A Little Pixie Dust
By Eleine Kruez
I looked around my creator's studio one last time. I know it would be a while until I can see it again, if at all. Last week my partner, the male pixie smiling sadly from the other side of our creator's worktable, and I had been finished after a month and a half of dedicated hard work. Yesterday the final coat of paint had dried completely and now I am looking around the room that had stood witness to our (and dozen others) creation from conception 'til completion from behind a colorless plastic box.
I understand I am to be a gift to a special friend of our creator. It saddened me that I would not be able to stay with my partner, but we both know we were created for this purpose. The creator's friend, the one who comes in the afternoon while the master works, had talked nonstop about our roles being very romantic. She had talked to us when he was out of the room, telling us how we would be united when the time was right. She shared the Master was not yet ready "to commit" so he wished to use us to let the special lady know of his feelings until he is ready to tell her himself.
I agree with the master's friend wholeheartedly. I may be lonely without my partner for a while, but I know master will come through. Perhaps even sooner than the people around him give him credit for. His heart is strong. I know it to be true. He wouldn't be able to produce such beautiful art otherwise. Master simply needed to mature a little more. To grow a bit more. And when he does, I'm sure the right woman will bring me and my partner together once again.
The door opened and master returned with the wrapping paper. My partner and I said our goodbyes without any movement from our wooden limbs. One minute I was looking at my partner, the next I was swathed in darkness. I was turned sideway as (I assume) he taped the wrapping paper in place. I closed my eyes and awaited the meeting of my owner. If Master holds her feelings in the highest regard, then I have no doubt she must be an excellent lady. She would be unequaled in beauty and grace, possessing the sweetest of temperament and a heart of untarnished gold. She would be the perfect woman for one of the most wonderful men, living, breathing, wooden or otherwise.
After being confined in darkness for three days, I was unprepared for the sudden light that flooded my little dark world underneath the wrap. I learned from listening around me that my new owner is named Lindsay and that she was going to spend the weekend in L.A. as a gift for her 18th birthday.
Master had secured a promise from her to open the box only at the day of her birth, hence the long wait. Her cousin (as I've heard) Charise has been coaxing her to open the present early, but Lindsay would not be swayed. I admire her for that, and I'm further convinced that she would be an amazing owner and that she would make Master a wonderful girlfriend.
When my blue-painted eyes adjusted to the light, I was astonished to see my predictions weren't off. Lindsay was a very pretty lady with long blond hair. She gasped as she studied me admiringly after removing me from the box. "It's beautiful."
I was wrenched from her grasp and I finally saw Charise. Up close. Very close. She held me away then wrinkled her nose, squinting as she turned me this way and that. "Yeah, I guess. Though he could've gotten you something in glass, or metal. That would've been much nicer. And in one of those crazy designs that don't resemble anything but looks amazing." She handed me back to my owner. I'm not growing fond of my owner's cousin. She's not endearing, not the least bit.
And the guys she was flirting with at the hotel lobby were wrong. She doesn't look anything like a younger Brooke Shields despite the hair. Broken Shields, anyone?
"Well, I love it," Lindsay declared, raising her chin defiantly. "It's beautiful and the pixie is very cute."
Thank you, Lindsay. I knew I was going to like having you as my owner.
"Yeah, whatever," Charise shrugged, looked away and turned her attention to the tickets she retrieved from her bag. "Look at these, tickets to Colin Blanco's new movie!" She saw that my owner wasn't paying her the attention she thought she deserved and scowled. "Put it away, Lindsay. We're here to explore the wonderful city of lost angels, not to drool over wooden pixies!"
Owner smiled at me one last time before gingerly replacing me in my plastic cocoon. Cocoon because I didn't want to think of the plastic encasement as a coffin no matter how closer it is as that than to a cocoon.
The world once again disappeared in the darkness of Lindsay's bag as she zipped me safe in her purse. I could hear Charise gushing over the latest films released and her intention of dragging Lindsay to see them after they've done some sight-seeing. I tuned her out and smiled in contentment. My owner and master would make a great couple, I thought, before I lost myself to sleep.
I was jolted awake by the shouts. The contents of Owner's bag jostled around me. I frowned, wondering what was happening. I could hear a great deal of commotion outside the bag. I do hope nothing untoward has happened to Owner.
It finally quieted down, and the bumpy movements ceased. Good thing too, I was starting to get motion sickness. I was made with a thin platform so I could stand firmly on a solid surface. I hoped Lindsay would find a nice spot for me in her dresser or table. Somewhere I can see a lot of things and enjoy the view.
The bag was ripped open and an unfamiliar man peered inside with the sun glaring behind him. Oh, no! He was the thief and his victim had been Owner! He dumped the contents of the bag onto the dirty ground and rummaged for anything of value he could find. He took the wallet and Owner's cards, but left me along with the other stuff on the floor. I wanted to cry, and if only wooden statues could, I would.
