pixie dust - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Pixie dust hung low in the air while they all dove through it, elixir at last. Soon the pixies spun through the air, their flight fully restored. In the cool dusky air they were little more than blurs in the golden sparkles that reflected the last of the rays. The air smelled of apricots they way it always did when the pixie dust was released. A cloud this large took a month for the magical tree to produce, so when it finally came the pixies needed no more excuse for a party. The night was young, hours of mischief lay ahead.
The pixies threw a dust into the air. Unlike confetti or glitter, gravity had no way to make it fall. The pixie dust swirled in the air above, a glorious cloud. As they swirled their limbs, it swirled too, changing its colours with the rhythm of a beating heart.
From the tree above came a trail of golden dust, "Pixie dust!" squealed Inky. Moments later the clan had arrived, the tree was ready to bless them. From the pixie dust tree came her deep song and they replied with heartfelt devotion. As the air grew thick with the golden dust their feet left the soil and they soared into the autumn sky to play amid the clouds. As each particle touched their skin it gave them a tingle of energy that soaked right into the core of their bones. Their wings vibrated all the faster and their lust for mischief grew.
You humans speak of our pixie dust, spreading rumours of our source. You know nothing. You humans speak of our lore, but the words of our kin are not for your ears. You men so tall of stature and small of joy, cannot be taught, cannot learn. You know of love and joy, but in such small measure that the rest of your being is filled with emotions we cast aside many centuries ago. Why hold onto hate when you can vibrate with the energy of mother earth? Why be so violent? Our ways are song, dance and storytelling. We joke, laugh and make merry. Our pixie dust is our own, for in your hands this wondrous beauty would only accelerate your evil deeds. For it is a form of power and we know how that affects you, twists you. So we say for your own sakes, humans, do not learn of our dust. Fuel for one is poison for another. Our worst is mischief, yours we have no words for.
The pixies buzzed around the cloud with outstretched fingers. Their skin glowed as the magic from the pixie dust entered their blood streams. Under the moonlight they moved more like a shoal of fish than a flock of birds, one fluid motion of dozens of pixies.
She took just a pinch of the pixie dust and sprinkled it onto her wings. then quickly she took hold of the grounding bar, tensing her fingers to keep her from flying off in a chaotic fashion. The dust didn't effect everyone like it did her, for her it was instant overload as all of her her synapses fired at once. A few seconds later she could release her grip and soar into the midnight winds, ready to play her jokes on the towns folk nearby.
Inhaling the pixie dust made Izzy choke every time. While the others lit up with glee she doubled over and wheezed under the spreading oak. When finally she was full of magic to the tips of her ears she fled to clear air. At first her friends teased her, jokingly, the way pixies do. But Izzy always seemed to get more power from the dust than any of them...
Pixie dust was nothing like sand, between her finger pads it was silky and the way it shimmered made it look alive. No matter the temperature of the day, the magical powder was cool, as if it was apart from the environment. The lore said that the pixie dust sat in a realm of its own so as to control the creatures who could access it. The men of mud did not believe in the realm of the spirit guardians and so it was kept from their grasp.