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Silver Tears

by kemppotatoe


No one knew where Braddah came from. The little air faerie lived in Faerieland and attended faerie school, because everyone thought she should be treated like any other young one.

      Braddah was not just any ordinary faerie, though. She could fly higher, cast better spells, and smile more brightly than any other student faerie. Although the others had family and friends, Braddah was happier.

      And she just couldn't explain why.

      Braddah smiled at the outcome of her work. Set inside a small spell jar, a miniature storm cloud swayed and hit the glass walls, attempting to break free. Braddah picked up the bottle and observed. Perfect! A storm in a bottle, only a skilled air faerie could accomplish that.

      "Yes, Braddah?"

      Braddah showed her teacher the jar, grinning broadly. Miss Lela pursed her lips at it. She was a highly skilled adult air faerie… and she couldn't make a storm in a jar! How did Braddah do it?

      "Good," Miss Lela said, failing to smile.

      As the little air faerie returned to her seat, a shorthaired fire faerie walked over. "What's this?" she asked, pointing to the bottle.

      Braddah smiled at her work. "Storm in a bottle."

      The fire faerie, a high-tempered girl by the name of Densee, bent down and examined it. "How very interesting. And sort of weird, you know… whoops!"

      Braddah watched as Densee dropped the bottle, which shattered. The storm grew larger and fit into the classroom. All the faeries screamed, running around frantically.

      "Look what you've done!" Densee shouted at Braddah.

      "Me?" Braddah called back. "You're the one who dropped it!"

      Miss Lela stood up and shouted over the noise. "Stay calm! I'm going to get the principal to sort this out!" and she ran out.

      With a nasty look at Densee, Braddah raised her arms and muttered, "Calm down…. No more rain…. No more lightning… no more thunder…" Her arms slowly guided the shrinking storm into another bottle. She corked it immediately, and the storm continued to beat against the glass walls.

      Braddah looked at Densee. "You did that on purpose."

      "What if I did?" Densee said back, tauntingly.

      Out of instinct, Braddah conjured a gust of wind, hitting Densee in the face and causing her and a couple others to fall backwards.

      The fire faerie returned to standing position with a look of anger on her face. She then conjured a little fireball, which floated, slowly revolving, an inch off the palm of her hand. "You'll pay for that!" she called wildly.

      She thrust it, but Braddah's reflects were too quick. Another gust of wind caused the fireball to fly out an open window.

      Just then, Miss Lela walked in, accompanied by the principal. "Where'd the storm go?"

      Densee glared at Braddah. "Braddah was nice enough to get rid of it for us."

      Miss Lela pursed her lips again. "Ah. Thank you, Braddah."


      The next day in Miss Lela's class, Braddah, sitting in the back row, sent small breezes towards Densee the whole hour and a half. Densee, unaware of Braddah's trick, shut the window and put on a coat.

      Finally Densee noticed Braddah. After chucking a fireball at Braddah, which the air faerie managed to dodge, and setting fire to a rocking chair, Densee was given detention for the next week. "But, Miss Lela!" Densee cried. "Braddah was blowing on me all day!"

      "There's no proof of that!" Miss Lela said angrily, determined to show that Braddah was not capable of simple spells.

      In the hallway, as Braddah readjusted an air faerie clip in her blond hair, Densee walked over to her locker.

      "Hello," Braddah said pleasantly.

      Densee rolled her eyes. "You got me detention."

      Braddah continued to smile. "You got yourself detention, Densee. You shouldn't be setting walls on fire."

      That did it. "You know you were sending breezes to the front of the classroom all morning!" Densee shouted.

      "Just a little payback," Braddah said calmly.

      Densee looked disgusted at Braddah. "For what, may I ask?"

      "For everything you've ever done to me. Anything you ever said. Any trick you ever played, any insult you've ever thrown. Get over it, Densee, you're a loser."

      Densee wore an expression of utter disbelief. "Loser?" she whispered menacingly.

      "Making fun of other people to feel better about yourself is what losers do," Braddah said, still smiling.

