ROXY: A Tale of Wings, Wonder, and Worth

Roxy spread out her fine blue wings.
“Flutter, flutter, stretch, stretch,” she said as she tumbled out of bed. “Today will be a fine day; I hear it on the wind.”
She dressed in her favorite blue dress that matched her wings oh so well. While singing a sweet fairy tune in her sweet fairy voice she brushed a shell-comb through her curly gold hair and gazed out her window.
Below her little flower home was a crowd of fairies. Sitting in the center of the laughing crowd was none other than Clara herself. Clara had pretty pink wings and beautiful brown hair. She was as petite and graceful as Roxy could never be.  Roxy shook with such jealousy she nearly snapped the comb in half. “So much for a fine day,” she thought bitterly.
The thing about being tall, quiet Roxy was that she always got passed over. No one would talk to her if the beautiful Clara was in range. At dinner Roxy frequently sat alone. She didn’t like to be alone, but every time she sat down, the other fairies would get up and flock to Clara like bees to a flower.
But what bothered Roxy most about Clara was that no matter how pretty or elegant Roxy thought she looked, she would always be ignored. Clara was told she was lovely even when her wings were covered in dirt, and she was called special even when she led the entire butterfly flock astray.  No one had ever told Roxy she was special or pretty.
Roxy left her flower and went about her daily chores. She herded the butterfly flock over to Daisy Meadow, swept the floor in the Fairy Queen’s tearoom, and lit the lanterns that lined the forest paths. She was just lighting the very last lantern when she heard a flutter behind her. She turned around.
“Well if it isn’t the fairy with the ugly feet,” sniggered Clara.
Roxy hunched her shoulders, shifted her gown to cover her feet, and flew off toward her flower, the laughter of Clara and her friends echoing behind her. When she arrived at her house, she packed all her belongings and set off in search of a new home; a home where she would never be in Clara’s perfect shadow again.
She flew for miles; through forests, over rivers, and past hills. She saw villages and lagoons filled with fairies, mermaids, animals, and the other enchanted creatures that called the island home. But none of the places she passed seemed quite right for her. All were too big or too small; too full or too empty; too wet or too dry.
But when Lord Sun dipped his golden head just below the horizon and Lady Moon peeked over the tips of the mountains, Roxy found herself flying toward a large house. The house was made of sparkling pearl edged with silver. The stone walls glittered almost as if someone had captured the stars and used them to adorn to the most glorious, massive house Roxy had ever seen.
She flew to the doorknocker, which was about the size of her if not bigger. It took all the strength she could muster but she pulled the knocker away from the door, released it, and let it fall against the door with a BANG. She heard footsteps inside and the door was opened by a simple man in a brown apron. He was as large as one of the mermaids down in the lagoon. His eyes were lined with smile wrinkles and his entire face lit up when he grinned.
“Tell me, Roxy,” he said, “would you like to come in?”
Roxy nodded and followed the man up the stairs. She later realized she should have wondered how this giant man knew her name, but at the time, she was too tired to think about it.
The man opened a plain wood door. “Right there on the bench should be some fairy-size tea and scones,” he informed. “Help yourself.”
She flew to the bench and glanced around the room. Tables lined every wall. Each table was strewn with something different. Like a carpenter fairy’s workshop. This workshop however, looked like it was only used to sculpt life size figurines of creatures that lived on the island.
“Now, Roxy,” he began. “Why have you come?”
“Who are you?” Roxy asked.
He laughed. “I am king of the island.”
Roxy nodded. As crazy as it was, she believed him.
“Why have you come?”
“T-t-the other fairies; they make fun of me because I don’t look like Clara. I’m not short, petite, beautiful, o-or special.”
He smiled. “Who told you that you are not special?”
“I-I did, sir.”
“Roxy, you are Roxy. If I had wanted two Clara’s I would have made two. Now, you are special. Anyone who tells you differently speaks nothing but lies.”
Roxy remained silent.
“I make no mistakes. You look and act exactly how I imagined you would.”
“Ugly footed and tall?” Roxy wept.
He shook his head. “No, I imagined you would be Roxy. The fairy who is special and beautiful just the way she is.”
Again, Roxy said nothing. She was thinking: thinking about the fairies at home; about Clara; about everyone who had ever put her down. Finally, she stood up, curtsied, thanked the king for his hospitality, and began to fly home. As she was flying toward the rising sun, she turned around to look at the silver house. It was now nothing but a shimmer on the horizon. She turned and continued to fly home. “If a king thinks I am special,” she thought to herself. “Why does anyone else’s opinion matter?”