"Amazing Grace" by Anne Lee Zimmerman

    Once upon a time, there were eleven children. They were destined to be enchanters someday, and they were their family’s hope to change the world. 
    The two oldest were the forerunners, like the two dog stars. Sons of Texas, they grew up strong and tall, and they were already like linden trees, reaching up towards the sun, by the time that the youngest of the eleven was born. By the time that the youngest learned to walk, they were already out in the world, changing it a little at a time. By the time that the youngest could remember them, they were already famous in their own right, protectors of their family. 
    After them came the trio, the thundering herd, and all three were consecrated to God and reflected Him like a mirror and bore Him in their hearts. Two boys and one girl, they grew up among the mountains, and as they grew, the mountains started to come down, torn down by people who didn’t know beauty and whose gods were their bellies. The three children were the ones who understood the world, and met it with a bare face. The girl, especially, ran with the others and taught them how to walk in the world. The eleven often found the world to be a frightening place without guidance, so different from the way they knew things were supposed to be.
    After them, two more siblings, a boy and a girl came through. They were the river folk, playful like otters, knowing like weeping willows, so different from the craggy earth of the rest of the family that they didn’t often mix, but when they did, wonder works resulted. The boy of that family was the heir, the preserver of the name. The girl was a flower, a rose, growing among her family, and when she finally bloomed, it was worth the wait. She became a joy to her family.
    The ones that I know most about, however, are the last four. Two were the enchanters’ children, and two were the ones that they loved. The four grew together, and eternal bonds of friendship were forged. The oldest was called the crowned one. He knew that he was set aside for great things, and he took this to his heart. Therefore, many found him prideful, before they got to know him. He had stolen all of his pride from his sister, who had none. She was, to the two younger ones, a storyteller, transforming the one-floor house into a castle or a pirate vessel or a zoo, as it suited her fancy. Her heart was pure, and her mind was strong. 
    The two other children were as alike as two peas in a pod, despite the fact that the difference in years between them was the same as the one between Crowned and Pure. The older of the two was the listener. She thought that it was best to sit and understand, and she followed the Crowned One and loved him like an older brother because of her understanding of his heart. The other was the youngest of the family, and everyone adored her, even though she sometimes resented being characterized as “cute.” She was also named pure, as the enchantress who had carried that name lay dying even as she was being born. The new pure seemed to give new life to the enchantress, however, and she lived to see the newest flower in her garden grow. The child fell in love with the storyteller, and she was the one she followed.
    The listener wanted nothing more than to be loved by the new child, but often she spent so much time looking to others that she forgot how she herself should be. The new one’s strong mind hated her for that, and so the listener was always like the nymph Echo, hovering, half-faded, in the background, giving gifts and waiting for the day that the new-one would say “I love you,” so she could echo it back. 
    There were many arguments among the four, but there was also harmony living among them, and as they grew, they became more complementary. They acted out the stories the storyteller and the crowned one told. Here is one of them:
    The Crowned One is the winter fairy. The storyteller is the autumn fairy. The listener is the summer fairy. The little one is the spring fairy. (there followed a great deal of argument about parts, including the Crowned One flat-out refusing to play a fairy. The two younger ones fairly oozed charm, and he finally gave in and allowed himself to be dressed in all black, with a pale blue blanket tied around his neck for a cape, so he could flourish it evilly.)
    Once upon a time the winter fairy refused to relinquish his hold over the whole world. It stayed frozen for a hundred years, and things were dying of starvation and calling out to the fairies of spring, summer, and autumn to come to their aid and do their job to end winter. The truth was, it was not winter’s fault that he had stayed so long. He hated all the other fairies with a cold hatred, except for Spring. On the first year of the century-long winter, he had waited with anticipation for his time to see the beautiful Spring, but she never came, and his heart, which had been the only thing that was still of flesh and blood and not of ice, broke with the anguish. To save himself, he froze it and kept the world in a frozen state, since he now hated absolutely everything that existed, including Spring. Autumn and Summer continued to sleep, since they were used to being awoken by Spring. Finally, however, the cries of the starving people came to the ears of Autumn. She looked around, and it was still winter, but it came to her attention that it had been winter far too long. She woke up Summer, and they decided together that Winter had to be stopped. 
    They went together to his castle made of ice. There, they battled winter, but they were both too weak for him. And it didn’t take long until they were both subdued and thrust into cages made of icicles somewhere. The wailing increased when the people heard what had happened. 
Then a figure shrouded in a blanket (no cloaks available) came to the gate of the winter fairy. No one seemed to be able to see her, and she passed through unhindered, all the way up to his throne room, where Winter sat insulting Summer and Autumn, for lack of anything more interesting to do.         The stranger, under the eyes of winter, touched the cages and they melted. Summer and Autumn leaped to their feet and thanked the stranger profusely for their rescue.
    “Hey, who do you think you are, coming in here and letting my prisoners free?” Winter tried to make his eyes blaze with anger, but since the storybooks are never really clear about what exactly blazing eyes look like, the Crowned One only looked bemused. Summer and Autumn huddled in a corner and tried not to laugh. 
    The stranger took off the cloak.
    “Spring!” all three said at once. Winter sent another anger-blaze the way of the former prisoners. 
    “It’s time you let the world go, Winter. I was away for a time, but your refusal to give in to the other seasons shows your stubbornness. The world needs to thaw again.”
    Winter snarled and hurled some magic at Spring (tinsel), but it widely missed her.
    “You wouldn’t hurt me, Winter. You know that.”
    “That’s not true. You broke my heart and I hate you for it.”
    “The heart itself mends in time, but you froze yours, and you are more cruel than ever.”
    “Go away.”
    Spring kissed him (on the cheek, another post-argument stipulation). Fireworks filled the air (confetti, thrown by Autumn and Summer) and the world thawed (shown by un-draping the furniture and tossing fake flowers through the air). And for the evening, the house was at peace, because Spring had thawed the Crowned One’s heart without him realizing that it was more than a play.