      And with that, she flew away, down the hall and out of sight.


      Braddah sat on her bed. Her small dorm room, located in the Faerieland Castle, felt like home to her. The air faerie's pale hands fingered her only prized possession; a relic of her past.

      It was a necklace. A long silver chain ended gracefully in a circle. Words of another language were etched into the plate, and crested right in the middle was a round opal. As Braddah's finger swept over the white jewel, it seemed to brighten slightly.

      Quite unexpectedly, there was a loud knock on the door, followed by an unpleasant taunt. "Come out, come out, Braddah!"

      It was Densee.

      Braddah opened the door slightly and gazed out. It wasn't only Densee, but also a team of dark and fire faeries. Braddah kept her face expressionless. "Finished with detention?" she asked Densee calmly.

      Densee scrunched up her nose. "You think you're so funny! Well, we'll show you. Come on, girls!"

      Before Braddah knew what was happening, the crew of evil faeries grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her into the hallway. They grabbed at her hair, pinched her pointed ears, and ripped her dress.

      Braddah attempted to clamber back into her room, but the faeries held her back. Densee laughed and snatched at Braddah's neck, instead grabbing her jeweled necklace.

      "Stop," Densee said to the others, eyeing the necklace. When they continued to beat Braddah up, she shouted, "Stop! STOP!"

      Everyone froze. Densee frowned at the necklace. "What's this?"

      Braddah, tears in her eyes, shook her head. "I don't know," she croaked.

      A few fire faeries whispered things such as "Liar!" and "Take it from her, Dens!"

      Densee smiled. "You're wearing it. You must know where it came from…"

      Braddah shook her head. Densee's smile widened.

      "Well then… I guess you won't mind if I just… take it…" She ripped it off Braddah's neck. Braddah coughed and massaged her neck where the chain had rubbed against it.

      Densee grinned and threw it against the wall. "Come on girls," she said to her crew of faeries, "let's go!"

      They left Braddah, beat up and bruised, standing tearfully in the hall.


      Queen Fyora sat in her palace's library, casually reading an interesting novel. She was surprised when she heard a small sob from outside the library. Peering through the door's window, a bluish blur flew by.

      Fyora stood up immediately and ran into the hallway, only to find a small air faerie huddled against the wall, sobbing her eyes out and clutching what looked like a necklace…

      "What is it?" Fyora asked soothingly, sitting down on the floor next to her. When the young faerie looked up, she saw it was Braddah, that mysterious little girl who showed up when she was just a baby…

      Braddah held up her necklace. "Densee… broke it… the only thing… I ever cherished…"

      Fyora patted her head and took the necklace. The chain was broken. She examined the plate next, after wiping away a droplet of silver water.

      "Where did you get this?" Fyora asked, deciphering the other language in awe.

      "I've… always had it…" Braddah said.

      Fyora looked up at the faerie's face, and the silver droplet was explained. Instead of clear, watery tears, silver tears were streaming down Braddah's face. It was quite unusual to see anything of the sort.

      "Braddah, dear…" Fyora said, "Have you ever managed to read this necklace?"


      "Well, I just have."

      Braddah frowned. "Y-you did? What's it say?"

      Fyora looked back down at the message, wondering if she had possibly read it wrong. "You were born from the clouds…" Fyora said softly, "… and given special powers…"

      Braddah wiped a glittery silver tear from her face and bent over the necklace too. "What?"

      Fyora continued. "Silver tears aren't normal, Braddah…"

      "All the faeries at school call me weird," Braddah said glumly, leaning back against the wall.

      "No," Fyora said, "you're not weird… you're powerful."

      Braddah looked at the queen, quite unsure.

      Fyora still stared at the necklace. "This has a message! You are not any ordinary air faerie, Braddah… you are the more magical than you think…"

      Braddah smiled, almost without knowing why.

      Perhaps we are all like that. A little strange and unusual, a little bit different than all the rest. With the help of someone we love and trust, maybe we'll see that we're all just a little more magical than we think…

The End

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