I've been stolen from my rightful owner and deserted on the grimy cement. What's worse, I was in another city, far away from Master's home. I knew I had to keep alive the tiny flame of hope that Lindsay would manage to track me down, but even I know my wish was next to impossible. I would be thrown into the rubbish and never see my partner, owner or master again. I wanted to think that the mushroom that was sheltering me was wilting at the bleakness of my situation, but it was only the force of being thrown so thoughtlessly onto the ground that caused it to teeter precariously close to being broken completely from its stalk. If only wooden pixies could cry. Nature joined me in my grief and it rained instead.
The bell of the shop rang, alerting the old woman of costumers. I didn't bother looking at the newcomer. Though costumers were practically unheard of in this dingy store in what I can only assume to be located at the end of the world, they don't interest me.
The people who go through the door were mostly lost tourists anyway, only concerned with asking for directions that they barely spare a glance around the merchandise displayed. And if they did look around, they never stray near the bargain bin.
Not that I blame them. The store's filled with odd knickknacks from all around. Some of the stuff being sold is probably worth a lot if one could unearth it from beneath the bedrock of dust that settled over them. If the normal products looked that bad, you can only imagine what my newfound friends and I look like. If I feel sorry for myself underneath the slanting mushroom, I feel worse for the panda with the broken bamboo. It even looks like he's been smoking bamboo weed with his stick, no thanks to the strings and puffs of dust that covered him.
"Lost, dearie?" the woman asked from behind the counter, not even budging from her wicker chair in front of the electric fan.
"Nope, your store looked so cozy from outside. Can I look around?"
"Help yourself then."
That got my attention. Cozy? The lights were dim and the windows were grimy. Even from all the way here I could see that. Did she have bad eyesight as well as bad taste?
I tried not to get my hopes up, and I tried really hard not to be dismayed when she moved toward the fake voodoo dolls across panda and mine's bin. Everyone who's looked around was amused by them. There are only three left because they're the only ones selling in the entire store.
"How cute!" she exclaimed, taking two then moving toward the counter. As she passed by, along with all my hopes of seeing the world beyond dust and more dust, she paused and stared at the corner designated for rejects.
She rummaged for a while but in the end, I joined the two voodoo dolls in her purchase. As the old lady bagged me and my battered mushroom, I caught glimpse of my new owner. She was smiling as she waited for the old lady to hand her her change.
She wasn't as pretty as Lindsay, but she could hold her own. Short blond hair and smiling blue eyes, she wouldn't reunite me with my partner, but I knew she'd take care of me. That should be enough.
I didn't expect my new owner to shove me (and my newfound voodoo friends) into a suitcase right after rushing back to a hotel. As my eavesdropping skills have divined, we were going back to her home after an extended holiday after a cousin's wedding. I have no idea where "home" was, but judging from the long hours it took to reach point A to point B, it was far from LA, though not that much since I didn't hear any plane or train and it didn't take more than 24 hours of non-stop driving.
When she finally freed us form our dark prison, I noticed that we were in a bedroom decorated in shades of blue. She set me on her nightstand then the voodoo dolls went with her clothes to the laundry basket for washing.
When she was finished with unpacking and after her shower, she sat on the bed with a rag and reached for me. She carefully wiped off all traces of dust from my person, cleaning my mushroom and stand as well.
When this was over, she let the rag sail across the room and it fell right into the dirty clothes basket and she smiled. "Now she'll have nothing to complain about." She picked me up and held me at arm's length, examining me thoroughly. "A little rough on the edges, but I think you're really beautiful and special."
Lady, you have no idea. I come as a set and I was crafted by one of the youngest geniuses of this millennia. Let me see anyone top that.
She smiled at me one last time before setting me back on the table and turning off the lights. "You're bunking with me tonight, but tomorrow, you'll come home to a mansion."
Uh-oh. That doesn't sound promising. I watched my new owner sleep. But she wouldn't stay my owner, if her words were anything to go by. Oh, please, please, Great Cosmos, if you can hear me. Let her be my owner. I know going home is hopeless, but if possible, let me be happy with this blond owner. She seems like she'll take care of me the way Lindsay might've. Please, please, let my owner be her….
Apparently the Great Cosmos and I don't get on well together. It's been four months since I've been given to my new (and hopefully last) owner. She's not too bad when she's in a good mood. She takes care of me and she never fails to remind the maids to keep me dust-free.
Plus she's never hurled me across the room when she's angry. I've seen her do that to a lot of vases. They never recover.
I sat on the prominent position of keeping guard over her precious memorabilia. Whenever she's feeling down (these times precede her bad moods) she would look at the pictures on the display shelf.
I think Adrienne is lonely. I've seen her friends, and with the exception of Monique, the one who bought me from the thrift shop, they don't seem to like each other very well.
