The Boy Who Painted the Sky

There was once a little boy named Christopher who could talk to the fairies.

When he was a tiny, red-faced infant they had perched on the side of his cradle and sung to him. When he was a chubby toddler they had flown before him and encouraged him to take his first wobbly steps. And now he was a fair-haired, laughing little boy they would come and sit on his pillow in the evenings and tell him stories.

Christopher loved the fairies. They were so beautiful and delicate. Their voices sounded like tiny crystal bells and the stories they told were enchanting. Though he tried to tell his friends and family about the fairy visits, they said he must be dreaming. This troubled Christopher until the fairies told him he was a special child.

"Many years ago," said the fairies, "When your great-grandmother's great-grandmother was a child, all human beings and fairies were friends. We helped each other. Fairies showed humans where to find medicinal plants and taught them how to make music. Humans helped fairies by building them sheltered places to live and teaching them how to read and write. The strength and wisdom of humans combined with the beauty and magic of fairies to enhance both our peoples."

"But what happened?" asked Christopher.

"One of our most powerful fairies fell in love with a human," came the answer. "This fairy was called Nivera and her magic was the strongest in seven generations. Unfortunately the human she loved was already in love with someone else. When Nivera realized that his heart belonged to another, her love turned to hate and she jealously resolved that fairies and human-kind should be parted. She worked for years to create a powerful barrier between the fairy kingdom and the human realm. When she finally cast the spell to separate us it was so powerful that it drained all of the colour from the sky."

Christopher looked puzzled. "But the sky has always been gray," he said.

"Not so," laughed the fairies, "The sky was once a beautiful blue. If you could only have seen it! A lovely pale blue on cool mornings, a dark midnight blue at twilight and a brilliant cobalt blue on sunny days. It made you cheerful just to look at it. There was not another sky in the universe that could rival the blue sky of Earth."

"Can't something be done?" cried Christopher. "How I wish someone could make the sky blue again!"

"It can be done," said the fairies. "But only by a human child who is brave and determined and loves beauty. This child must gather four strong sources of blue by performing four good deeds. You are the first child born in the past hundred years who can speak to us. We think you are the child who can colour the sky again."

"I'll do it," said Christopher, "I'll start tomorrow."

"Good luck," said the fairies. "Once the sky is blue and Nivera's spell is broken, humans and fairies can be friends again."

The next morning dawned dull and cloudy. Christopher packed a sandwich into his knapsack and told his parents that he was setting off make the sky blue. "Have fun," they called vaguely, "But come back into the house if it starts raining."

Christopher wandered out the back door into the garden. He hadn't the faintest idea where to begin. He glanced round the familiar garden and noticed a small red door in the garden wall. He had never seen the door before. The fairies must have put it there! Christopher wasted no time. He hurried through the door and shut it behind him.

He found himself in a meadow. A narrow, red dirt path stretched out before him winding its way through the tall grass. Yellow and orange wildflowers danced in the breeze. Christopher was surprised to see the sun shining brightly in the grey sky above. He set out along the path, keeping his eyes open for anything blue.

After he had walked for some distance he reached a gloomy wood. Since the path continued into the trees Christopher went boldly forward. Within a few minutes he came upon a queer little house. It was bright yellow and seemed to be woven out of straw. The house sat in an untidy garden full of tree-stumps which was surrounded by a white picket fence. There was an enormous pile of dirty straw in the back yard. Christopher walked up to the front door and knocked softly. The door was immediately jerked open by a large peacock.

"What do you want?" the peacock said rudely.

Christopher took a moment to answer. He was busy admiring the peacock's glossy blue feathers. "I'm sorry to bother you," he stammered, "But I am looking for beautiful blue objects to help colour the sky again. I really like your blue feathers," he added.

The peacock was a vain creature and he preened himself at this flattery.

"I suppose you want some of them," he said. "Well you'll have to do me a favour in return. Last week when the maid was making my bed, she threw away my favourite gold ankle bracelet with the dirty straw. She looked all day but couldn't find it. If you can find the bracelet I will give you a bag of my best blue feathers."

