Participated in an online competition November 2020
The Time Thief
The datura fairy hides within the flowing skirts of white and purple. At once shy and curious, she watches humans marvel at her bountiful flowers. She may be sweet but be careful, she induces amnesia, steals memories, from unsuspecting souls. She listens to the many names they give her: tolohuaxihuitl, toloache, hell’s bells, devil’s trumpet.
The malevolent images in her name warn others of her toxins. Because to humans, a thief of memories takes with her not just these precious thoughts, but identity, community, time itself. Without memories, humans become frightful, anxious, lost. Like the slippery sand in an hourglass, stolen time trickles down into nothingness. The datura soaks in memories within her and for this, humans fear her and call her names.
But look carefully at her roots. They dig deep into the Earth, far deeper than humans can reach. Here are her stolen treasures, down where time will turn these memories into diamonds. For she is not stealing them, she is keeping them, allowing them to strengthen, crystallize. They will be returned when the time is right. From humans to plants to the earth, time and memory flow endlessly, never created nor destroyed.
“…and once again she shuddered with the evidence that time was not passing, as she had just admitted, but that it was turning in a circle.” – García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude
Rainbow Painted Smiles 