I think it's safe to say Owner has too many teenage hang-ups. She needs someone to slap her back to reality. I've seen her boss and bully the people around her as if she were some sort of superior human being, but I've also seen her vulnerable when no one else is around.
Owner isn't perfect like Master or Lindsay or even half-way decent like Monique, but she's not a bad person. Sometimes I think I hear Master's voice from outside her room, talking and laughing with her, and I remember Master and the partner I may never see again.
It makes me sad, but thinking about Owner not having someone with her—even just briefly—is even sadder. Master and Lindsay would make a wonderful couple, but I think Adrienne needs someone like Master more that Lindsay does.
And it's a crying shame we're both doomed to just each other's company for all time. Worse still, when she's obsessing over whoever owns the sweater she brought home few weeks before. I think Owner's slowly losing it. I hope she wills me to Monique.
"Oh, yeah? FINE!"
Owner kicked the door behind her then dumped the box she was holding on the floor then glared at the speck of nothing outside the window. Dylan and Adrienne were starting college in three weeks and they have decided to share a flat.
Of course their love life wouldn't be complete without the occasional (though of late, it's becoming habitual) lover's spat. I was with the pictures in the earlier box so I missed what they were fighting about this time.
After almost a year of what can only be describes as crazy relationship, you'd think they're past trivialities that usually tore couples apart. They've broken up and gotten back together countless times to drive the people around them insane over the summer alone. I've even lost track whose turn it was to blow the fuse this time.
It was Adrienne last time, over driving together despite having no more space in Dylan's car after she had shoved all her boxes in the trunk, backseat and passenger's side. Then Adrienne again because they missed lunch while they tried to navigate the highway after their map flew right out of her hands. Right. It was Adrienne's turn now.
I inwardly sighed. And to think I had been looking forward to them moving in together. Master hasn't been to Owner's room that often (despite Sinjun's accusations) to notice me sitting prominently next to the late Mrs. Blanco's black and white snapshot.
I've been patient, waiting for the right time when fate would step in to make destiny come true, but so far I've been disappointed. And yes, melodrama is contagious. My owner is rubbing off me.
I mentally counted to ten. Nothing. I counted to twenty. Still nothing.
Huh? Shouldn't Master be thundering up the stairs now (eschewing the elevators because they'd take too long and he hasn't the patience to wait), ready to apologize and set things to right?
It may seem unfair that Master's the one who has to apologize most of the time, but he does it mostly to humor her. They both know who was at fault. And Master knows it's better to apologize to Owner for whatever than have her bawling even if it was her who messed up. He's a softie that way. He can't stand seeing Adrienne cry, or upset. And Adrienne does apologize when it counts. And fragile china is saved whenever Master apologizes for the petty squabbles.
However, he's not apologizing now? Maybe Owner's gone too far this time. I prepared myself for a scene of carnage. She goes a little cuckoo whenever she doesn't get her way.
She surprised me by jerking her door open and taking a deep breath. "Okay, I'm sorry, alright? I shouldn't have threatened the lady—despite her stripping you naked before me, all but begging me to gouged her eyes out or call out a hundred pigeons to peck them at the very least!" She stilled, waiting for a reply. Nothing.
She scowled. "FINE!" She stormed back to the room and angrily plopped on the bed, glaring daggers at the ceiling.
Someone was moving outside. Master poked his head into the room. "Did you say something?"
She snorted then turned her back to him. He let out a sigh then walked into the room, depositing the box in his arms on the table next to me. Master walked toward the bed then hugged her from behind.
"Hungry?" She mumbled something I couldn't decipher. He laughed as she faced him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face to his neck. "I can't serve you the woman's liver, but will I do instead?"
I turned away from Master and Owner, granting them the privacy they deserved. It was only then that I noticed another pair of eyes averting his gaze.
It would be impossible to describe my feelings when I realized who sat quietly in the box next to me. I could try, but all I would come up with are a jumble of words that make no sense whatsoever. My partner smiled from beneath his leaf umbrella and I returned it from underneath my mushroom, a little skewed and worn, but still standing tall.
It had taken a while, but we've found each other at last. Things may not have gone according to plan, my intended owner may not be my current one, and however long and far my journey had become, Krista's prediction became true. He and I were reunited when the right Owner for our Master came along.
Yay! This sort of ties up the loose ends (I think—I HOPE ) regarding questions on how Adrienne got the pixie and stuff. Thank you, everyone, for reading this and Breathing Life into a Statue. And if you haven't read that one, read it, now! ::grin::
Oh, yeah, I tweaked the male pixie's umbrella a bit. In part 9 of statue, his umbrella was a mushroom. I changed it to a leaf since that made more sense (to me anyway). I know there are A LOT of typos and mistakes in my works and I do plan on editing them, especially statue, so don't you worry. I only ask for your patience. Thank you.
Peace, love, and weed-smoking pandas!