Whimsia the Wingless Faery

"Help!" Whimsia screamed.

The only response she got was the spider's web vibrating with the echoes of her scream.

Whimsia sighed and gingerly tried to move her limbs again. Alas, all her appendages were still stuck fast to the gossamer, sticky surface of the spider's web.

What am I going to do? she thought.

She was probably meters and meters away from her village, which was located in the cusp of an old hollow tree some distance from her location.

"Can anyone help me?" she yelled again in a fruitless plea for assistance.

Spring was just blooming across the sodden world, and the sun streamed, light filtering through the pale green leaves just starting to unfurl on their respective branches. Whimsia glanced up at the sun with a sullen pout. Any other faery would have been glad of its warmth. But to Whimsia, sunlight was just a reminder of her abnormality.

Whimsia had no wings.

She had been born perfectly formed, but without them. According to the story she had heard so many times in hushed whispers, her mother had fainted dead away when she saw her deformed daughter, wingless like some minuscule human.

Whimsia had a hard childhood. None of the other children had wanted to play with her because she just looked so different. Without wings, she couldn't partake in normal kid activities like fly-tag and flying races. She was an outcast.

Most faeries derived their power from the sunlight, drawing in its energy through their wings. But Whimsia had no wings, and therefore had no power.

The only comfort Whimsia ever felt was when she was inventing things. In fact, Whimsia had been the one to invent the pulley system that drew up water from tree leaves (not that any of the other faeries needed it, considering that they could summon up water whenever they felt like it), and she had invented the useless, leaf-wings that lay haphazardly stuck to the spider's web next to her.

The wings had worked for a few moments, a few glorious moments when she felt the wind rushing through her chestnut brown hair (another abnormality - faeries were supposed to be raven-black haired or blonde. Brown was simply not accepted). She sighed again, mourning the loss of the wings that had taken her and her younger brother many weeks to build.

"Whimsia!"

Whimsia tried to turn around, but her head was still stuck to the spider's web. Was she about to be rescued?

"Over here!" she hollered, her heart pounding.

"I'm coming, Whimsia!" The voice was familiar, with a male timbre. Could it possibly be Prince Hernston, the most handsome faery in the entire forest?

Her rapturous vision of Hernston dissipated as the round, worried face of her younger brother Winston appeared in front of her.

"Oh. It's you," Whimsia said.

"You could be a bit more grateful," Winston replied with a pout. "I've spent all afternoon looking for you."

"No, I'm very grateful," Whimsia added, trying to add a sincere pleading tone to her voice. "Very grateful indeed."

"Too bad those wings didn't work," Winston said, motioning toward her fake wings while preening his real ones at the same time. "I thought for sure they would for a moment."

"They did work until I crashed." Whimsia scowled. "Now help me get out of here!"

Winston stuck his tongue out at her and began to rummage through his bag.

"I have just the thing to dissolve the web," he chattered as he searched.

Whimsia nodded listlessly until she noticed a dark shape out of the corner of her eye. Could that be -

"Watch out, Winston!" she shrieked, twisting in her bonds.

Winston jumped out of the way as a gigantic black spider leapt at him, madly clashing its pincers.

The spider landed back on its web and looked around furiously. Winston was no where in sight.

Please don't spot me, Whimsia thought. Please, please, please - oh, no...

The spider headed her way, deftly maneuvering itself down a glossy strand of web.

"Hey, over here! Eight-eyes!"

The spider turned around, all eight of its eyes fixing on Winston, who buzzed around its head, still shouting insults.

Winston suddenly broke away from the spider and headed toward Whimsia, a vial of something purple in his hand.

Whimsia felt something wet hit her arm, and the web dissolved around her.

"Catch, Whimsia!"

Whimsia caught the vial with her now free arm and began to dissolve the rest of the web.

"Hurry up with that!" Winston shrieked as the spider jabbed at him again.

"I'm almost done!" Whimsia shouted. "I just need to free my legs, and then I'll be free!"

She poured the rest of the liquid over her legs just as she realized her mistake. The web around her dissolved, and she began to freefall.

"Help!" she screamed, trying to grab a hold of anything that might possibly slow her descent.

Then someone caught a hold of her hand, and she hovered in midair.

"Thanks, Winston," she panted.

She looked up and saw the handsome face of Prince Hernston.

"I've got you now, Lady Whimsia," he announced in his deep voice, tossing his pale blonde hair.

Whimsia put a hand to her rapidly beating heart. "Oh, thank you, Prince Hernston," she cooed.

Hernston flew her to the nearest tree branch.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, Lady, I have to go save your brother." He flashed her a dazzling smile and zoomed off toward the spider web.

Whimsia sighed contentedly as she relaxed on the tree branch. It wasn't every day the Prince rescued you from a gigantic, faery-eating spider.


As Prince Hernston approached the little faery boy still zipping around the spider's head, he couldn't help but wonder how this family could always get into so much trouble.