Christopher gulped as he remembered the huge pile of dirty straw in the yard. But he agreed to the peacock's condition. He went behind the cottage and started sorting the dusty straw into smaller piles. He had to work slowly because a gold chain was easy to miss among a pile of gold coloured straw. He grew hot, dirty and tired as the time wore on. But just as he was sorting the last pile of straw, he felt something bumpy in his fingers. The missing ankle bracelet! He ran to the front door eager to claim his reward.

The peacock was very pleased. He had not really expected his chain to be recovered. He ruffled himself up as vigorously as he could and shook out a flurry of feathers. Then Christopher stuffed a little black velvet bag full of the most iridescent blue feathers. Christopher thanked the peacock and set off again.

The little boy felt quite dusty from his exertions with the pile of dirty straw. He grew even hotter and thirstier as he trudged along the path. He continued through the woods and started climbing a steep rocky slope on the other side. Eventually he reached a plateau and found that the path ended at the edge of a large lake. Christopher threw off his dusty clothes and waded into the lake. He had a grand time splashing in the lake and drinking the clean water. Then he dressed himself and sat down to eat his sandwich.

It was only after his hunger and thirst were satisfied that Christopher noticed the colour of the lake. It was a deep indigo blue, very still and calm. Christopher walked over to the edge of the water and knelt down. "Oh, lake," he called. "I have travelled a long way seeking beautiful blue objects so that I can colour the sky again. Would you help me? Could you give me some of your lovely blue water?"

A deep, sleepy voice answered Christopher. It came from the depths of the lake. "I can help you little boy," said the voice, "But first you must help me. At the top of the hill there is a spring of sweet, sparkling water. Out of the spring comes a little stream which used to splash down the rocks to play at my side. But alas, I quarrelled with the stream last year and she turned her back on me. Now she runs down the other side of the hill. I have no way to apologize to the stream unless you go and tell her that I was wrong."

Christopher told the lake that he would be happy to help. He put on his knapsack and began trudging up the hillside. The climb was rough and rocky. Christopher bruised his feet on the sharp stones. Once he tripped and grazed his elbow. It took a long time to reach the summit. When he finally reached the top, Christopher sat down on a boulder to catch his breath.

Once he had rested, the boy found the little stream splashing down the far side of the hill. He delivered the lake's message and began to climb back down to the plateau. Before he had gone halfway down the hill the stream joined him. It foamed and danced between the rocks, showing Christopher the easiest ways to get back down the slope. At the bottom of the hill, the little stream plunged into the lake.

The lake was very grateful to Christopher. It cast a small, golden bottle onto the shore. "Take this bottle. It contains dark blue water from my deepest parts," said the lake. As Christopher picked up the flask and put it into his knapsack he noticed that the lake was now a slightly paler shade of blue.

"That's two blue objects," thought Christopher to himself, "And two more to go. Now, where shall I look next?" He scanned the horizon from the plateau. Far to the west he could see the tall spires of a castle. Christopher decided to head in that direction. "Perhaps they will invite me in for tea," he thought.

Since he was no longer following the path Christopher had a difficult time heading toward the castle. There were thorn bushes which snagged his clothing and large puddles to wade through. The ground beneath him began to get soft and oozy. Pools of brackish water appeared on either side of him. He passed black dead trees with grey moss hanging from their limbs.

But just as his surroundings could get no more bleak and dirty, Christopher clambered over a small rise and found himself in a field of blue irises. Thousands and thousands of gorgeous azure blooms danced and nodded in a field surrounding a small stone cottage. Christopher decided to ask the owner of the cottage for a bunch of flowers.

He ran up to the front door and knocked. "Who's there?" came a voice from behind the cottage. "Come back and show yourself."

Christopher walked round to the back garden and found himself face to face with a shaggy brown pony. The pony's mane was tangled and snarled and hung over its eyes. Its tail was matted and full of burrs.

"Goodness," said Christopher, "That doesn't look very comfortable. Would you like me to help you comb out those burrs?"

"Yes please," said the pony. "I can't manage it with my hooves. Usually young Martha comes over to help me. But Martha has gone away to live with her aunt for the summer and I am in a dreadful state without her. There is a comb in the cottage, just beside the door."

