The world is at peace.

A child – roughly around 2 years old – glanced out the window at the swirling sparks of white outside of the window. The picture book that she had been looking at slumped to the ground, its pages fluttering gently. The took no notice of it, simply gazing, mesmerized by the drifting flakes of snow, covering the village in a soft white blanket.

This is the land of the Clumsies.

Children of her age would normally be giggling with glee, but this particular child was different; she had yet to release her first laugh. A fairy was still waiting inside her, yet to be born. The laugh was beginning to get tired of waiting.

“So this is your youngest child?” Two women wandered into the room, their heels clattering loudly against the oak floors.

“My, she’s so silent! Melanie was very active at her age!”

“Yes,” the second woman agreed quietly. “My eldest daughter is much more outgoing. It’s expected of someone of her age and caste.”

The child paid them no attention, watching snow settle on the stone houses of the village. She shifted uncomfortably in her long, green taffeta dress. She glued her eyes to the dizzying pattern on the fabric. Personally, she had preferred something simpler, but her mother had insisted and she was in no position to object.

Silently sighing, she zoned back in on the conversation of the two women, who were still in the room, unaware of the presence of the child in question.

“Mira has barely spoken and she is just reaching three years. Is this normal?” fretted the child – Mira’s – mother. She walked over to a frosted French-style window on the other end of the room and peered out at the serenity of the softly tumbling snowflakes.

“This child just seems to stubborn to smile, doesn’t she?” sighed her aunt. “Does anything seem to make her happy?”

“Smiles are very rare,” was the response. “She’s a melancholic child.”

At this point, Mira was beginning to tire of the conversation. She turned her attention back to the picture book in her lap. Slowly, she turned the delicate pages, staring at the images with depth that seemed odd for her age.

For what seemed like hours, Mira sat in the plush, stiff-backed seat, keeping her mind on the book. She had understood what the two women were trying to say and was trying her best to push it out of her mind. She couldn’t seem to though.

Mira knew full well that she was what her mother called a “melancholy child”. She knew that her family thought she was a disappointment. She knew it all, yet she found she couldn’t do anything about it.

Most of her life had been trapped in the stone mansion. In those few times she had been out, it had been all business, often with stern-faced adults who tried to shoo her away.

Mira watched, mesmerized at the dance of the snowflakes before her. The frosty, magical outside world was right there, and she could almost touch it.

She pressed her nose against the glass. Only a few moments later, she felt herself getting picked up and guided out. They reached the foyer when Mira’s heart began to quicken.

Outside… Yes. This just may be the time. 

Her feet seemed to move on her own, itching to reach the outside, to join the snowflakes on their journey. She stepped out.

She twirled around in circles, her green taffeta splaying out around her body. She raises her arms as if drinking the sky.

The cold, ink black seems welcoming, doesn’t it, sprinkled with shimmering lights.

And the snowflakes danced.

One landed on her nose, which made her gasp from the sudden frozen bitten sensation. Mira squeaked, losing her balance and falling backwards, into the soft snow bank.

She collapsed into the snow’s cold arms. Laying down, she stared up at the inky blackness. The frozen white bit at her bare skin, but she didn’t care. It was almost as if the cold was warming her, inviting her to stay there just a little longer. She acquiesced. The white twinkling lights from above seemed to be smiling at her.

Mira decided she would smile back.

Her lips curved upwards into an unfamiliar position. They parted almost automatically; she opened her mouth to let out a laugh, a soft tinkling laugh that sounded like bells.

That wasn’t so bad, was it?

A fine misty figure rose out, rising over her head. It watched her petite figure, laying on the snow; dark curls splayed out, framing her delicate, doll-like face, snowflakes balancing on her eyelashes.

Somewhere in Mira’s concious, she reached the conclusion that it was a laugh. So this is the voice that was always in my head, she thought. It was the voice that constantly echoed in her head, like a dying bell. It was finally gone.

She didn’t know if she would miss it.

The laugh briefly flickered gold, taking the shape of a fairy. It winked, and beckoned at Mira to stand. Her eyes were huge as she rose to her feet.

I was there the whole time. I’ve been watching over you. But now it’s time for us to part. 

The laugh, now ringed with gold, rose up into the sky. It floated off on its journey. It was a journey Mira had no way of knowing about, but she figured the laugh would be okay. She watched the gold spark drift off into the horizon. It dissolved into the stars.

Mira’s eyes caught a glimpse of herself in the window; flakes of white in her dark hair, on her dress, on her boots. The light dusting on her body was uncomely, as her mother would say. She knew that her mother would be out any minute now and she would most likely be scolded for such unladylike behaviour.

But the breath-taking beauty of the night sky seemed to oppose the thoughts. It’s enjoyable, the stars seemed to say. Let loose and have fun.

Mira closed her eyes. She could almost feel her body lightening, shedding pounds and lifting herself higher and higher in the air, as an astral body. She could sense that flight was almost at her grasp.

She opened her grey eyes, reflecting the light of the moon. I probably shouldn’t even be surprised I’m still lying in the snow, Mira told herself.

She couldn’t quite explain why it made her laugh.


Author’s Notes

I decided to put this story in parts so there would be time for me to really ramble. For those who know me, you know that I do love a good ramble. Actually, I put it in parts so I’d have the chance to dissect everything until it can no longer be dissected.

I wanted to explore a little of what would happen to a child who hasn’t laughed. Well, Mira was a small example of that. Perhaps it will be an idea I’ll explore later on..

Next part, our laugh will be on it’s way to Neverland! This part may be shorter but I don’t know how the overall breakdown will go… Eh, we’ll see c:

What do you think of the story so far? Thoughts or suggestions? Leave me a comment to let me know what you think! ♪



16 thoughts on “Laugh

  1. Wow, a wonderful style of writing, very different to mine – yours is more delicate, and in depth. You are really good at describing things. It inspires me to keep writing my own! 🙂


    1. Thank you Rose! It’s great to know that you like it – the fact that it inspires you just makes me so happy. That was actually the initial reason that my blog is called what it is 🙂
      Actually, I’ve been told I write too much 😛



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