A long time ago, in a faraway land, in a nice, peaceful village with good, humble people, surrounded by snowy mountains and flowing waterfalls, soft bubbling springs, lilies and dandelions, and butterflies and bunnies hopping about, there lived the most dangerous young woman in the history of time.

She was experimental to the core, and drawn to anything that had warning signs, especially if they were red, and decorated with exclamation marks and skeleton heads.

She had a collection of helmets that had all seen better days. A wide range of ropes, cords, harnesses, and carabiners, for climbing up mountains with dangerous overhanging faces, bungee jumping, water sports, air sports, diving with sharks. And for certain more private experiments. Of a biological nature.

And a secret lab for home explosives, that once a month—at a specific time of the month—created a big boom with a mushroom cloud.

The young woman was called Thumbelina, because she had a very green thumb—from playing with radiation.

The effects of her experimental nature never bothered the village people, any magical creatures, the bunnies and butterflies, or even the neighbors who lived next to her farm, because she had an all-powerful witch on call.

It was an almost full-time job to magically clean up after Thumbelina and, given the effort, the witch charged by the hour. But Thumbelina was happy to pay, so the agreement served both sides, until…

One day, Thumbelina accidentally—as she claimed—blew up the witch’s favorite cauldron.

Big, big mistake.

“I’ve had it with your madness, girl! Is there nothing for you in life, which doesn’t involve reshaping the lithosphere, or causing a zombie apocalypse?”

“Like what? Clean and spin and knit and cook and faint and get woken up by a prince who marries me?”

“Hmm…” The witch smiled a wicked smile that carried an emotional combination of creativity, vengeance, anger, too much coffee, and malice. “From your mouth, straight to the gods!”

And then, she disappeared in a puff of smoke, going Muahahaha! all over the place.

When the smoke cleared, Thumbelina looked around and realized that either all the furniture had suddenly grown, or she was now very, very small.

She started to wander between the rooms of her now-giant cottage. She discovered that her favorite lab tubes were large enough for her to stick her legs into—which was a lot of fun and turned them purple. And that her matchboxes made the perfect drawer cabinet, after she’d emptied them and used the potassium chlorate to create tiny hand grenades.

When she got bored of everything indoors, she set off into the wild, dressed in puppet hiking clothes from her tiny design mannequin, and armed with a needle, a drop of pepper spray, and a shield made from attaching a large button to a nipple tassel.

The first thing that caught her eye was the garbage can. She base-jumped from its top, using flower petals, and then off the head of her scarecrow.

She didn’t see the man-fairy approach.

She didn’t see his wings. Or his abs shining in the sunlight, and the six-pack that was oily from his flight under a palm tree. The stubble. The large green eyes. Or the curly hair that waved backward in slow motion when he tossed his head as he landed, his muscular legs hitting the ground in a way that totally leaked testosterone.

It was all wasted on her, as she contemplated what to climb up next.

“Er… Hello. I’m Tulip.”

She turned. “Oh, hi there. I’m Thumbelina.”

He breathed out in relief. “I’m not too late. I came as soon as we heard.”

“Heard what? Who’s ‘we’?”

“My people—we heard a human got shrunk to our size, and now she is an unprotected damsel who needs saving.”

He fidgeted nervously when he talked to her, which was kinda cute for someone that hot.

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll let you know if I see her.”

He laughed, his eyes sparkling at her. “I’ve heard that before. It’s called denial.”

“Oh, you meant me? I wasn’t sure there. I’m fine, really. I was just about to jump off the top of that garden gnome and—”

“Don’t! It’s not the end of the world. You don’t have to kill yourself.”

“Kill myself? No. It’s a sport. Fun! And anyways, don’t worry about the spell. I’m sure it’s all temporary; I’m trying to make the best of it while I can.”

“So, you don’t know? The only way to magically shrink someone to our size is to shrink them in every form. Soon it will shrink your life, your independence, your thoughts, your personality. And then you will become a dependent damsel, while all the while attracting those who want to keep you that way. You’ll end up married to someone who wants to enslave you and doesn’t listen, can’t listen, went deaf in the middle of a perpetual silent treatment, or simply died before he got the chance to do so.”

She stopped at his words and remembered the things she’d said to the witch right before she became vertically challenged.

And then her eyes landed on Tulip, and she kept thinking. Long and hard. Long. And hard. Until there was nothing left in her mind except for unicorns, rainbows, and fifty shades of walnut shells large enough for rafting.

