Being of Light

     Puck awakened from deep warm slumber in the cosy little burrow in the ground it picked for its hibernation. It yawned, a sound that mere mortal ears can only perceive as windchimes and laughter of children from a land long gone in time. Dragging, no, rolling itself lazily out of the dwelling, Puck unfurled its 7 wings of ether, each one the hues of a rainbow with a shine that embarrasses the sun. A passing army of ants dropped their bounty in awe of how a being the size of a plump young kid could come out a burrow barely large enough to fit a common rat. They’ve seen ethereal beings before, but none of them looked like Puck.

     “Boo!”, uttered Puck, still not entirely awake but hungry for mischief. The startled ants ran away in random direction as the fae from England chuckled heartily from a prank well done. After stretching its limb and readjusting its antennae, Puck began its peculiar flight around the vicinity to readjust itself from the long sleep. You see, fae folks like Puck sleeps a lot. A ton might be the best descriptor, it thought to itself, knowing full well time is not measured by weight. Sister Lily taught it that and Puck laughed at its own jokes once more, being totally itself; an ancient, immature fae.

     “Right, Puck should see Sister Lily”, it muttered in its windchime-like voice. After all, Sister Lily brought Puck here. She calls this island North Borneo. It’s not too shabby, but it can be a tad hot and humid, unlike the glades back home in Yorkshire. Puck had to follow Sister Lily here, it was still bound to their little pact when Lily as a child saved Puck from a Night Hound. Powerful as it maybe, Puck is still a fae and if a fae has any weakness, it’s Night Hounds and pacts sealed with a young child.

     “I had to go there”, Lily had said, “Sister Rose is frail and old, and she needs help to teach the children of Borneo about the Lord”. It’s always the Lord with Lily. The Lord and a fellow called Francis. She told Puck that the Lord is a man in the skies and Frankie is a patron for animals, though Puck never met both. It never bothered Puck however. Talking about them made Sister Lily happy and if she’s happy, then Puck is happy.

     It was ten years after they got here before it started feeling sleepy and by that time, Sister Lily’s coven -wait, that sounds wrong, oh right- her convent had grown from a humble group of nuns to an established teaching community. The islanders called them the White Sisters. Sister Lily once told Puck about all the amusing things they teach the human younglings but Puck was busy chasing a butterfly at that time. Probably ate it too.

     In present time, Puck saw a familiar swishing black tail above the grass in the convent garden. A colourful flower by the side took Puck’s attention- a lily, what a coincidence! The split second was all it took for the owner of the black tail to pounce on Puck and “Crash!”, came a face that Puck will never forget.

     “Mr. Paws! Nice to meet you, mate!”, Puck grinned ear-to-ear. The feline responded by rubbing its face all over Puck. Mr. Paws had been one of the founding members of the convent when he was adopted as the mascot and Puck felt a giant relief washing over it from seeing a familiar face. The cat seems genuinely surprised and happy to meet Puck too and it bounded forward towards the mission school grounds, eager to show an old friend around.

     A lot have changed at the school. Sure, the crosses still hang on walls, the place is still full of kids, but there were curious new things everywhere Puck looked. The kids wear identical clothes now, and some of them wear the curious piece of cloth on their head like the nuns did. Puck never saw nuns that young before. Another thing it noticed is just how big and tall the school became. It had rooms on rooms! Puck also saw a lot of new Sisters teaching the children but it grew curious when Mr. Paws took him to see a classroom where a man was teaching. A convent with a male in it, how odd? It wondered if Sister Rose approved that. But the further they walk around the school, the more anxious Puck became, not seeing even a hint of Sister Lily around.

     “Mr. Paws”, said the fae, rather meekly, “can you take me to Sister Lily?”. The furball in front of Puck stopped dead in its track, turning back slowly to face the creature with an unreadable expression on its face. Then, with slow and heavy, steps it led Puck to the library and pointed to an ancient book on the shelves.

     The book told of the story of the convent, written in the neat handwriting of Puck’s dearest Lily. It told of what transpired since the day their ship landed at the foreign island. Lily had written nearly everything in her life; she wrote about the Lord, Frankie, Sister Rose and in really fine prints, she wrote about Puck. She wrote every day about Puck since it took its nap, unsure when the jolly creature will accompany her again. Tears began floating away from the fae’s eyes. Its friend, its dear Lily had never forgotten it.

     The last entry was on Easter of 1943. It would’ve been exactly 10 years since Puck started hibernating. Lily, sweet child Lily, would’ve been only 38 summers-old. It was for Puck, a letter soaked with tears.

     “What year is it, Mr Paws?” the fae asked in golden tears. The cat with one life left patted Puck’s back with its paw and then pointed at a calendar on the library wall with his snout. “It’s 2020, and you’re too late.”, he finally spoke. Above the calendar, a picture of Lily smiled, a consolation, for a fae with a broken heart.