The Pixie and the Spider: An ESFP Fairy Tale
The lighthearted pixie in this fairy-tale is inspired by the fun-loving ESFP.
ESFPs make things fun, for themselves and for their many friends. They are generous and helpful and love to be in the middle of the action when anything exciting is going on. Sometimes called The Performer, they live to entertain others and to enjoy life.
ESFPs generally have a lot of friends and are well-loved for their kindness and positive attitude.
To learn more about ESFP: http://www.truity.com/personality-type/ESFP
The animals called Cranberry Dimplecheeks the friendliest pixie in the forest. She chattered so much that some pixies avoided her. Cranberry didn’t care. She had plenty of other friends. She picked a basket of clover for a mother rabbit who felt overburdened by her enormous family. Cranberry brought along some fresh raspberries for the little bunnies. They tumbled about laughing, and played hopping games through the tangled ferns.
An old spider, crouched in his web, grumbled. “You should be ashamed, you young ninnies, at the noise you are making.” He waved all eight of his spindly legs. “Be off with you.”
Cranberry and the bunnies bounced away. They stopped, for a moment, to rest and giggle.
“Oh woe, my babies will be poked by sharp twigs,” twittered a voice from above. Cranberry looked up through the spring-green leaves. A robin flew by, all aflutter. She wanted to lay her eggs but her nest needed a soft lining for the featherless hatchlings. Cranberry hurried to a nearby marsh and gathered armfuls of fluff from the burst tops of cattails and scurried back through the forest.
“Here is something soft for your little ones, Mother Robin,” she called. The robin sang her gratitude. The old spider growled and threw away the wing cases of an unfortunate ladybug. Cranberry ignored him and scampered off.
She gathered dandelion buds for two young squirrels who had eaten some bad mushrooms. They lay curled up, silent and sick, inside an oak tree. Dandelions are good for digestive ailments and soon the squirrels felt well enough to play. The laughter of the three friends woke the crabby spider, who had woven his web in a dead thicket at the base of the oak. He crept out, soft as a rotten potato, and lay in wait. Crouching in the dirt he waved his eight legs, pretending to be sickly and feeble. He groaned and the softhearted pixie paused for a moment.
“Ooh,” moaned the spider. “If only some kind soul would pull this thorn out of my poor belly.” The pixie ventured closer and the spider groaned even more piteously. Cranberry knew to stay away from spiders but she did not know that this one could spin a story as craftily as he could spin a web. He wove a sad tale; he sobbed and begged for help. The little pixie noticed how weak he seemed and her kind heart drew her in.
“If I just lean back, dear pixie, you could pull out the thorn stabbing my poor tummy.” He shed a tear from each of his six eyes and scrabbled in the dust.
“I will help you,” Cranberry said. “But you must promise not to hurt me.”
Of course, the nasty web-weaver swore an oath that he would be as mild and harmless as a newborn mouse. Cranberry came closer. He reared back to expose his flabby grey-white belly. Cranberry leaned in to look for the thorn. He jumped at her, clutched her with his eight wiry legs, and sank his lethal fangs into her delicate shoulder. She shuddered and collapsed as the spider chuckled with glee.
“There’s an end to all that noise. Perhaps I shall have some peace and quiet now.” He wound a silken thread around her tiny body.
The squirrels ran along the branches and up and down the trunk of the oak tree. They saw the spider wrapping their friend in his sticky threads and chattered so angrily that the forest creatures came to see what was the matter.
The spider dragged Cranberry’s cocooned body to his web. He unbound the dried husks of his previous victims and prepared to drink the pixie’s warm blood. A noise distracted him and he looked up. Solemn-faced animals ringed his web. He opened his mouth to spin more lies, but a kick from a rabbit’s hind paw sent him flying. He died, squashed beneath the hoof of a running deer.
The circle of animals mourned their friend and tears dropped upon the little shrouded body. The spider’s cruel handiwork melted away. Cranberry opened her eyes and struggled to her feet. Confused, she looked down at a cloak that wrapped her, shoulders to knees. She stretched and wiggled. In a burst of color, the cloak unfurled into a magnificent set of wings. She sprang into the air, overjoyed.
From that moment, Cranberry Dimplecheeks always fluttered merrily through the trees. Her smiling face and colorful wings spread good cheer. She avoided spiders, helped the kind animals, and chattered and laughed every day with all of her good friends in the forest.