“Miss?” He observed her, bashfully.

She wasn’t used to losing concentration. Rafting. Tulip. Tulip. Rafting. Hmm… “So, you say this spell affects my thinking?”

He nodded.

“How long till it takes full effect?”

“Hard to know. Which is why I’m here—to take you to another witch who is friends with us fairy folk. The fairy king will pay my board and bread and all other expenses, so I can be your companion and shield you until we get there.”

“By companion…”

He blushed and looked down shyly. “Sorry, I’m not allowed to charge for that.”

“Your loss.”

He laughed. For a moment, he thought that sweetness passed between them, but then she simply asked him where they were headed and whether there were any alligators on the way. So, he pointed in the direction and they started to walk.

He was impressed by Thumbelina’s ease as they made their way between the bushes. He had just plucked up the courage to ask what she’d done to make her this small, when suddenly…

A giant toad jumped out of nowhere and caught them both in his mouth. They kicked, and punched, and cursed, and yelled. But it was no use. The toad took them into his cave, spat them out, and then observed them intently, licking his lips.

“You flying-thingy will make a good breakfast. Mmm…buffalo wings. And you will make the perfect wife for my son.”

“Ah…no. I’m actually not the marrying type. Sorry for the disappointment there. I’m sure your son is lovely.” Thumbelina tried not to laugh. “So, we’ll head out now. Goodbye. It’s all been a misunderstanding.”

“Stop to consider, young lady: you will get this luxurious home, which you’ll cook in, clean and decorate for him and your many children.”

“Sounds…very tempting. Except…you don’t really want me in your kitchen. I’m good with mixing things that explode. My specialties are heat, fusion, and impact.”

“But you look like the perfect housewife material.”

“Do I? Looks can be deceiving.”

“Enough!” Tulip stepped between them. “She’s not your little house slave. We’re going to leave now. Or there will be consequences.”

“From whom? The flower children?”

“Flower children?” Thumbelina raised her eyebrows at Tulip.

“Ah…it’s just a name.” Tulip brushed his hand through his hair, his fingers moving through the curls, like an anti-dandruff commercial. He got so nervous that all his muscles tightened, like the perfect Greek god. “We may…live inside flowers, and maybe walk around naked sometimes, and occasionally preach about peace, love, freedom, and happiness. And very rarely get smashed enough to pray to the moon.”

“I see,” she said, for a moment distracted by his looks and the whole naked thing.

“But you don’t make good warriors,” the toad snickered. “You will become the first dish that she cooks.”

“You know…” Thumbelina said to the toad. “I…really understand where you’re coming from. I got you there. We humans also eat things with wings. But we say a special prayer first. Are you ready? Now, for it to work, you need to stand over there and he needs to be over here.”

The toad looked at her curiously, but followed the instructions, moving deeper into the cave while Thumbelina and Tulip stood closer to the opening.

“I can still catch you both from here, if you were planning a pathetic escape.”

“Oh, no, none of that, trust me,” Thumbelina reassured him. “Certainly not in the middle of praying! Now, I’ll have to bless the ground with one of these.” She took out a hand grenade.

Tulip watched her carefully.

She pulled the safety pin and screamed “Fly!” just in time for him to grab her and get them both out of there.

The blow was hard—for something that small—and the cave sealed the toad in.

“That was awesome!” Tulip said, mid-flight.

“I always say my prayers. Seems the gods hear me.”

He laughed.

They had a safe landing, just beside a large puddle that looked like a mini-lake to them.

Tulip moved clumsily away, as he released her from the heavenly grab that he needed for the rescue. “I’m curious: what did you do to get so tiny?”

“What didn’t I do?” She gave him a crooked smile, and watched his breath quicken, and then started to tell him about her life, as they walked around the puddle.

“I’m impressed. Honestly,” he said when she’d caught him up on her latest adventures. “I’ve saved a couple of damsels in distress before, but you…it seems wherever you go, it’s everything else that needs saving.”

She laughed.

“By the way, I like your clothing style. What do you people call this fashion?”

“Mountain rescue.”

“Very sexy,” he said, surprising himself. Then, he went sad. “It will be a shame if we can’t undo the spell.”

“That’s possible?”

“It only happened once, but yes. So we must hurry.”

Next came the Maybug.

