A/N: I'm sure I'm not the only one around here who wishes to see more fairy stories, because they rock. So tired of waiting I took matters into my own clumsy hands...

Prologue

'Twas a longing came into my heart,

I could not sense the name...

It tore me from my sheltered hearth,

and swift to nature came...

“Michael Gregory McAllen and Darleen Franc Ellis McAllen were killed during a drunk driving incident earlier this evening. Their daughter, Isabelle Joy McAllen, was the only survivor.”

That’s all Channel 7 had said about my parents deaths. Nothing more nothing less, it was simple, to the point, and by now, yesterday’s news, literally. It was weird, having a stranger talk about the tragic deaths of your mom and dad like that. It didn’t seem right. Afterwards they’d gone on with a statement from the other driver, Paul Barkley, 24 years old and single. He kept blubbering on about how sorry he was. I’d thought about pressing charges for vehicular manslaughter. But I’m really not the revenge type of person.

I’d only sustained a sprained wrist and some bruises turned purple and green by now, but besides that I was in perfect health, not counting the heartache. The funeral was depressing enough; even raining for a classic scene. Except for my yellow umbrella, it was the only one I owned and happened to be my favorite color. I’d gotten some funny looks from people I didn’t even know, so what. Dad was always a practical one and mom the natural rebel. I’m sure they would have smiled at the picture.

It ended with the priest doing his thing, rest in peace and concluding from John, I wasn’t familiar with it. Why was he even there? We certainly didn’t go to church and weren’t buddies with God. I’m not really sure what I believe in, maybe science, that at least explained things. My grandmother rose use to call me a devil worshipper after I told her that, but then she died in her sleep, her time was out.

My time will run out to one day, but it wasn’t Jun 8th. It wasn’t in that car, and it certainly wasn’t by the hands, or lack there off, by Paul Barkley. No, I suspect I’ll go in a rather different way, in a different place, than were I am now.

“We are now boarding rows 1A to 5C, please have your passport and ticket ready.”

Glancing down through her glasses Isabelle sighed and gathered her backpack. After verifying her identification she set off for seat 4B, not a window seat. As expected, luck just wasn’t on her side these days.

It was a 3-hour flight to the international airport in New Jersey. There wouldn’t be much of a layover until she’d again have to board for another flight, this one 7 hours. Her destination? Dublin, Ireland.

She'd be moving there to live with her Great great uncle or some other distant relative. It was strange, a tugging in her somewhere wanted to go there. As if she was finally returning home. But she'd never been outside her small town before the accident.

A young man nearing his early thirties sat down in the ail seat, while an elderly man sat in the window. Yes, this was going to be a long trip. But for now I look to the future, and what the land of fairies will hold for me.