Delicate
Not many people these days believe in stories of the The Fair Folk, seeing as they’re mostly peddled by old wives to wee children as cautionary tales. But believe me when I say that I’ve seen the Gille Dubh with my very own eyes. My name’s Jessie MacRae, and in my childhood I lived in a home near Loch a Druing. There were grassy glades, dense thickets, and rocky fastnesses in those woods, that looked just the place for fairies.
One afternoon, I was walking through the woods and I lost my way. It was a pleasant summer day, and the sun was still streaming through the trees, so I wasn’t worried. But as the sun fell below the tree-line and the twilight cast a grey pall over the leaves, I grew afraid. I ran until my feet hurt and my lungs burned, and when I could run no more I tripped into a tree’s tangled roots and began to cry. Strangely, the purple sky had grown no darker during my flight, the trees still shrouded in hazy half-light.
Then I heard a small voice above me say, “Why are you crying, child?” I quickly glanced up and saw a tiny man no bigger than an agate’s stone perched upon the small of a hummingbird’s back. His hair was black as a raven’s wing and his dress was of tree leaves and green moss. His sword—if sword it could be called—was a sewing needle, its eye serving as a makeshift hilt. He gazed down kindly and fluttered his gossamer wings. “Do not cry, little girl,” said the Gille Dubh. “I shall lead you through the wood. I know the paths of all creatures that dwell in this land. Follow me and you’ll reach home before the stars come out to peer at us through the trees.”
Then he turned and flew off so fast I feared I would lose him, but the jingle of his hummingbird’s bell led me ever onwards. After some time, we reached the wood’s edge and I glimpsed my home beside the loch. “Have I not led you well? If you should ever lose your way in the forest again, call on me for aid! For I am the Gille Dubh, friend of the small folk. Goodbye, my child, goodbye!” And with that, he disappeared into the darkening trees.
-4.25” x 5.5” card & red envelope
-Blank inside
-Printed on 100lb Cardstock
-Made in USA
About the Artist
Jennifer Smart is a documentary editor and illustration hobbyist based in Washington, D.C. Her artistic niche is mythological creatures and cryptids with a dark fantasy, eldritch twist. Everything's better with at least two too many limbs and eyes in places they don't belong. Delve deeper into the cosmic horrors at www.etsy.com/shop/LehenProductions and on Instagram @jaesmart.
Not many people these days believe in stories of the The Fair Folk, seeing as they’re mostly peddled by old wives to wee children as cautionary tales. But believe me when I say that I’ve seen the Gille Dubh with my very own eyes. My name’s Jessie MacRae, and in my childhood I lived in a home near Loch a Druing. There were grassy glades, dense thickets, and rocky fastnesses in those woods, that looked just the place for fairies.
One afternoon, I was walking through the woods and I lost my way. It was a pleasant summer day, and the sun was still streaming through the trees, so I wasn’t worried. But as the sun fell below the tree-line and the twilight cast a grey pall over the leaves, I grew afraid. I ran until my feet hurt and my lungs burned, and when I could run no more I tripped into a tree’s tangled roots and began to cry. Strangely, the purple sky had grown no darker during my flight, the trees still shrouded in hazy half-light.
Then I heard a small voice above me say, “Why are you crying, child?” I quickly glanced up and saw a tiny man no bigger than an agate’s stone perched upon the small of a hummingbird’s back. His hair was black as a raven’s wing and his dress was of tree leaves and green moss. His sword—if sword it could be called—was a sewing needle, its eye serving as a makeshift hilt. He gazed down kindly and fluttered his gossamer wings. “Do not cry, little girl,” said the Gille Dubh. “I shall lead you through the wood. I know the paths of all creatures that dwell in this land. Follow me and you’ll reach home before the stars come out to peer at us through the trees.”
Then he turned and flew off so fast I feared I would lose him, but the jingle of his hummingbird’s bell led me ever onwards. After some time, we reached the wood’s edge and I glimpsed my home beside the loch. “Have I not led you well? If you should ever lose your way in the forest again, call on me for aid! For I am the Gille Dubh, friend of the small folk. Goodbye, my child, goodbye!” And with that, he disappeared into the darkening trees.
-4.25” x 5.5” card & red envelope
-Blank inside
-Printed on 100lb Cardstock
-Made in USA
About the Artist
Jennifer Smart is a documentary editor and illustration hobbyist based in Washington, D.C. Her artistic niche is mythological creatures and cryptids with a dark fantasy, eldritch twist. Everything's better with at least two too many limbs and eyes in places they don't belong. Delve deeper into the cosmic horrors at www.etsy.com/shop/LehenProductions and on Instagram @jaesmart.
Not many people these days believe in stories of the The Fair Folk, seeing as they’re mostly peddled by old wives to wee children as cautionary tales. But believe me when I say that I’ve seen the Gille Dubh with my very own eyes. My name’s Jessie MacRae, and in my childhood I lived in a home near Loch a Druing. There were grassy glades, dense thickets, and rocky fastnesses in those woods, that looked just the place for fairies.
One afternoon, I was walking through the woods and I lost my way. It was a pleasant summer day, and the sun was still streaming through the trees, so I wasn’t worried. But as the sun fell below the tree-line and the twilight cast a grey pall over the leaves, I grew afraid. I ran until my feet hurt and my lungs burned, and when I could run no more I tripped into a tree’s tangled roots and began to cry. Strangely, the purple sky had grown no darker during my flight, the trees still shrouded in hazy half-light.
Then I heard a small voice above me say, “Why are you crying, child?” I quickly glanced up and saw a tiny man no bigger than an agate’s stone perched upon the small of a hummingbird’s back. His hair was black as a raven’s wing and his dress was of tree leaves and green moss. His sword—if sword it could be called—was a sewing needle, its eye serving as a makeshift hilt. He gazed down kindly and fluttered his gossamer wings. “Do not cry, little girl,” said the Gille Dubh. “I shall lead you through the wood. I know the paths of all creatures that dwell in this land. Follow me and you’ll reach home before the stars come out to peer at us through the trees.”
Then he turned and flew off so fast I feared I would lose him, but the jingle of his hummingbird’s bell led me ever onwards. After some time, we reached the wood’s edge and I glimpsed my home beside the loch. “Have I not led you well? If you should ever lose your way in the forest again, call on me for aid! For I am the Gille Dubh, friend of the small folk. Goodbye, my child, goodbye!” And with that, he disappeared into the darkening trees.
-4.25” x 5.5” card & red envelope
-Blank inside
-Printed on 100lb Cardstock
-Made in USA
About the Artist
Jennifer Smart is a documentary editor and illustration hobbyist based in Washington, D.C. Her artistic niche is mythological creatures and cryptids with a dark fantasy, eldritch twist. Everything's better with at least two too many limbs and eyes in places they don't belong. Delve deeper into the cosmic horrors at www.etsy.com/shop/LehenProductions and on Instagram @jaesmart.
