Ralph and the Pixie

‘Think of something, now,’ said Éha. ‘A place. A person. It doesn’t matter.’

For a long moment, Deborah was stumped. She did not want to think about her past, or about some of the bad things that had happened to her here either.

‘Let it come,’ the Pixie told her. ‘Don’t force it.’

Deborah let her mind wander. At once the scene began to shift, and another image began to overlap the first. As the stars and night sky faded, they were replaced by a land of wide green hills under a sunlit sky. In the distance was a great forest which grew upon high mountains. The forest and the mountains ended abruptly at the edge of this green, rolling country of orchards and farms, and atop a nearby foothill arose the most beautiful city Deborah had ever seen. Its high walls were of white stone, as were its many towers and parapets; the rooftops were either covered with gold leaf, or had been covered with some like substance which glittered in the sunlight. Within the walls, the streets were lined with elegant buildings, each of which looked to be an architectural masterpiece. Many standards fluttered in the breeze from spires atop the parapets and towers. The streets and courtyards were flagged with brightly-coloured tile mosaics, and each street was lined with beautiful flowering trees.