mean to harm anyone.”

“I believe you,” he said. “But some doors into the magical world open only when you’re invited. Otherwise, trust is lost.”

He touched the air beside her right eye with one finger.

The world flashed with silver light for a moment.

And then the little man was gone.

He did not dissolve into smoke or turn into a bird. In an instant, she simply could not see him anymore.

Mrs. Goody looked around. The fair was the same as always: apples, baskets, cheese, ribbons, noisy shoppers.

She rubbed her eyes.

“Well, goodness,” she whispered.

From then on, Mrs. Goody never saw any more fairies unless they wanted to show themselves.

But sometimes at night, when a faint sound like the tinkling of a tiny bell came from outside her window, she would smile.

She knew the magical world was still there. We do not have to be shown everything that exists.

When someone entrusts you with a little secret, sometimes the greatest wonder is knowing when not to peek where you haven’t been invited.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