Cottingley Fae doll by conscience
of DemonKidz Dollworks
."The Cottingley Fae" is a soft vinyl, 9 inch, one of a kind customized doll from DemonKidz Dollworks.
She has been handpainted from head to toe using heat set mediums and stains to bring an ordinary child's baby doll to life. She has handrooted hair of auburn wool, striking handpainted emerald green eyes and hand made wings of Fantasy Film, glitter and specialty paints, sealed with high gloss varnish.
The Cottlingley Fae's clothing is handmade and consists of: Underskirt of antiqued cheesecloth, dusky green fabric skirt, gold tone bells, copper wire armband and copper wire headband embellished with yellow and green seed beads - topped with a jagged amethyst crystal.
The Cottingley Fae will go to her new home as pictured, along with her special Certificate of Authenticity signed and dated by the artist. She is guaranteed to be a One of a Kind doll, never to be reproduced! Click here to bid
We did not know what a camera was, this silly box the girls brought with them. Human children have many odd little devices around them. How can a faerie keep track of them all, and why should we bother? They flit by like wingblinks, little mortal lives...
We did not know what it was, only that it was a new toy. So we cavorted with the children as usual, teasing and dancing and placing wee little hexes that surely would not expose us, simply trip the children up. It was we who were tripped up, though. This little troop of us that were staying at Cottingley that summer.
Damn those girls to stinking, shrieking hells. Damn them and their miserable little box.
They exposed us. Exposed us to the world, presented proof of our existence.
And all the wrath of Faerie came down upon our innocent, ignorant heads.
We were able to curse them just once before our punishment took hold - cursed one to never believe the evidence of her own eyes and ears, and therefore recant, deny our existence, present excuses, reasoning - create doubt.
The other? We cursed her with loyalty. Sealed her steadfast to her friend. Gave her a lifetime of struggling to help the other girl accept truth.
You do not know the weight of faerie punishments.
Here is truth: You all know us when you are young. You know us as faeries, or invisible friends, or elementals. You are our playmates, our constant friends.
And then you age and, in aging, you forget. You forget everything, bit by bit.
This is the way of things; this is how it has always been. Bosom friends for a season, then a lifetime of awful blindness.
We are mortal, now. Still winged. But without our magic. And, after a century, certainly no longer beautiful. We still live in the grottoes, the trees, gnarled and broken and wrinkled and decaying and foul and feral. And we are forgetting. We are forgetting faerie ways. We are forgetting the language of the birds. Bit by bit. Slow agony of blindness and ignorance.
I know the night sings, but I can no longer hear it.
Do not come to Cottingley. Do not come to the bottom of your garden. We may no longer have magic. But there are things we have learned to do.-------------SPONSOR ME
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