My Own Self

Hamish lived with his mother in a tiny house way up in the hills, far from any neighbors. He was six years old and had a habit of saying "just five more minutes!" whenever his mother told him to do anything. Their house sat all alone on a misty hillside, surrounded by nothing but wild grass and old trees.

Hamish's mother always told him stories about the strange lights that would bounce past their windows on foggy nights.

Every night, Hamish's mother would follow the same routine. After they had dinner, she'd make sure the house was warm and cozy, then tell Hamish it was time for bed. But Hamish thought bedtime was boring – he'd pretend he couldn't hear her and keep playing with his wooden blocks and toy soldiers near the fireplace.

But one chilly evening, right at the start of winter, something felt different. The wind was howling like a hungry wolf, rattling the windows so hard it sounded like they might break. Hamish's mother knew this was exactly the kind of night when strange things could happen.

"Hamish, it's time to go to bed," she said.

But Hamish just continued playing with his toys and pretended he didn't hear her.

"If you don't come to bed right now, you're going to be in big trouble, mister!"

Hamish just shrugged.

Finally, his mother tried one last time: "The fairies might come and take you away!"

At this, Hamish actually laughed. "I wish they would – I would have someone to play with!"

His mother went to bed, leaving Hamish sitting by the fire with a proud smile that quickly turned into a lonely frown. The house felt much bigger and quieter without his mother there.

Then something amazing happened. There was a soft swooshing sound in the chimney, like someone sliding down on a pillow, and suddenly – plop! – the tiniest girl Hamish had ever seen landed right next to him. She had sparkly silver hair that looked like moonbeams, eyes as green as summer grass, and cheeks as pink as rose petals.

Hamish's mouth fell open in surprise. He always thought his mother had made up the stories about fairies.

"Um... who are you?" he asked.

"My own self!" she squeaked in a voice that sounded like tiny bells. "Who are you?"

"Just my own self too!" he said. He remembered his mother telling him to be careful with your words around these magical creatures.

And then the real fun began! The tiny fairy showed Hamish things he'd never dreamed of. She could make little animals out of the fireplace ashes that actually moved around! She created tiny towns with teeny-tiny people who walked and talked when she blew on them like dandelion seeds.

But as they played, the fire started dying down. Hamish grabbed a stick to poke at the logs, trying to make them brighter. That's when it happened – a tiny hot coal jumped out like a shooting star and landed right on the fairy's itty-bitty foot!

The scream she let out was louder than anything he'd heard before. Hamish dropped the stick and covered his ears, but the fairy's cry got louder and louder.

There was another swoosh in the chimney. This time, Hamish didn't stick around to see what it was – he ran to his bedroom faster than a rabbit and dove under his covers.

From his hiding spot, he heard a sharp voice from the chimney: "What's going on down there? Who's hurt?"

"It's my own self," sobbed the tiny fairy. "I burned my foot! Owww!"

"Who did it?" the voice demanded angrily.

"Just my own self too!" wailed the fairy girl.

"Well then," snapped the voice, "if you did it your own self, what's all the fuss about?" And with that, he heard a quick scuffle and a squeak as the fairy mother grabbed her daughter by the ear and whooshed them both back up the chimney.

Hamish lay in bed for a long time that night, his heart thumping like a woodpecker against a tree. Eventually, he fell asleep.

The next evening after dinner, when his mother said it was bedtime, Hamish was already in his nightshirt before she finished her sentence.

"Well, look who's finally ready for bed!" his mother said with a smile.

Hamish hugged her extra tight and thought to himself maybe, just maybe, mothers do know best.