in a small-town as ordinary as you can find, lived an extraordinary young woman. Her name was Faye and her passion was everything floral. Even as a child, Faye was always mesmerized by flowers, herbs and what great things they were capable of. She treated them with kindness and respect, and in return was able to make much more use out of them than your average farmer. She understood spices, became familiar with ivies, got acquainted with vines and blossoms. She knew how to cure a stomachache, how to calm down a feverous child, how to help a newborn fall asleep to let his mother rest.
When she was five, she healed a bird’s broken wing with the help of her potions. By the age of ten, she was already helping with her brother’s fevers and her mother’s migraines. People started coming to Faye's house to ask for her help with bad hair and relationships. She had potions for lovesickness and for flu, for bad skin and for stomachache. She even had one that helped people bear children when it seemed like nothing could.
Faye’s parents were happy at first, that she was talented and skilful, unlike other girls in town. They soon noticed that she wasn’t like other girls in just everything. She didn’t talk to boys, didn’t like cooking, she wasn’t the tidiest person and she didn’t care much for cleaning the house... Worst of all, she didn’t want to get married. Her mother had these talks with her every single night, but she still couldn’t grasp the importance of becoming a proper woman, with a God-loving husband and kids. Faye didn’t want to hear about the suitors lining up at her door, she refused gifts and became silent as soon as men tried to talk to her.
One time, when her parents thought Faye just needed stronger persuasion when it came to making such important decisions, they invited a suitor into the house. They didn’t intend on asking if she wanted to marry that one. They wanted to get this over with. Faye broke down crying when she got the picture painted for her, she was inconsolable. The suitor was offended, the mother was furious... That’s when Faye’s father made a tough decision to send his daughter off to the local church. Hopefully, the Pastor could get her to straighten her priorities.
Faye was devastated. She spent her days cleaning the church’s grounds, which was part of her penance. She spent the nights locked up in her chamber, crying her eyes out instead of sleeping. The only thing bringing her joy in the hopelessness of her situation were the plants growing in the garden she was also supposed to take care of. She talked to the flowers because there was no one else to talk to.
One day, when Faye seemed to have lost all that was left of her, she met Hope. Hope was a little girl, living on the church’s grounds. Hope was left at the door of the Pastors house when she was just a baby, he brought her up as his own child. Hope was the sweetest little thing, kind to everyone: young or old, rich or poor. She really didn’t deserve to be dying at such a young age, yet she was. Faye could instantly tell it by how fragile and pale the girl was. It was almost as if you could break her bones just by holding her hand too tightly.
Faye and Hope were inseparable from the day they met. Faye taught the little girl all the knew about nature. She showed her how to take care of the flowers and trees in the garden. She told her stories the people used to tell her when they came asking for help. She tried to show her the world while she still could experience it. It was pointless, of course. She couldn’t give her a life in a month’s time.
Faye decided she couldn’t just stand by and let an innocent child, and such a lovely one, die. She was strictly prohibited from brewing potions and “all that witchcraft of yours” when she came to the church, but for Hope’s sake, she was willing to risk it all.
She picked the ripest fruit and the richest blossoms for her potion. She prayed all night to make the herbs’ powers even stronger. She poured her heart and soul into this one, she was so desperate for it to work. She resorted to brewing it in the garden, so the Pastor wouldn’t notice. As soon as the remedy was finished, she sneaked into the Pastor’s house, into the chamber where little Hope lived. Unfortunately, the sleepy child took too long to understand what was going on. Just as Faye finished explaining to her what the potion was going to do and how it might help with her illness, as she was feeding Hope a spoonful of it, the Pastor burst into the room. He was furious. He thought the witch tried to poison his little girl.
In the following week, while preparing for his daughter’s death, he wished nothing less for the vicious sorceress. He locked her up, not in a room this time, but in the church’s cellar. The hanging was set to take place on sunrise, in three days.
Faye spent the time she had praying for the little girl's soul. She didn’t care much about her own. If she was supposed to die because she tried to help she wanted it to be worth it. She couldn’t leave the dungeons, nobody would tell her about Hope, so Faye could only wonder if her sacrifice was in vain. She didn’t know that Hope wasn’t well. She hadn’t woken up from the slumber Faye caught her in, she was feverish and delusional.
The day of the trial came and, with all hope seemingly lost, Hope woke up. Not only was she well-rested, but her fatigued bluish complexion was replaced with a healthy glow. She was full of energy like never before, her eyes lit up much more than the morning sun and she even seemed taller. The Pastor couldn’t believe his eyes. His daughter was, indeed, cured by the potion that treacherous sorceress gave her.
He prayed and read the Bible, he contemplated all the laws of God and Laymen he knew. He finally realized that only a God-loving, humble and righteous woman, whose devotion and kindness knows no bounds, could be such a miracle-worker. “To risk her own life to try and save a child with the talent, the gift she has, even when no one else believed her... That’s what it means to be a true believer” -- he told Faye’s parents as he let her go in peace. He suggested that she stay on the church grounds if she still didn’t want to get married: “There is always room here for someone of such faithful nature”. But Faye wasn’t going to settle down anywhere just yet.
She has found her true calling. To this day she spends her days somewhere in the woods. She talks to the plants in her garden at day and brews potions at night. Occasionally a passerby stops nervously at her door, hesitating to come in. Faye always has just what they need and is ready to help, whatever the trouble may be.
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