"N" is NOT for NOSTALGIA ....

Happy Monday everyone.

I hope you all had a pleasant weekend. For some strange reason I feel very nostalgic today. Since I have so many NEW blog friends, many of you hadn't read my last year's posts. Some of my best flash fiction was written in A-Z 2011 and I would like to share my "N" post with you, because it is one of my favorites from that challenge.

I hope you all enjoy it. I know my fantasy writers will. Have a great day today. May the joy of the weekend carry you through the mundane Monday morning blahs...

In a forest glenn a sun-kissed waterfall twinkles and cascades over jagged rocks into a tranquil sapphire pool. Nymphs and fairies glide along the surface, dancing to an unheard song. 

A flaxen-haired youth approaches. He smiles. A smile so captivating the nymphs come out of their revery to stare at the stranger. With each one of his steps the fairies sigh and beckon to him.

The nymphs and fairies line up along the pond’s edge, all flirting for the young man’s attention. In a voice that can charm a spider into giving up flies, he introduces himself and asks about the exquisite beauty surrounding him. “I have never laid eyes on such a heart stopping scene," he said, locking his bright eyes on them.

Swooning, none of the mystical ladies could answer him. He meanders around the pond and kneels at the edge. The stillness of the clear water reflects every breathtaking detail.

Mesmerized, he gazes into the liquid mirror. His breath escapes him. “Could this image be mine?” he whispers. Revived, the nymphs and fairies zoom to him and tug at his hair, sleeves, and back. Ignoring them, he stares into turquoise eyes framed by long, thick lashes. 

Hissing buzzes in his ears followed by assaults to his face. He swats his hand making contact with several fairies, hurting them. The others pick up the injured and dart away. 

Hungry and thirsty he reaches into his canvas bag and takes out food and drink. Nourished, he stretches out and falls asleep.

Hours later, the nymphs return. They place beside him a goblet made of etched gold filled with sweet nectar. Clasping hands, they dash into the nearest tree and wait.

The warmth of the morning sun wakes the young man. Stretching, he sits up and notices the goblet. “How thoughtful.” He raises the goblet. “To this enchanting place.” He takes a deep sip. An unnatural compulsion to look at himself takes over ....

After three days of reflection, the youth passes. Upon his last breath, the fairies and nymphs gather around him, tears flowing from their eyes. The fairies sprinkle his body with glittery fairy dust as the nymphs’ lyrical voices chant their agony. 

His body dissolves into the earth and with a burst of bright light, long spikes of emerald shoot from the ground. Between each spear a stem rises as a bud forms and blossoms into the first Narcissus. Thousands more yellow and white trumpets announce their arrival and blanket the edge of the pond. A subtle scent perfumes the air and the nymphs and fairies take flight.