N'essile and Ayala'ya, a recursive fairy tale
By Jeffrey Pike
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About this ebook
A girl, N'essile, and a boy, Ayala'ya, together weave the story of their life. Through enchantments and dreams and across alternate realities, they find and lose and find each other, to be together, always, ever after. A fairy tale for grownups. The story acknowledges that sex happens. Also includes asides on homeschooling, a liberal education, scrapping (a form of debate), the business of magic, and entrepreneurship. Grownup stuff.
Jeffrey Pike
I live in Massachusetts where I am a librarian. I'm not very good at self-promotion, so I don't have a Web site, blog, or a Twitter account. I watch many movies, read many books, indulge an omnivorous taste in music, prepare many meals, love my children and my cats, enjoy tippling on the weekends, and write songs when I am not engaged in other activities.
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N'essile and Ayala'ya, a recursive fairy tale - Jeffrey Pike
N'essile and Ayala'ya, a recursive fairy tale
a story of Câsi'zhéo
by Jeffrey Pike
Smashwords edition
Copyright 2015 Jeffrey Pike
Smashwords edition license note
This estory is licensed for your personal enjoyment. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this story, please purchase additional copies for those recipients or urge them to buy a copy. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to smashwords.com or your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy.
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Table of Contents
Ayala'ya
N'essile
Ayala'ya
Th'issile
N'essile
Ayala'ya
Ever After
About the author
Download Han't, an Exercise in Synonymy, another story of Câsi'zhéo
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In that summer, the longest that ever was, I'd take the food my mother packed for me and climb the long hills in the hot sun to turn and look at their golden and dark green flanks fading into the hazy distance. I'd lie amongst the tall, nodding grasses gazing at the sky and its clouds and invent long daydreams full of adventure and excitement. I'd pull off my clothes and dance naked in front of the world, bellowing my presence to whatever birds and squirrels and deer might listen.
Sometimes a thunderstorm washed over me, spreading thick, lashing water and icy hailstones while the skies rumbled and jittery lightning dashed across the horizon. The storm would pass, and I'd stand shivering in the newly hot sun, my clothes plastered against my skin. I'd dance and slap my arms against my chest to banish their numbness.
Once, as I sat sated, with the scraps of my lunch lying scattered about me, I felt a presence. Looking up, I saw a lovely woman approach. The grasses rustled as she passed, a constant, gentle whisper. Contrary to the day's breezes, they opened before her and inclined after her. Awestruck, my breathing momentarily stilled, I gazed upon her goddess's face as she drew near. She paused before me, smiling, looking down upon me. After a few seconds, she lowered herself to sit in front of me.
Well met,
she said, I wish that I had arrived earlier so that I might perhaps have shared your lunch.
My voice having abandoned its customary place in my throat, I could not but stare in return.
Speechless we are, I see!
She laughed. I have that effect upon boys.
I regained some small measure of composure. Did you know I was here?
I asked.
Oh, yes,
she replied, in high spirits, I've watched you.
I thought of my naked dancing and felt my face grow hot.
She laughed merrily. Don't you worry,
she assured me with mock seriousness. She laid a cool hand on mine. I always turned my eyes.
I noticed those clear orbs sparkling with mischief.
She looked around us at the sunshine dancing on the grass. Tell me. Do you not ever desire company?
No, not really,
I replied, These days I like to be alone. My house is filled with summer guests and my three sisters tease me. The closeness of those crowded rooms lends the freedom of these hills a fascination I cannot resist.
You speak well for one so young,
she said. Your parents must favor your schooling.
I do read a lot. My father is a librarian. I go often with him to work and spend the day amongst his books.
Ah. That explains your pretty speech, then. And your mother? What does she do?
She’s chief of the Constabulary,
I replied.
A policeman?
Her voice expressed a dismay of which I