“Will you marry me?”

They heard his low voice behind them, just as Tulip was telling Thumbelina how he’d once traveled to see the northern lights above the ocean, and then lost his virginity the next day.

The Maybug flew toward them at speed. Tulip grabbed Thumbelina and took off.

The Maybug followed. “Will you marry me?” he repeated.

“No!” she shouted.

“But I will take you home, where you will cook, clean, and decorate for me and our children.”

“Fuck off!”

“It’s best if you don’t talk back,” Tulip whispered.

“I always talk back! Actually…do I?”

“Oh, no. It’s the spell. Fight it! Talk back, if you must.”

“Okay…Maybug, I will marry you.”

“Not that! Say anything else.”

“Like what?”

“What you said before.”

“Oh. Right. Maybug, please fuck off.” She said it so sweetly that it sounded like a compliment.

“Try harder.”

“Okay…ah…may you drop dead before the end of the day!”

“That’s it!”

“No, I didn’t mean to say that. I’m sorry, I will marry you.”

The Maybug reached them and caught Tulip’s wings. Tulip head-butted him and the Maybug let them go, but Tulip was injured and couldn’t keep up the speed and height.

Slowly, they descended onto a stream underneath. Right next to a waterfall.

“Quickly, grab that leaf!” Thumbelina called.

“It won’t hold us.”

“We’ll use it between us to parachute.”

“To what?”

“Just trust me. Let me be your wings.”

Tulip grabbed one end of the leaf and Thumbelina held the other. They reached the waterfall and parachuted down. Then they swam to shore.

“That was a great idea!” Thumbelina said.

“It was yours.”

“Really? I don’t remember that.”

He looked at her, worried. “You’re changing fast. And it’s getting dark. I can’t fly anymore with injured wings. But we flower children heal in our sleep. We must find shelter and tomorrow, we’ll keep going.”

He prayed that nothing else would try to marry her that night, but the gods were already asleep.

It was almost pitch dark, and freezing, when they found a mouse hole. The mouse invited them to spend the night. He was already married.

But his friend, the mole, wasn’t. He showed up right after Tulip went to sleep, and Thumbelina had to sit and listen to him out of politeness.

He was the traveling kind of bachelor, spoke seventeen languages, and knew everything about history and science. He was also one of the most boring animals alive when he opened his mouth.

Thumbelina struggled to keep her eyes open, while slowly losing her neurons. At some point, she nodded off, and the mole poked her.

“So…will you marry me?”

“Is that a common greeting in this country?”

“That was rude!” The mole looked insulted.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I’m normally very docile and obedient, I think.”

“Good. Then you’ll make an excellent wife.”

“I’m sure I will. Shall I…go fetch you something?”

“Dew off that mushroom outside.”

“Okay.” She dragged her tired legs out of the cave. A part of her wondered whether this really was the way she normally behaved, while a weird inner voice told it to shut up.

She reached the mushroom and saw a butterfly on it, smoking a shisha. She hadn’t noticed him from the mouse hole.

The butterfly looked at her. “Who are you? Kidding. Will you marry me?”

She turned and went right back.

In the morning, Tulip found her cleaning and doing laundry.

“We need to go,” he whispered. “Before they wake up.”

“I can’t. I have to stay here and marry the mole and cook and decorate the home for us and our children, while setting a small batch of cleanup liquids on fire, in an attempt to create fireworks. Sorry, I don’t know where that last bit came from.”

“It’s who you really are. I must get you out of here.”

“How?”

“I’ve got wings!”

“You drink Red Bull?”

“No. Real ones…look at my back. Don’t you remember me?”

“Turnip?”

“Close enough. Let’s go.”

It took some persuasion, and in the end, she only agreed because he kept talking and she was afraid he’d wake up her future husband.

Tulip flew them to his commune leader.

“She’s fading fast. Is there any way to get the witch to us?”

The leader observed Thumbelina, who was dusting the rose beside him, while looking for a way to paint it red.

“I’m afraid there’s no way to contact the witch.”

“What about the circle of standing stones?”

“We never knew what that was for. We assumed it’s for the heathen gods. We mustn’t upset them.”

“We had four marriage proposals yesterday. She accepted one!”

“Already? This is indeed the toughest case we’ve had. All right, we will go to the stones.”

