What do you think fairies look like?

The following is not my "version" of what a fairy looks like. It is what SHE really did look like... Her name was Violate she lived in the garden of our home in Kalamazoo, Michigan. She was tiny, purple and smelled like flowers. Her hair was in pretty little ringlets that made a lovely tinkling sound whenever she shook her head. She had wings that were only apparent when she flew and when in flight she might have been mistaken for a butterfly. I played, sang and danced with herand her folk for one spring and most of the summer when I was 5. Of Angels and Fairies

When I was very young I could speak as clearly as any adult. I’m not sure why but I do remember thinking that to talk was the greatest thing. And so some how I learned to talk before I could walk. It got me a lot of attention at first but some people became afraid of me. I’m sure it must’ve seemed weird that a little girl that could barely walk could carry on a conversation. But there you have it I could talk, but mostly I repeated what was said to me, a bit like a parrot. When someone would say, “How are you today?” I learned to say, “FINE, how are YOU today?” It is a bit different but mostly just parroting what they had previously said. In such a way I learned the art of conversation.

My dear granny, my mommy’s mom, taught me verses from the bible. John 3-16 “ For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son. That who so ever believeth in him shall not perish but have everlasting life.” A devout Southern Baptist she would take me to church and all of the people would marvel at my “GIFT”, as they called it. “What a little angel!” they’d say. Granny was so very happy that she read the bible to me every chance she got so I could memorizes its passages.

For Christmas that year I was instructed by my dear granny in the telling of the story of the birth of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Starting First with Matthew 1:1, “ The book of generations of Jesus Christ, conception and birth. Eventually ending with the last verse of granny’s favorite Christmas hymn, “Silent Night”. There was a hush in the chapel as I sang. The lights above the pulpit seemed to twinkle as the star proclaiming his holey birth. As I ended with, “Sleep in heavenly peace,” I placed my hands together as in prayer and bowed gratefully. Granny was very proud of me and everyone said that I sang like an angel!

I admit I was a bit full of myself. At this point I almost believed myself to be the angel that the parishioners proclaimed me to be.

I was four when my father, a devout atheist, decided to put a stop to the whole thing. So one day he taught me some limericks that he had heard at the bar.

“There was a man from Nantucket.

Who went to hell in a bucket.

But when he got there they asked for his fare.

He stuck out his bum and said, SUCK IT!”

I was so pleased to have something new to share with my friends I repeated the limerick as soon as we arrived at the Sunday meeting. Needless to say, granny never took me to church again. I didn’t realize what had happened at the time and thought that granny hated me. I was a very sad little girl after that and would hardly speak to anyone.

I spent most of my time outside in mommy’s garden. Among the lilacs, roses and shrubbery that encircled our yard. It was there I met Violet. She was tiny, purple and smelled like flowers. She had the loveliest soprano voice and she sang with me every day. (Although I cannot remember any of the songs now.) She was fun to play with and I spent all that spring and most of the summer with her.

Every morning I’d wake up at the crack of dawn. I was filled with anticipation for the fun and surprises each new day would bring! I was oh so quiet as I slipped out of my bed and into my clothes. Giggling inside myself, thinking of the wonderful games my tiny purple friend and me would play that day. What joy, what fun and laughter filled my child’s heart!

One day in particular as I tiptoed out of the back door, I found Violet waiting on the stoop of the back porch. “It’s Summer Solstice!” she gleefully announced. “Time for dancing and trouping about the countryside!”

Her sweet little face was all a-flush with excitement and the little curls of her lavender hair seemed to make a lovely tinkling with every gentle breeze.

“Oh my!” I exclaimed. “This will be a fun day!”

We walked into the woods behind our house, and at the foot of a gnarled old oak tree there was what first looked like hundreds of butterflies. Each of them a different color! But as we got closer I could see that they were the same sort of folk as Violet.

It started softly at first, as a faint whisper on the summer breeze. Then the sound grew louder and sweeter. It was a song!

”Rapture of the sun, sing, dance and all have fun!

We rest when the day is done. Oh rapture of the sun.

Definitely NOT winged-although there were some tiny types of faeries in traditional folklore, the idea of wings didn't become really prevalent till the victorian era, where faeries were made into cutesy,twee figures who moralised at naughty children (the Victorians probably actually based them on angels.)

There are hundreds of different kinds of faeries ranging from the man high, almost godlike type to the hideous,lowly, evil and deformed.

I suspect in some cases the more 'human' faeries are either dwindled gods or the vague folk memories of aboriginal peoples whose secretive ways seemed 'magical'.

I agree with the Irish view; I conceive of them as spiritual beings who may have been physical once. I think of them as nature spirits, and they can appear in many forms, not necessarily human-looking. I certainly don't think of them as cute little girls with wings; when I imagine their human form, I imagine someone tall, thin, difficult to see clearly, and insubstantial. I admire the story of the vanished Tuatha Dé Dannan of Ireland, and consider that that is as good an explanation as any, although different lands have different stories about what these spirits are. But similar tales are found all over the world.

I believe that faeries are human but they are tiny and only seen by those that they deem worthy of seeing them. their wings are iridescent,they live in many place. some come out at night while other come out during the day. They are companions for the lost and lonely. That is my view

Blessed Be

Syion

I once dreamed of a fairy. He looked just like any human man, with the exception of his unusually bronze-colored skin, piercing green/silver eyes, and his unique manner of moving (almost in slow motion, but leaving the distinct impression of coiled power and speed). In the dream, he lived in an elaborate network of caves in the side of a sandstone cliff or mountain.

I have seen many, MANY faeries, and they all look totally different. I see the faeries as not a single race, but as all races from the faerie realm. The artist whose faeries look most like the ones I see is Brian Froud. You should look at his work some time.

Butterflies. Moths. Dragonflies. Bees and Hornets. Even house flies and gnats are faeries.

Pretty much anything with pretty wings that flits around and are kinda silly.

Faeries are shapeshifters and tricksters who shape and form changes constantly. Pure energy forms that take on the archetypes we associate with them plus the environment. Wings represent energy flow, eyes deep with wisdom, and sometimes horns for animal and nature connections. Just remember that fey creatures forms are flexible and change frequently.

Like a Mosquito.

like a real person except smaller with wings and bronze skin-heres an really old one- http://www.hoax-slayer.com/images/derbyshire-fairy...