It had finally warmed up. Winter's tail had hung on with a tenacious grip all through April, and only finally surrendered to spring two weeks into May. Under normal circumstances, the odd weather would have gotten quite a bit of play in the news. It was barely a blip on the radar with a pandemic and a worldwide lock-down taking up every second.
Stephanie had been awake for about a half hour, and much like winter, had only surrendered to the day when she couldn't force herself back to sleep. She peeled back the covers from her nude body, slipped out of bed, and resigned herself to another day of shelter in place.
When she opened her drawer, she sighed as she looked down at the single pair of comfortable, well-fitting, pink panties that remained amidst all the others. She had exactly eight remaining, and a week into lock-down, one had developed a slight tear just below the waistband. It didn't diminish their comfort, but every time she touched it, the thought of it irritated her. That tiny rip felt like a betrayal by one of the few comforts she had in her isolation.
She momentarily considered opting for an only slightly less comfortable pair, but shook her head and pulled the folded cotton square out of the drawer. The time would come when that rip would open enough to warrant discarding them, but it wasn't today.
When she unfolded them, her brow furrowed. There was no rip. She must have somehow worn the ripped pair earlier in the week without noticing. As impossible as that seemed, it was the only reasonable explanation. Buoyed by the small gift, she slipped them on, brushed her teeth, golden blonde hair, and then finished dressing for the day.
After putting a load of laundry in the washer, she picked up her tablet and headed for the back door. Ever since her job had been deemed nonessential, she was a full time self-published fantasy/romance author. The money she made was negligible, but at least it was something to supplement her state unemployment once the federal stimulus expired. She didn't anticipate going back to work any time soon.
She knew she was fortunate as she opened the back door to a beautiful, warm, spring morning. Her uncle owned the house where she lived, so she didn't have to worry about an eviction for unpaid rent. She was reasonably secure, where so many weren't. It didn't stop the nagging feeling that writing felt like a job now, rather than a welcome diversion. The bright sunlight and musical tinkling of her fairy-themed wind chime weren't enough to lessen that feeling of drudgery.
Nevertheless, she sat down, adjusted the chair so there was no glare on her screen, and started to write.
Fifteen minutes and dozens of deleted lines later, she sat the tablet in her lap face down and dropped her head into her hand. She simply couldn't conjure up the once familiar, magical feeling within herself. Without that, her words on the page felt empty. She didn't even bother thinking about opening one of her romance manuscripts, because that magic was even more dead within her.
One too many horrible dates and failed relationships had put her off from even trying. Despite that, she'd taken a few tentative steps down the road anyway with her new coworker Macy. Macy was openly bisexual, and Stephanie had felt an almost instant kinship — and attraction — to the pretty brunette. Stephanie had harbored feelings of same sex attraction for as long as she understood what attraction was, but she'd never acted upon it.
They had started trading mildly flirtatious looks and conversation just before the pandemic hit, and the restaurant closed down. It felt like the universe once again teasing her, and then snatching away any chance of romance. The two still sent texts to each other once in a while, but without the immediate, daily interaction, Stephanie hesitated. Over the weeks of isolation, she began to wonder if she'd misinterpreted the signs from Macy she had thought were attraction, and couldn't bring herself to take a risk.
Stephanie stood, sat her tablet down in the chair, and then walked out into the back yard. She only kept a small section of it mowed, letting nature and the small woodlet behind the house take over everywhere else. The grass was flush with moisture, and the loam soft beneath her bare feet. Though there was plenty of natural inspiration along the way, she had a specific destination in mind.
In the shade of a large pecan tree, several mushrooms had sprouted the previous week. She assumed they were morels from the deeply ridged caps, but they were an unusual pink color. They formed a circle about a foot and a half across, and had immediately put Stephanie in mind of a fairy circle. Discovering them had briefly reawakened the magic within her, allowing her to start the story she'd just been struggling with on her tablet. She had even recited an old poem she'd read that was supposed to open the pathway to the fairy world. The childlike joy that had washed over her that day was what she was hoping to recapture.
It wasn't working.
The long, seemingly unending days that she could barely keep track of were crushing her spirit. She stared down at the ring that she'd found so full of magic the week before and sighed. Unable to find her muse, she knew that she was only going to grow even more stir-crazy as the days of quarantine dragged on and on.
Stephanie sneezed and stepped back when something tickled her nose. She noticed an odd sparkling in the air, as though someone was raining down glitter upon her. When she looked up into the tree, she couldn't believe her eyes. Someone
was
sprinkling her with glitter. That someone was a willowy, female figure only six inches tall.
A giggle sounded from near the ground, and Stephanie looked down to see there were two more of the tiny creatures there. Both of the miniature women waved up to her. A moment later, the third stepped out of a root as though it were nothing more than a bank of fog, and joined the pair there. They were all dressed in brown dresses of an archaic style, and wearing curly-toed shoes of the same hue. Each had curly, brunette hair done up in whimsical styles.
"Hello. I'm Prinna," the one in the middle said. The voice was as much in Stephanie's head as it was audible.
"I'm Fern," said another.
"I'm Misha," said the one who had been raining glitter.
"Hi, I'm Stephanie," she said as she knelt down to see them better. She knew she should have been on the verge of panic from the supernatural encounter and thought,
Why am I not freaking out right now?
"The fairy dust," Prinna answered the unspoken question. "We borrowed some so you could see us. It also takes away fear."
Stephanie looked over the three miniature women, and felt a stirring within her. The three were beautiful, with curves that were enhanced as much as they were hidden by the clothing they wore. The dresses had to be made of something like silk to cling to the creatures the way they did.
The longer she looked at them, the less their tiny size seemed to matter. She could see smaller details, almost as though they were full-sized or she had telescopic vision. Much like their voices, this seemed to be in her head, rather than an enhancement of her normal senses. Prinna was particularly attractive, because her pixie-like features very much reminded Stephanie of Macy.
"What are you?" she asked, and then immediately blushed. Apparently removing fear also removed fear of asking a rude question.