So, while Tulip and Thumbelina set off toward the witch, hoping the prayers would get answered and they’d meet her mid-way, the flower children went to the stones. They set up drumming circles, and got butt-naked and stone-drunk, and danced and laughed and prayed for help, and covered themselves with body paint and blessed herbs and healing stones, and shared partners, and waved at the sky and screamed unintelligible words.

There is a statistic when it comes to praying:

Twenty percent of all prayers get forgotten by the people who prayed. Thirty percent get forgotten by the gods. Ten get ignored. Five get you punished for even thinking of them. The other thirty-five percent sometimes get answered.

Unfortunately, and most people don’t know this: standing stones piss off the gods.

Punishment for hubris came when Thumbelina and Tulip reached the wooden wall that Thumbelina had built at the edge of her farm, in order to connect it to her chimney with a tightrope to walk on…

“There she is!” The mole appeared out of nowhere. “My future wife.”

“No. My future wife,” the toad now joined in.

“No, she’s marrying me!” The Maybug got between them.

“Stay away from her!” Tulip stepped in front of Thumbelina.

“Or you’ll what?” The toad looked at the looming wooden wall. “Flower people can’t fly that high while carrying someone. I should have eaten you when I could.”

“Stop it!” Thumbelina cried softly. “Such violent talk, especially coming from a creature that some of my people cook.”

“Well, I’m assuming that once you’re my wife, you wouldn’t think of cooking me.”

“Don’t. I mean…”

“I said, she’s my wife.” The Maybug pushed him.

“You know, we could all share,” the mole suggested. “Ménage and all? Very modern.”

The three of them laughed a wicked laugh and prepared to charge at Thumbelina and Tulip.

And then, the alien spaceship descended from the skies.

It was the size of a Frisbee and landed right beside Thumbelina, while flashing colorful lights at everybody.

“Leave them alone!” A radiophonic voice spoke with reverb, and a tiny creature stepped out.

He was smaller than Thumbelina and Tulip, and looked humanoid—except for the antennae on his green head, the three tentacles, the red glowing eyes, and the ultra-thin neck. But apart from those minor things that nobody really cares about, he looked human.

The mole saw him and turned to run, while the Maybug flew away, scared, and the toad hopped as fast as he could.

The alien observed Thumbelina. “You poor girl. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. Will you marry me?” And then, he burst out laughing.

“You think this is funny?” Thumbelina frowned. “How would you feel if you just had my last twenty-four hours?!”

She was a little bit bigger.

The alien smiled proudly. “Good. You’re coming out of it. I thought our multi-galactic-spell-removing-hypervortex-and other big names-thingy would work on you.”

She looked around. She was already half her usual size. “How did you find us?”

“The flower children prayed. We intercepted a message.”

“Thanks for coming!” Tulip said, but he didn’t seem thankful at all. He was now tiny in comparison with Thumbelina, who’d reached full size.

Thumbelina picked him up in her hand and brought him to her face. “I will miss you.”

“Then, stay!”

“I can’t. I’m too big.”

“That’s easily fixed.” The aliens—five had come out now—all smiled proudly. “All you need is our molecular-size-changing-astro-cosmo-mega-deka-flashing red thingy that changes size.”

Tulip looked at her with a plea.

“But you wouldn’t want me. I’m everything except for the docile wife you met today.”

“That’s not what I want. I like who I met yesterday. Will you try? Will you see if this could be a fit?”

“Are you sure?”

Tulip beamed at her.

She looked down at the aliens. “Ah…what do I…”

“One million dollars please.”

“Oh, I didn’t see that coming. Shall we barter instead?”

The aliens talked among themselves, and then turned back. “There’s one thing we always wanted and couldn’t do, no matter how much we tried. Do you know anyone who can make fireworks out of cleanup liquids?”

Thumbelina smiled proudly. “I’m your girl!”

So Thumbelina stayed with the flower people.

During the first year, she was a tiny human with no wings. But their witch promised to give her wings, in exchange for the molecular-size-changing-astro-cosmo-mega-deka-flashing red thingy.

It was a tough decision, because it meant staying forever. But after getting to know Tulip and his people, Thumbelina decided this was the right life for her. The commune was very supportive—even excited—by her lifestyle. Nobody stopped her from turning leaves into water slides, going whitewater rafting on honeycombs, diving with ducks during mating season, or doing other creative things that sometimes required a witch to fix. And the damage, being small in size, was just an easy hocus-pocus.