A Pixie Ghost Story

A lone campfire lit up a small alcove of trees. Well, not exactly a campfire, more of a tiny burning match, but to Troop 7631, it was a giant bonfire. Most likely because Troop 7631 was a pixie Troop. Grinelda, the Troop’s leader, looked at the tiny yawning faces of the pixie girls left in her care for the week.

“Ok guys, just one more story, then it’s off to your tents. Who wants to go next?” She asked.

“It’s my turn Neldie!” Wendlyn called out. She was the tiniest of all the pixies, most of the other girls called her Runt, and she was the victim of constant ridicule.

Many of the other pixies laughed. “What would you know about ghost stories Runt! You’ll probably piss yourself because of your own story!” one called out.

Wendlyn ruffled her wings, “I said it’s my turn! And I’m taking it, so shut your pollen-filled mouth! Now, this is the story of a haunted fly swatter!
There was a small human child who knew of the existence of pixies, but no one believed him. So he bought himself a flyswatter and would sit all the daylong on his front porch with his little flyswatter trying to smack the pixies that would come to mock him.

One day the rains came, and the little boy’s mother called for him to go inside, but he refused, sitting still with his little flyswatter, in hopes that this would be the day that he got himself a pixie. Because of the cold of the rain the boy quickly grew sick, but he still refused to go inside with his mother. As the boy’s illness grew, he would grip his flyswatter tighter and smack at anything that came close to him. But the pixies were still too quick for him to swat.

Finally the boy’s illness took him, and the local pixies felt that they were safe from the flyswatter, though they felt very sad for the boy’s mother who cried the whole day long because of her lost child. She would not throw the flyswatter away because of how precious it was to her son, so she left it sitting on his favorite chair on the front porch. Some of the younger pixies thought it would be funny to come and sit on the flyswatter. Three little pixies, about our age, went to sit on the flyswatter that the little boy used to try and swat at them with. As soon as they landed the flyswatter flip over and squished them all!

Pretty soon they’re parents became worried about their little ones and decided to go and check at the flyswatter. As soon as they got close enough to see their little squished children, the flyswatter rose and squished them all. The last thing that they heard was a child’s gleeful giggle.”

Some of the young pixies shivered (death by flyswatter was rumored to be very painful) as Wendlyn grinned widely. “So the moral of this story is, be careful who you pick on.”

As Wendlyn finished her sentence, a flyswatter landed on top of the three meanest pixies, and she giggled with glee.