Lessoc Fountain - a fairy-creature tale

Ch. 27 Snail-Shell Tea

Cocot spent the morning staring at the same page in a cookbook. She wanted to make some tea, but she was trapped in the passages of her mind. She couldn't figure out how to escape.

She was still standing over the book when a small fairy flew up to the window and knocked timidly on the glass. He cupped his hands around his face to look in, then flew off, only to reappear through a crack in the ceiling to the attic.

"Coquelicot?" he asked.

"Hello," she replied. "Can I help you?"

"Help me?"

"I don't.... Do I know you?"

"Coquelicot, I'm Soufflé. I'm Soufflé," the fairy repeated. "What has happened to you?"

"What happened to me? I don't think anything.... That is, I don't remember—" Cocot broke off in the middle of her sentence. With a jolt of fear, she was certain that she was forgetting something important. It was the same sensation as suddenly walking on a hidden patch of ice, the ground sliding out from underneath her feet and the world tipping sideways as she fell. She had forgotten everything. "I don't remember!"

"What is your name?" the fairy asked.

"You called me Coquelicot."

"But do you remember it? And what about your mother?" He flew up and around in agitation.

"My mother?" No, she did not remember any mother. The nick-name Cocot came back to her, though. "I am Cocot. She called me Cocot. Is that right?"

He sucked in his breath sharply and kept flitting about. Suddenly, he dove for the table, landing on the cookbook.

"The tea, yes, of course. You wanted to make this tea the other day. Today it might save you. I will find you an empty snail shell to use a cup...that is the way to prepare this tea." He rubbed his hands over his scraggly face and tugged on the ends of his grey beard. "Yes, it might do the trick."

"All right," she gasped. "But I don't know how to make tea. I don't know how to do anything." The emptiness in her mind spiraled on and on, and her heart raced at the thought of falling into that nothing.

Souffle's wings fluttered with blinding speed and he was instantly level with her face. His bushy eyebrows pinched together and his hairy, pointy ears wiggled anxiously. "Who cast this spell on you? Was it that great fairy, that pompous donkey who styles himself a prince and rightful ruler of these hills? He'll be put in his place soon enough, I tell you. Now, sit down, child. Here, sit on the chair. I will be back quick as a bat catching a bug with the shell. I will help you make the tea. No, don't cry, I'll be right back."

The fairy disappeared, leaving Cocot sitting on a chair. The pages of the cookbook blurred from her tears.

By the time Soufflé returned, she was crouched in the middle of the floor, crying.

"Oh, please don't cry, little Coquelicot, we will clear this curse and if not, I'll fly straight into that hill through the East Gate invited or not. There will be a terrible price to pay for whoever did this. No tears, now. No tears. Did you eat?"

"Eat?"

"Well, I'll bring in some berries and oh, look what we have here: a bit of dried cake. Crunch on this, while you put the water on. Fill the pot with water first, there you go. And we'll have to start the fire...." Soufflé was a blur, zipping around, telling her exactly what to do and how to do it. Forty minutes later, she was at the table with a snail shell full of steaming tea and a napkin piled high with raspberries in front of her. She took a cautious sip.