~ Good fairies leave only once ~

By talking, humans have for centuries created an illusion of life and duration. Since ancient times, words have helped a man to overcome loneliness and sadness, to forget about transience and to postpone his end. Seneca said that life was short, art long-lasting, an opportunity quick, an attempt dangerous and that a decision was difficult. The man, caught up in all this confusion, often wants to flee to another world, woven of stories, fairy tales and myths about old beautiful times, convinced that the real truth, which comes to man, is only that which is not written. Often powerless to confront the cruel reality, he begins to believe in miracles and to flee to a certain world in which he can see only what he wants to see. In this world, he is surrounded by untouched nature and miraculous, supernatural beings, for which some still believe that they sometimes pass through one of our paths, but rare are those who can see them. According to the tradition, the good fairies, bathed in light, come from the past to heal wounds and to melt the ice in the hearts of those who believe in them. Some people are constantly looking for them, searching for them in many strange and inaccessible places, not knowing that the Golden Age has long ceased and that good fairies leave only once. After their leaving, the high mountains and dense forests remained empty and silent. The stones around the water also keep silent, as if they do not want to give a clue when and in what direction they went. They left no trace behind them, except for the story that they were once wrapped in golden strands of beautiful, long hair, dancing and flying in dresses of clouds. These golden threads of a miraculous world have remained intertwined in many lyrical and epic verses, from which emerged the poetry of unattainable and special goddesses of light that once protected man from evil and about the man who failed them. Unable to resist the evil that overwhelms him, he began to trample everything in front of him. Under his feet were fairies and their shelters. Even the arrows and the thorny paths did not help them to resist his dark intentions. Terrified, they helplessly watched the saddest of all ruins in the world, the ruin of a man. The song ceased, guns started shooting and people went to war. Everything turned into ashes and sorrow. The Gods of light disappeared in the clouds of smoke. According to the legends the unhappy fairies started wandering through the mountains and singing songs with the winds. They were trying to protect their mountain world from a man they trusted no more. If people started to take healing herbs, they would throw them from the cliffs into the abyss, because they didn’t want to share their power over healing herbs with others. They were hiding them in their secret gardens and caves. The life of each of them was related to a particular tree, plant, mountain, spring, river or a lake. There wasn’t a place they couldn’t live in or build their fairy castles on: they lived in lower clouds and protected Perun, the God, inside thick treetops and in the sea, they fed on roe milk and rode deer. There were as many good fairies as there were springs in the mountains. While they were residing there, the sources were inexhaustible and healing. They often chose caves for their home, and there only the chosen ones could see that wonderful another world and the beauty of their long, scattered hair. That world turned into a maze of rocks with no way out before many visitors. They wanted to capture the fairies and fell into their own trap, because they did not know that it was necessary to live in it for the knowledge of nature, its secrets and laws. Instead of trying to get closer to it, their behavior moved away from it more and more. Unrestrained and noisy, blinded by their own stupidity, they could not see what is rarely seen: an untouched world, bathed in sun and streams, inspired by life and purity, surrounded by spring and joy, from whose mountains the smells of pine trees and beautiful field flowers are lowered. They cut down the forests, trampled flowers, and the paradise silence turned into noise. Fairies loved music, but, most of all, they hated noise. They went to some quieter places because of the noise that civilization had brought into their castles. People drove them away with their constant comings and the destruction of their caves. The ones that lived in the springs, lakes and streams turned into swans and miraculous birds in order to hide from people. And then, from somewhere, tireless hunters, who wandered for days in the valleys and forests in order to catch one of these birds, appeared. There remained only a story that some people are still talking with good fairies. Some look for them in rare flowers, in the first dew, in marvelous circles of mushrooms that, according to the legend, grew in places where fairies once had danced. Even today there is a belief that they could come back some day; maybe then when people finally take their own garbage with them. And what about the ruined caves, plants, springs, lakes and rivers? Will they come back, too?
Good fairies leave only once, author Suzana Stojanović, November 20, 2007