Jack was a small and insignificant thing to the adults around him. His wiry frame, messy hair, and crooked teeth made for an appalling sight to anyone who looked on him. Even his parents would scold him to present himself better, but he wasn’t interested in people, he loved nature and everything it included. Nothing would sway him from his more feral roots, not even the prodding and ridicule of his parents to impress other people.
Often enough, Jack could be found playing down under the cypress trees by the creek as he talked to himself, slapping mud from the creek into vague shapes that may have resembled something to him, but no one else could see. He would spend hours by that creek and no one knew the truth of why he loved to be there. The fairies kept him company but, of course, adults can’t see fairies because they don’t believe.