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A Hard Riddle

Aurelia lived in the country in southern Indiana, USA, the only child of professionals who had always dreamed of living outside a small town and had found a fairly new house on a few acres of played-out farmland. They had thought it would be a great place to raise children, then had only wanted the one. When Aurelia was seven, she had met a fairy at the edge of the woods. She had been going through a saucy stage, and had been magnificently disrespectful. As punishment, she had lost the power of speech.

The fairy may or may not have known the worry and expense Aurelia’s parents would suffer, nearly tearing their family apart. She may or may not have known the hell Aurelia would go through at the hands of doctors, psychiatrists, pharmacists, and school bullies, but the probability is that she wouldn’t have cared, either way.

So Aurelia and her parents learned American Sign Language and Aurelia made friends among the hard of hearing and among the hearing, as well. The school bullies seemed to be too stupid to understand that she couldn’t speak but she could hear, and they got many an elbow in the gut for things they “slyly” said behind her back. She got a lot of suspensions for violence.

There was talk of sending her to a special private school for troubled children, or even of home-schooling her, but neither of those ever happened.

Aurelia had to go to school on her birthday, which seemed unfair. She usually had to go to school on her birthday, and it always seemed unfair, but she was fourteen today and, for some reason she couldn’t fathom, it seemed particularly unfair today, as if today were extra-super-special.

All the way up the long driveway from the bus stop, she watched her feet scuffing the gravel and tried to put a finger on it, but she couldn’t do it.

A voice from her front porch said, like a birdsong borne on a fragrant breeze, “Look up, child. You’ll miss the world.”

She did look up, and there was the fairy she had met at the edge of the woods, those long years ago.

She had learned a lot since then about the consequences of bad manners, consequences to herself and to others, so she signed, courteously, “How nice to see you again. How’ve you been?”

The fairy laughed. “I’m well, as always. And you? Have you enjoyed your silence?”

Aurelia made the gesture for so-so, I could take it or leave it, and the fairy laughed again.

“It’s been seven years,” the fairy said. “And I’ll give you a chance to lift the curse.”

“Not a curse,” Aurelia signed. “A condition. You taught me a lesson, but you didn’t break me.” At the look on the fairy’s face, she added, “Begging your pardon.”

“Well,” said the fairy, “let’s see what you’ve learned. If you can answer my riddle, I’ll restore your power of speech. If you can’t, you’ll be speechless forever.”

Aurelia wanted to point out that she wasn’t speechless, she just couldn’t use her vocal chords, but one thing she had learned is “Discretion is the better part of valor”, or, as her grandmother said, “Least said, soonest mended.”

With a nasty twist to her mouth, the fairy said, “It lasts next to no time, and it lasts next to forever.”

Aurelia didn’t really care if her silence was lifted or not. At family gatherings, she could just smile sweetly and point to her mouth when relatives asked her if she liked school, had a boyfriend, or did sports. She liked being in the exclusive signing community, although word always got around the gen pop what the signs for “ugly”, “stupid”, and “gross” looked like.

Should she even try to lift the so-called “curse”? Did she really want to?

After a brief self-consultation, she decided she might as well try. If she guessed correctly, it would probably disappoint the fairy, and that was worth something.

“Lasts next to no time, lasts next to forever.” What could that be?

She scuffed in the gravel next to the stepping stone up to the porch. Then she looked. She really looked.

She pointed to the stone, ragged with the fossils of marine animals. They had lived brief lives, and now they were fixed in stone so hard that years of footsteps hadn’t worn them smooth.

The fairy made a sour face and disappeared.

Aurelia drew a deep breath. “Bye-eee,” she said, rustily. She could speak again. The next question was: Did she want to tell anybody?

MY PROMPT FOR TODAY: This stepping stone outside my house.

MA