Creative Writing: Mabel

"Hmmm, yes. This is fairy's land," Mabel murmured, gazing up at the gray bare trunks of the early spring trees. Kate's voice thudded into Mabel's reverie from behind her. "What are you talking to yourself about this time, May?" Mabel didn't answer, only pushed a lock of deep brown hair up into her fuzzy pink hat. Kate tramped her way through the soggy snow, and stopped beside her friend. "Why are we out in these wet, cold trees? My feet are freezing! When you said you wanted me to come out with you to your grandparents' farm, I didn't think getting ourselves turned into popsicles was part of the deal." Mabel's eyes roamed the trees above her. "I bet the fairies have ice-tipped wings which reflect the sunlight. And their hair is white with autumn-orange colored flowers in it." Kate blinked. "I don't understand what you're talking about. And it's boring walking to nowhere." "Such lovely echoes... we'll have to stop a bit and yell,

I was just trying to look at my surroundings the same way I did when I was younger. Back then, the small things lit up my world." Kate looked around her, taking in the emaciated-looking branches of the stripped-bare trees. The thought of a spooky ghost forest crossed her mind, but she quickly flicked it away. "We can't be expected to act the same way at sixteen like we did when we were six. We can't go out into the woods just to look for imaginary beings we tell ourselves don't normally exist, yet we'll make an exception for the day. It doesn't make sense." Mabel stared at the ground, her forehead wrinkling at Kate's words. Then she looked up with a small smile. "That may be so, but we don't have to lose the imaginative part of our childhood." Kate humphed and threw her arms out, as if dismissing Mabel. "I can't make you see sense if you can't see it