The Realm of the Tooth Fairies

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Megan was scared of getting her wisdom tooth removed. A childhood incident had left her very wary of the tooth-tinkering profession, so she wanted to avoid dentists if she could help it.

But the wisdom tooth was causing great pain. It did not make Megan feel very wise and kept on burrowing through her gum without any regard for her feelings. Enough was enough. The wisdom tooth had to go.

So Megan went to the dentist, her heart pounding in her chest as she approached the dreaded place. The very thought of entering this torture chamber made her feel nauseous, but she mustered all of her courage and ventured forth into the unknown.

The tooth-tinkerer was much more helpful than Megan’s tooth-tinkerer of yesteryear. He removed the wisdom tooth in a jiffy and put it into a little jar for Megan to keep as a memento.

Megan left the dentist feeling very proud of herself. She had a numb cheek and could barely talk, but she had faced her biggest fear.

When she went to bed that night, she placed the wisdom tooth beneath her pillow and drifted off into the land of nod. She was greeted by a shimmering little creature in the heart of an ancient woodland.

‘Where am I?’ Megan asked. ‘What’s going on?’

The little creature fluttered its wings and landed upon Megan’s shoulder. ‘I am a tooth fairy, Megan. You were very brave today.’

‘Oh – thanks.’

‘Follow me,’ the tooth fairy said, floating off through the trees. ‘We have been waiting for you.’

Hesitating slightly, Megan followed the tooth fairy through the forest. She could hear angelic singing and the fluttering of many wings. Before long, she gazed upon a giant pearly white tooth, which hundreds of fairies gathered around like fireflies.

‘Megan, we wish to reward your bravery,’ said her fairy escort. ‘You have shown extraordinary courage and we are very pleased with this.’

Suddenly, there was a fanfare of melodic trumpets. A regal-looking fairy emerged from a balcony on the upper echelons of the giant tooth.

‘Greetings Megan – I am Queen of the Tooth Fairies,’ announced the fairy, wearing a sparkly crown. ‘In recognition of your bravery, I grant you one wish. Within the confines of my kingdom, by the power invested in me as divine ruler and custodian of all teeth, great and small, I declare that anything you wish will be possible.’

Megan was blown away by this proposition. She pondered over it for some time, wondering what to wish for. The fairies floated around her in anticipation.

‘I wish –’ Megan hesitated. ‘I wish to fly!’

‘Very well,’ said the Fairy Queen. ‘Then fly you shall, oh brave one.’

In that moment, Megan was transformed into a beautiful fairy. She revelled in flying around the giant tooth castle, stopping off for some luncheon with the Fairy Queen before venturing off deep into the woods. Dozens of fairies travelled with her, singing and laughing with pure childlike innocence. Megan forgot all about her pain and woes, for no evil existed in this realm. Only joy and love existed in the Tooth Fairy Kingdom.

The following morning, Megan woke up in a daze. She felt as though she had been flying and singing all night, but she couldn’t remember where or why. All she knew was that she had been a brave girl.

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The Chipmunk and the Tree

The tree spoke to the chipmunk with utmost gratitude. ‘Thank you, my dear fellow. Thank you for watering my parched roots.’

The chipmunk grinned and showed off his large gnashers. ‘You’re very welcome, Mr Tree. I could tell that you were thirsty.’

‘Oh I was, dear boy,’ the tree sighed, his old branches creaking. ‘A terrible drought has fell upon the land. My roots have soaked up every last drop of moisture.’

‘I will bring you more,’ promised the chipmunk. ‘Give me a few days and I’ll be back with more.’

‘That would be marvellous,’ said the tree, overwhelmed with joy. ‘How can I ever repay you?’

‘Well,’ pondered the chipmunk, stroking his fluffy chin. ‘It would be nice to hear some stories.’

‘Stories?’ the old tree frowned.

‘Yes,’ said the chipmunk. ‘You have been here for hundreds of years. Tell me some stories of what you have seen.’

The old tree chuckled. ‘Be careful what you wish for, Master Chipmunk. Are you sure that you want to listen to me prattling on about winters gone by?’

‘Please, Mr Tree,’ begged the chipmunk. ‘I have always yearned to know what came before.’

‘Very well,’ said the tree. ‘But I warn you, Master Chipmunk – not all of my stories are pretty.’

The chipmunk made himself comfortable on one of the tree’s thick branches, nestled into a knotted groove. ‘What was it like?’ he asked, no longer able to contain himself. ‘What was it like before the world fell to ruin?’

‘Oh, it was beautiful!’ the tree exclaimed. ‘Many a rendezvous took place beneath my branches – secret lovers in the dead of night, picnics, children playing hide and seek – I was barely ever alone…’

The chipmunk gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘I don’t encounter many living things either. You’re not alone in that respect, Mr Tree.’

‘There used to be so many people,’ the tree cried. ‘But alas, they destroyed themselves – my boy, there has been so much death…’

The chipmunk bowed his head, weighed down by the sadness of the tree’s words. ‘Do you think the land will ever flourish again, Mr Tree?’

‘With creatures like you, Master Chipmunk, then quite possibly,’ the old tree replied.

The Importance of Having a Writing Space

The saddest part about moving house was saying goodbye to my dear writing desk.

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It was the place where I wrote three books and spent many hours of my life. I developed a very special connection with the corner of that room and instantly felt at peace and ready to create whenever I entered that space. But all good things must come to an end eventually…

In all honesty, I was ready to move on. Life in that stuffy flat had stagnated and fell to ruin, so I was extremely grateful for the opportunity to start afresh. The writing desk was the only thing I was sad about leaving behind, but I have now set up writing desk in my new house and began working on my fourth book!

I think that it is very important to have a designated writing space. Psychologically, it helps you to get into the zone more quickly. I am still waiting to develop a special connection with my new writing space, but I think that we will forge that bond through writing. As I give birth to my latest story, my writing desk will come alive with creative energy, which in turn will help to spur me on even further.