“The job fairy ain’t going to come give you a job,” Francis’ father used to say, or “the dishes fairy ain’t gonna wash the dishes.” The homework fairy wasn’t going to do his homework, and the wish fairy wasn’t going to make stuff happen.
Francis couldn’t help but laugh, then, when the packages started appearing all over the city. At first, people thought it was glitter-bombing, some sort of very strange flash mob thing, something silly and innocuous. A few paranoid people thought maybe that it was a strange way to spread anthrax or something else nasty and weaponized. Some people (and somewhere deep in his heart, Francis was one of those people), just believed.
Believed in the Magic Fairy, and the Hope Fairy, and the Love Fairy. Believed in the pancakes delivered to them them, little white boxes wrapped up in ribbons. Believed when they opened the box, when they saw the tiny glass globes inside, that there was something for them.
And maybe it was the belief, and maybe there really was a Hope Fairy, but people became less depressed, and more happy. In this Rust Belt city, people being optimistic was a novel thing, a bright light of sunshine in a grey town. It lit up the whole place.
And maybe the belief and the hope fueled things, and maybe there really was a Love Fairy, but people started acting kinder to each other, started being a little more considerate, a little less cut-throat. Francis brought dinner for the old lady next door. His neighbor saved him a parking spot Monday night. A girl who’d never given him the time of day smiled at him.
And maybe that all just made things seem magical, but when Francis found his feet floating a foot off the ground, holding the hands of the girl, that girl, he had to laugh… and call his father. And tell him, “Dad, I gotta tell you, but the Magic Fairy just showed up.”
And Dad, Dad just laughed. “So did the cleaning fairy, son. Guess I was wrong.” He chuckled again, a little wry. “But, tell you what, son, I still ain’t seen no job fairies.”
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