Showcase: Three Hairy Fairies + The Things My Mother Remembers + LAPO Baby Love Poem + Unearthed

Edited by Palak Tewary

Dear Readers,

As we near the end of the year and step into the glow of the festive season, we’re reminded that even the smallest moments of change can shape the stories we carry forward.

The pieces gathered here explore the spirit of the season – from moments of upheaval and healing, mischief and wonder, love shaped by scarcity and the unexpected beauty that emerges after life’s storms.

Together, they remind us that the end of a year is not just a time of looking back but of uncovering what endures: resilience, generosity, connection and the small miracles that carry us forward.

Keep shaping,
Palak.

Three Hairy Fairies is a playful Christmas tale where mischief meets its match and kindness wins the day. In this whimsical adventure, a bit of holiday chaos leads to understanding, responsibility and a promise that makes Christmas brighter for everyone – cats, families and fairies, alike.

Three Hairy Fairies

Alfred, Alan and Arthur didn’t look like the fairies you might see in story books. They were covered in thick hair. It was all over their bodies, arms and legs. In fact, the only parts not covered with hair were their smiley faces,  hands, feet and wings – which were like a butterfly’s but much, much larger. They had to be, as the hairy fairies measured just over a metre high from head to toe. They were very friendly and liked to help people, granting their wishes when they could, and were liked by all the other fairies. They also like to play pranks, though, great fun – they thought.

Coming up to Christmas, their favourite prank was to blow fairy dust down the chimneys of houses where people had lit fires. This would cause soot to come out of the fireplace and into the room, covering everyone and everything. One fairy would be on the roof, while the other two watched through the window. When they saw everyone, even the cats and dogs, with soot over their faces, they’d laugh until their sides hurt. People can’t see or hear fairies because of the magic that surrounds them, but cats and dogs can. So when cats and dogs saw the fairies laughing, they’d bark and meow angrily. Of course, that would only make the fairies laugh even more!

In the Jones’s house, where the fairies regularly blew fairy dust down the chimney, the two resident cats decided to do something about it. Charlie, a large ginger tom, spoke while sneezing and wiping the soot from his face with his paw: “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. If those naughty fairies blow soot down the chimney, it will be all over the Christmas tree and the presents – some of them might even get ruined. The children, Alice and John, will be miserable and our family will be spending all their time clearing up and not enjoying themselves. What we need to do is get up on the roof and wait for the fairy to come by, then bite and scratch him before he can blow the fairy dust down the chimney. That will stop him and we can tell the other cats in other houses to do the same.”

Tim, a black cat with white paws, said: “I’ve worked out how to climb onto the roof. Because I’m black, the fairy won’t see me when he lands and I should be able to get to him before he blows the dust down the chimney.”

The next night, shivering with cold and wishing he was sitting by the warm fire, Tim was on the roof, waiting unseen. When Alfred the fairy landed, Tim pounced, with claws and teeth going through Alfred’s hairy skin, deep into the flesh of his bum. In shock, Alfred immediately flew into the air, taking Tim with him.

When they were way up high, Tim let go and fell into the top branches of a nearby tree, realising he would not be able to get down. The branches were very bendy, liable to break if he moved. Very scared, he started meowing loudly. Fortunately, