Chapter Text
Prologue
No matter what people have told you, well-meaning adults or professors, fairies are real. Real as me. Real as you. (Magic is real too, but we can argue the finer points of that another day.) Fairies are real, though they prefer to be called by the more elegant name of Fae. They walk around, eat, sleep, talk, shop, run errands and enjoy mindless tasks, just like humans do. You could have walked past one a dozen times and never even noticed.
This story is about a certain Fae by the name of Flins. If I tell you more than that, it’ll spoil the story. Suffice it to say that this is about Flins the Fae, the unexpected things that happened in his life, and how he handled it.
And before you go and accuse me of making all of this up, everything you’re about to read really happened. This isn’t a work of fiction. (A dreadful word, fiction. I call it the pernicious f-word.)
I know this account to be purely true and factual because a little birdie told me. An actual and eloquent little birdie. More of us might hear what the birds and the trees are saying if we truly listened. Magic is still here, and all around us. Sometimes you just have to give it a little nudge.
But I digress. This is a true story, told exactly how I heard it– from a little birdie.