Ralph and the Pixie

Looking afraid, Éha replied, ‘I have heard that one of those books contains all the Lore of the Elves. They are not the right people to wield such power. If they do, then no one will be safe, anywhere. Not even in your world.’

Once again, Deborah was struck by how cut off she was from the things that really mattered, the things that made a difference. And, she mused, from herself. She felt keenly the same impotence which plagued her back in her own world, where everything that had meaning, including control over her own life, was always out of her hands.

The scene faded, reverting back to the mere reflection of an incongruously sunny spring day, with blue skies and sun, and white cloud and peaceful meadow and trees. Both girls were thoughtful and quiet for some time.

‘I wish I could do something,’ Deborah said.

Éha sighed. ‘We Pixies have long wished we had the power to control our own lives. But wishing for a thing does not make it so. I would rather live in your world without magic. Malina has told me you have no Goblins, nor any other evil creatures.’

‘That may be true,’ Deborah replied, ‘but we have other problems. Like drugs and poverty and war. Malina was very lucky that she met Ralph right off when she arrived in my world. Things could just as easily have been a nightmare for her.’