Bonnie
cried and cried and claimed they were not doing anything wrong. She said it was a great honor. She said Amie would be well cared for and
would lead a pampered life in the fairy palace.
She said Amie would be special there.
That she would be happy.
Despite
all Bonnie’s arguments and pleading, she knows good and well how terribly wrong
this all is. Why else would Bonnie have
refused to tell us what they wanted? The
fairy’s been with me for over three months now.
She could have said something?
There’s no way Bonnie could think it’s alright to steal a baby from her
parents. No way!
Bonnie
was surprised by the reaction of Madison and me as she finished her story of
the fairies’ aborted baby snatching attempt.
The one that failed only because I happened on the scene at the last
moment and let the dog loose and spoiled their plans. I shudder to think if they had gotten away
with little Amie. They were so close.
How
many other little children have fairies stolen over the years and taken into
the realm of fairies? How could they
think kidnapping little children is acceptable behavior? Kidnapping children is nearly as bad as
murder. I’d like to take that fairy
prince and his warriors and his chemists and smash them all up a bit and throw
them back into the hole in the ground from where they came. There is no way I would ever let them take
Madison’s little sister.
So
the more I thought about it, the more I came to the sad but inescapable
conclusion that I could no longer have anything to do with fairies, including
Bonnie. Much as I love Bonnie, and as
much fun as she is to have around, the danger is too great. It sickens me. I cannot believe Bonnie was actually a party
to baby snatching. And of someone I
know, little Amie Renard! It sickens me
to think about it. I actually feel ill. I really have grown to love Bonnie.
“You
are going to have to leave,” I steeled my resolve and said to her firmly, when
we got home and out of the car and safely back into my bedroom.
“Leave
where Michael?” she asked, and there was a tremble in her voice.
I
went over to the window and cranked it open.
Grief made me feel all clammy, but I took the screen out. “I don’t care, just go.”
Bonnie
stood on the edge of the desk, looking up at me with those large imploring
eyes. “Michael, I don’t understand.”
I
raised my voice. “I can’t have you here
any longer!”
“Because,
because, you don’t want to help us bring the little human girl to the realm of
fairies.”
“Yes.”
“But,
but, when may I return?’
“Never!”
She
started to cry then. “Michael, I cannot
leave you. Please Michael, don’t make me
go.”
“I’m
sorry. You must leave. I have no choice.”
She fell down on her knees. “No Michael, I won’t, not unless you order me
too.”
I
pointed out the window. “Then I order
you to go.”
“Please
Michael, I will be good, I promise.”
I
shook my head. “No!”
She
shook herself and rose to her feet.
Reluctantly she took flight and flew erratically to the window seal. There she landed and turned and made one last
parting plea, “If you order me to leave, then I am bound by oath to obey your
command.”
I
was too upset to argue. “Go. I command it.
I never want to see another fairy again, especially you.”
She
gave one last heart-wrenching sob, and then she left. I watched her fly off into the night and disappear. I don’t think I’ll ever see her again. She’s gone.
This is probably the last blog I’ll be writing. She’s gone.
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