Disclaimer: I own nothing of this.
She thought it was an end of that. After all, so it was said in every possible fairytale, and she had read quite a few of them. She knew the words by heart, had heard them thousands of times.
And they lived happily ever after. End of story. Go to bed and wake up in a new day.
God knew it should have been so.
But stories tell little about real life; and real life, on the other hand, is never simple. There are no true endings; just peaks of highs and lows; a turning point; a new milestone maybe, but the story remains the same.
Especially in case of Sarah Williams.
She learnt very fast the truth. When meddling with fantastic, the real problem is not maintaining, but to get rid of it.
And she should have been aware of one simple rule: Never eat anything that comes from another world.
(And also: when the party is over, the guests never stay to clean up.)
The next day Sarah woke up and found her room in total disorder. Serpentines the fieries had so nicely brought with them lay on the floor, on her chairs, on shelves and boards. The remnants of delicious cream cake of the blue worm's missus (a plump violet coloured worm, wearing a white straw hat) were spread all over her room. The smell of over aged cream was making her slightly nauseous.
Feeling dizzy, she got up and moved next to the window, opening it. The fresh air made her feel a bit better.
The daylight was feeble. The sun was nowhere to be seen, hiding behind the dark clouds. A heavy rain was pouring down the ground, muddying the yard. The streets had turned into grey rivers, the water draining in sewers. A cold breeze made her shiver, and covering a yawn Sarah turned around. She groaned looking at the mess. It would take whole morning to clean up, but best to do it now. The other alternative would be facing an awkward situation with Karen and dad, explaining them the mysterious garbage in her room.
When she finally succeeded in getting rid of the serpentines and most of the cake, her morning fatigue had worn off, which was when she noticed that her feet were hovering an inch above the floor.
The whole house woke up at her screams.
As if the explaining the scream to her parents wouldn't have been enough, her problems didn't end there.
Sarah used to imagine flying would be a nice experience. The birds did it nicely, but they, on the other hand, had wings and did their flying within the boundaries of gravity. The true problem wasn't the effect Sarah's trip to the Underground had on her conducts of moving, but how it affected her place in the field in the law of physics. Put it in another way: the gravity stopped affecting her.
Sarah could have enjoyed it, unless even the slightest breeze wouldn't have tore her from her place and dragged her along. She came to appreciate every single water post, lamppost and rose bush outside her home. Since dad and Karen were out in the work she was more than happy to stay inside and watch after Toby. And if she and her brother went out, she strapped herself tightly with the boy, just in case there would arise a strong wind.
During the summer, with a gentle warm breeze, it wasn't that bad. And whenever no one was nearby, she practised the use of air currents. It was a hard job, but eventually she learnt it. She learnt that if she used her hands like sails, she could use the friction and manoeuvre her body. Like a boat, she glided through the streets her hands wide open, enjoying the wild wind ride. (To avoid suspicious glances she always wore roller-skates.) But Sarah knew that tender summer winds were a lot easier. And she came to dread the approaching fall, since it meant school and leaving the house to face the stormy weather.
But the storm came nevertheless, despite of Sarah wishes.
Yes. The story ends in here.
I have not written, nor have I planned more to this story. I might continue it in the future, but not now with so many other unfinished projects and stories. The forbidden fruit-idea amused me and bothered me until I wrote this, but I have no desire to continue. Well, not at the moment at least.