Prologue

When I was a child, my father called me Dewdrop.

The first time I remember him calling me by that name was a sunny morning when I was roughly four. We were walking hand-in-hand in a park near the apartment we all shared. Mom was walking a ways behind, admiring us from a distance as we strolled along, plucking the dandelions that had fought their way up through the sod. I distinctly recall that we were picking the flowers to give to my mother.

“Helana, there’s a nice big one over there,” my father said, pointing at a big, lion-headed blossom a few paces away. I let go of his hand and ran over to the flower, kneeling in order to pick it with its long, elegant stem intact. When I stood, I realized I had soiled my dress; it was damp and the grass had stained it a horrifying shade of green. The sight of my ruined dress, for whatever reason, upset me so much that I burst into big, rolling tears.

“Hush, child,” my father cooed, brushing the tawny hair we shared behind my ear, wiping the tears from my cheek with his warm, comforting thumb. “There is nothing wrong with getting a little dirty,”

“I didn’t know the ground was wet!” I cried. “Mommy’s gonna be so mad at me!”

“Oh, she won’t be angry,” he assured me, grabbing my little hands in his giant palms. “She and I both know a secret,”

“A secret?” I asked, my tears slowing their descent at the slightest distraction.

“Yes, Helana. Would you like to know the secret too? I’ll tell you if you dry your tears,”

Hesitantly, I nodded my head and wiped away the wetness on my face. He smiled, and clasped my little arms in his fingers.

“One night, while everybody in the world was sleeping, the spirits of heaven came down to play together in the moonlight. They peered into the dreams of all the living creatures that were sleeping and if they are good, the spirits granted them their greatest desires.

“The sky was lonely and desired company, so the spirits created clouds. The sun wanted to rest when the day was done, so the spirits created the moon to light the night. People wished for love, and love was granted to them. Animals wished for full bellies, and they, too, were granted what they wanted most.

"The spirits were tired from making everyone happy, and had used up almost all of their magic. On their journey back to heaven, they spotted a dream they had missed. The grass was parched and desired nothing more than a drink. The spirits took pity on the plants of the world and couldn’t bring themselves to return to heaven without helping them.

“Unfortunately, they didn’t have enough magic to keep the foliage eternally quenched, but they had enough left to give them the morning dew.

“You see, Helana,” he said, reaching down and running his fingers across the slick grass. “The morning dew is the most precious gift the spirits gave the world.”

“Why?” I asked. “It goes away once the sun gets too high.”

“It’s so precious because it was the last gift the spirits gave. It is precious because it is finite. Its beauty is in its fragility---it’s in the fact that it can only live in the light for a few fleeting moments before it is slain by the sun,”

Sensing he had lost me, he smiled.

“The dew is the grass’s gift to you. Mommy knows this too. She won’t be upset about your dress,” I grinned, rushed with relief. “Shall we bring these flowers to Mommy?”

Mom was elated; she hugged me, hugged my father, and assured me that she didn't care about the dress. We settled in on a bench, both of them on either side of me. My father’s arm was draped around the back of the seat, his fingers touching my mother’s hair. I snuggled into his side, inhaling his scent in my tiny nostrils.

“What did you wish for, Daddy?” I asked. “What did the spirits give you?”

He smiled, grabbed me and lifted me so we were at eye-level.

“I wished for you to be safely born,” he whispered. “You are a single drop of dew, Helana. You are my Dewdrop, the most precious thing the spirits have given to the world.”

Looking back now, it all seems so unreal, so fake and skewed. Back then, when dandelions were not weeds, but flowers---when spirits gave the world everything it desired---being his little girl, his ‘precious Dewdrop’, was my most important thing. But then the sun rose and cast its impartial rays on us. The world was shown for the sham it really was; the dew was burned away.

Dry grass and hungry animals lurking in trees, all breeding hate under an empty sky.

That was what I had dreamed when the Father of Dew left the world.

- - -

Commentary:

Hello, my dear friends! Here I am on FictionPress again at last. I trust you all are wearing green? This the highly anticipated sequel to Trick, Origin! Aren't you all excited? On this St. Patrick's day 2009, I hope you all do me the inate pleasure of reviewing both this story and its prequel and I will do you the favor of being your entertainment. My goal is to get up to 1000 reviews for Trick before it has to come down and am currenly somewhere around 950, so please don't be afraid to tell your friends to R&R. Also, a very happy birthday to reviewers Mai-lee and Winter Flurry; thank you for the support, and have a good one!

I hope you all will continue to read onward, and enjoy yourselves!

-With love, Skylar Alexander