Fairies of the North: Part 3.

by Bear Hunter

Where I last left off, my good friend Paradox was deep into his journey into the “Torngat Mountains” in the north of Labrador, Canada.  He was determined to unlock whatever secrets lay within the mysterious land.  A harsh fall onto rock left the hefty explorer with a concussion, soiled snow pants and a brutal lack of sleep.  The loss of his tent in massive snow storm left Paradox with only one option, find shelter.

A sing-song hum pierced its way through the blizzard as Paradox fought his way through the wall of moving snow.  His head pounded, his backpack weighed down on his shoulders, and the smell of his pants had reach the level of eight-month-dead skunk roadkill.

He knew he had to reach some kind of shelter or he was done for.  The problem was, he had no idea where he was going.  The only thing he could think to do was to follow the song of the hum.  With every passing moment it became increasingly more melodic.  Paradox believes that when we find ourselves in our greatest peril that the spirits of the land will hear our pleas and provide us with guidance.  I believe that people hear things when they get their heads bashed in and can’t sleep for two days.  To each their own I suppose.

What Paradox described to me next about his journey I didn’t believe at first… no sane person would.  He said in his own words, “The snow flakes began to twinkle like diamonds and dance in unison like a school of fish.”

I replied, “Are you sure you weren’t dying?”

“Maybe I was.  Maybe it was at the brink of death when they found me.”

That shut me up.

As Paradox approached the “dancing” snowflakes they began to spin and disperse outwards creating an opening.  A tunnel formed before his eyes.  As he walked through the tunnelled the semi-solid walls of falling snow wavered and shifted.  A bright light shone at the end of the tunnel beckoning Paradox to follow.

I asked him again, “Are you sure you weren’t dying?”

“Shush” he replied, and he continued with his tale.

He then heard the song – no longer a hum – as clear as day.  It was the most enchanting song he had ever heard.  Hundreds of tiny voices singing in unison.  As he reached the end of the tunnel Paradox could see the tunnel expand into a massive sphere.  The storm fed into the membrane of the sphere but never penetrated it.  Paradox described it as a massive “inside-out snow globe”.

Within the shifting globe hundreds of tiny lights danced.  They glowed in all the colours of the rainbow.  A blue light descended down onto Paradox’s shivering hand.  The light from the creature warmed his near frost-bitten hand.  As Paradox’s eyes adjusted he could see that the light was in actuality a tiny little naked blue man the size of an X-Men action figure.  The tiny man had small intricate wings that Paradox described as having incredible tensile strength.  Paradox couldn’t pronounce the small fairy’s name so he refers to him as Jim.

Paradox sat on a rock and spoke with Jim for over an hour.  Paradox asked him about his culture and Jim asked Paradox all about the X-Men.  Apparently comic book characters are more interesting than actual people.  Time passed as Paradox spoke with the a couple dozen of the fairies, some male and others female.  He told me, “The fairies were the most gracious of people, the men offered me strange ice candies, they taught me their song and some of the females were very polite when turning down my sexual advances.”

Why exactly – you might ask – when half dead and lost in the arctic would Paradox make sexual advances on tiny fairy people?  “An opportunity is an opportunity.” was Paradox’s answer to that question.  Lucky for all of us and all of them, none of them took the bait.

True to his word, Paradox was not one to waste an opportunity.  As the fairies danced and told their tales he took out his old 35mm camera.  He slipped on an ND filter and a polarization filter – he couldn’t afford any burnout – and he started to click.  The fairies had no idea what a camera was.  They apparently assumed that it was a bigger eye that Paradox was using to see them better.  They had no idea that their images were being captured.

The sweetness of the song, the warmth of the light, the hypnotic sway of the dance, and the lack of sleep took ahold.  Paradox drifted into the sweetest slumber of his life.  When he awoke the next day the sun was shining, his headache was gone and his pants no longer smelled.  All was good except for Paradox’s claim that $100 was missing from his wallet.  Funny thing about Paradox, no matter what story he tells – no matter how positive – he somehow has to be victimized in the end… I don’t understand it.

He could barely believe it had happened himself.  It was the photos he took that kept him a believer.  Perfectly clear and crisp images of the Fairies of the North.  He has entrusted me with the images – I cried myself to sleep one night while looking at them – and I will never reveal them.  One day Paradox may feel the need to share them with the world… I hope his does one day.

I’ve never seen the man happier and his journeys inspire me to put more effort into my own explorations.  I might even join him on one of his expeditions one day.  That would be cool.

– Bear Hunter

 

Not one of Paradox's photos.  A nice image though.

Not one of Paradox’s photos. A nice image though.

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