Christopher fetched the comb and began carefully untangling the pony's mane and tail. The job was tedious but Christopher felt sorry for the poor pony and was happy to help. He gingerly pulled burrs, grass, leaves and twigs from the pony's hair. He also found a tiny golden key attached to a fine black thread which had somehow become tangled in the pony's tail.

"Is this your key?" said Christopher, showing it to the pony.

"I've never seen it before," said the pony. "You're welcome to keep it if you like."

Christopher put the key in his pocket and resumed combing. While he worked he told the pony about his quest to find blue objects and his adventures so far. When the job was finally done, the pony was almost unrecognizable. His large brown eyes could be seen twinkling with good spirits and his glossy mane and tail tossed in the wind as he galloped joyfully around the yard.

"Now, how can I help you?" said the pony, when he had finished his run.

" I wanted to ask the owner of this cottage if I could have a bunch of those beautiful blue irises," said Christopher.

"You are in luck," said the pony. "My name is Fiagro. I own the cottage and I own the flowers. They are magical flowers that stay fresh two months after they are picked. The Princess Sarah herself comes here each spring to pick irises for the palace."

"The palace," cried Christopher, "That's where I was going next."

"It's a long rough walk for a little fellow," said the pony. "Gather some flowers and then I'll give you a ride to the palace on my back."

Christopher picked a large bunch of blue irises and tied them to his knapsack. Then he climbed onto the pony's back and they set off for the palace.

Christopher had never ridden a horse before and he found the ride quite rough and bumpy. They passed through the swamp and over a succession of small hills. Fiagro jogged along quickly and after an hour they were within sight of the castle gates. A brown-haired girl in a pink dress was playing hopscotch beside the castle wall.

"It's the Princess Sarah," said Fiagro. "Hello Sarah!" he called. "Here's a guest for you."

The Princess dashed over to meet them. "Hello Fiagro," she said. " Who's your friend?"

"My name is Christopher," said the boy. "I have travelled a long way looking for beautiful blue objects to help colour the sky."

"You look hungry," said the Princess. "You'd better come in and have tea with Mummy and me."

Christopher hugged Fiagro goodbye and then followed the Princess through the castle gates. The Princess led him down a confusing maze of corridors and into a magnificent parlour. The floor was made of shiny green marble. The walls were made of grey marble and covered with thick woollen tapestries. A large mahogany table was heaped with cakes, cookies, sandwiches and buns. Four leather armchairs surrounded the table and a cheerful blaze crackled in the fireplace.

"Sit down and make yourself at home," Sarah said comfortably. "Mummy will be here soon and you can tell us about your quest." She pulled up a chair and helped herself to a slice of caramel cake.

Christopher was starving and he wasted no time. He sat down at the table took a sandwich in one hand and a cookie in the other. The door opened and a tall woman in a violet dress entered the parlour. She wore a slim golden band around her grey hair. Her beautiful grey eyes looked troubled but the Queen greeted Christopher cordially.

"Didn't you find it yet, Mummy?" asked Princess Sarah sympathetically. "My father is away this year on a dragon hunt," she explained to Christopher. "He left Mummy an enchanted music box which plays her favourite tune every evening to let us know he is safe. Three days ago, the key to the music box disappeared from Mummy's dressing table. The window was open and we are afraid that a magpie might have stolen it."

"A key?" asked Christopher. "I found a key today when I was combing Fiagro's tail." He produced the little gold key from his pocket and showed it to the Queen.

The Queen snatched the key with a gasp of delight. She took a small jewelled box from her pocket, inserted the key in its side and wound it up. The box sprang open and a tinkling little melody began to play. The Queen blinked away tears of relief. "He's safe," she sighed.

Princess Sarah looked relieved also. "You are a clever thing Christopher," she said. She passed him a bowl of custard and another plate of cookies.

The Queen turned her attention to her guest. She looked much happier. "How can I thank you for returning my key?" she asked.

Christopher told the story of the fairies and his adventures. "I just need one more strong source of blue," he said, "And I must do one more good deed."

"You have already done our good deed for us," said the Queen gently. She rang for the butler. "Fetch me the Sunrise Necklace please, " she ordered.

The butler returned shortly with a small wooden box. The Queen took the box and put it in Christopher's sticky hands. Christopher opened the box and gasped. Nestled on a cushion of white velvet was a necklace of brilliant blue sapphires set in white gold. The clasp of the necklace was of ruby and amber.

