The Fairy Dust Experiments
(April 1512)
Part I
The Red Discovery
Santa sat alone in his workshop long after the candles had guttered out. The only light came from a faintly glowing pouch on the workbench—red fairy dust, gifted by chance, shimmering like embers without flame. It had sat unopened for a week now, while Santa read, pondered, and stared into the fire.
He didn’t know what it could do.
He had to know what it could do.
A Careful Start
Wearing gloves and a dust mask, He set his journal open and quill ready, Santa pinched a few grains of the dust and sprinkled them over a plain wooden block. He watched closely. Nothing happened.
Next, he tried warming the block over the hearth before applying the dust.
Still nothing.
Finally, he whispered a hopeful word—“Rise”—half-joking, half-wishing.
The block stayed where it was.
But the dust? It shimmered upward for a second. Not floated—pulled. Briefly.
Santa noted it all carefully. The reaction was subtle, but real.
The Feather Test
Next came something lighter. He placed a snow goose feather on the table and repeated the process: a pinch of dust, a breath of warmth, a whisper of intent.
This time, the feather wobbled... then lifted off the table by a few inches before drifting back down.
Santa stood still. His beard twitched.
The red fairy dust didn’t simply float things—it responded to motion. To momentum. To the desire to move.
The Reindeer Reaction
Days later, with more tests behind him, Santa ventured to the stables. He brought with him Comet, the steadiest of the sleigh-pullers, and asked her to nibble a small amount of moss mixed with the tiniest grain of the red dust.
She blinked.
Stretched.
Then leapt forward in a graceful arc that should have brought her down immediately—but instead, she glided a full two seconds
longer than gravity allowed before touching the earth again.
Santa’s jaw dropped. He checked her hooves. Perfectly clean. She was fine.
She glided.
Not flew.
But almost.
The Journal Entry (Excerpt)
Red fairy dust seems to bond with motion—especially willful, joyful motion. It does not act alone, but when combined with life, intent, and movement... it lifts. Not abruptly. Not without permission. But it lifts.
I suspect it could be... a source of flight.
But more tests are needed. Safely, slowly. And always with wonder.
As Santa tucked the pouch back into his satchel and stared out the window at the snowy hills, he smiled faintly.
He wasn’t just discovering a material.
He was learning a language of magic.
And this—this was only the beginning.
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