Pixy's are everywhere...
Their stature and beauty can in no way compare.

Creatures of legend, dancing before my eye.
Engraving ever more intricate trails of light into the sky.

Bodies so limber and lithe...
Each movement more exacting than the hammering of a gold smith.

A lone pixy falls onto the ground.
Emitted from it's throat, a soft keening sound...

My heart flies to her,
As I watch her companions ignore the fallen, treating her as a bur.

And I will remember until the day I die, how it felt....
Knowing that the only compassion that I could offer was to slay the pixy where she knelt.

--by Stephen Pollard