When we were kids Grandma told us she kept fairy dust in the jar on the window sill. She said the lid was sealed with magic so only she could open it. We’d stand and stare at it for hours.
Whenever we stayed, she’d sprinkle a little in our warm milk to help us sleep. Once, I fell out of a tree and cut my knee. She rubbed in some fairy dust and it stopped bleeding straight away.
When Grandma died we put her ashes in the jar hoping her fairy dust would bring her back to life.
A 100-word story for Friday Fictioneers.
Picture courtesy of Janet Webb.