"Take this necklace to your fairies," said the Queen. "What you have returned to me is more precious than all the treasure in my kingdom."

Christopher thanked the Queen. He could hardly believe his luck. He took the necklace and put it into his knapsack. As he fastened it he suddenly heard familiar little voices. "Christopher," the fairies said, "Your task is almost done. Meet us at the top of the highest tower in the castle."

"I'll be as quick as I can," Christopher replied.

Princess Sarah and her mother were looking at Christopher strangely. "Can you take me to the highest point in the castle?" asked Christopher. "The fairies are calling to me."

Sarah led Christopher out of the parlour and along another series of dim passageways. They passed through a heavy bronze door and began to climb the stone steps up to the castle tower. When they reached the top, Christopher turned to Sarah.

"Thank you for the wonderful tea," he said. "Perhaps I'll come and visit you again one day."

"I'd like that," said Sarah. "Fiagro would too."

Christopher looked out of the tower window. A glowing ball of light was approaching from the south. As it grew closer Christopher saw a silver chariot drawn by eight white swans. When the swans flew by the window, Christopher felt a queer sensation in his stomach and he suddenly found himself sitting in the chariot. Groups of fairies flew beside the chariot and clung to the necks of the swans.

"Well done Christopher," said the fairies. "Now you must take the treasures you have gathered and paint the sky with them."

The chariot veered upwards and Christopher fumbled for his knapsack. "First the feathers," said the fairies.

Christopher opened the velvet bag and drew out a handful of peacock feathers. "Cast them into the wind," cried the fairies. He hung his arm over the side of the chariot and slowly opened his fingers. The feathers blew away in the wind. As Christopher watched in excitement, they grew bigger and bigger. Large blue feathery shapes now made patches over the grey sky. Christopher quickly emptied the whole bag.

"Now the flowers," said the fairies. Christopher untied the bunch of blue irises from his knapsack. One by one, he pulled off the frilly blue petals and cast them over the side of the chariot. The petals also blew away in the wind and grew larger and larger. Blue petal shapes now joined the feather shapes, covering most of the grey in the sky.

"Now the water, " said the fairies. "Paint the sky with it!" Christopher looked down and was startled to find a delicate golden paintbrush in his hand. The brush had bristles of softest swan's-down. Christopher reached into his knapsack and pulled out the golden flask. He dipped the paintbrush into the flask and drew it out. The flask was now empty and the bristles of the brush were a deep shining blue.

Christopher leaned over the side of the chariot and began to touch the remaining grey portions of the sky with the paintbrush. As the brush pointed at each grey patch it was quickly covered with beautiful blue colour. The fairies cheered! Christopher's face glowed with excitement. What a wonderful feeling it was to paint the sky!

When all the grey patches were covered, Christopher drew the necklace from his knapsack and removed it from the box. "Throw it into the sun," called the fairies.

The chariot streaked toward the west and Christopher stood up. He threw the necklace as hard as he could into the setting sun. The jewels glowed as they tumbled through the sky. The sapphire, amber and ruby gems covered the sky at the edge of the horizon. Christopher gasped with delight.

"Those colours will stay with the sun as the earth turns," said the fairies. "Whenever the sun rises and sets, pink, red, orange and yellow light will adorn the horizon."

The swans pulled the silver chariot through the beautiful sky until it reached Christopher's house. They landed in his garden.

"And now, the sky is blue again and the spell is broken. We will always be grateful to you Christopher," said the fairies.

Christopher's parents ran out to greet him. They were proud and excited to hear about their son's adventure. And it was wonderful for Christopher to finally introduce the fairies to his family.

From that day on fairies and humans were no longer divided. Children and adults everywhere became friends with fairy folk and magic and mystery were free to inhabit the world. Christopher grew up, got married and had children of his own. Occasionally he would journey to the palace to visit his friends Princess Sarah and Fiagro.

The sky was always a pure, steadfast blue and people eventually forgot that it had ever been a different colour. Indeed, people forgot that a small boy named Christopher had once set out to change the world.

But the fairies didn't forget. They were forever thankful for the boy who had painted the sky.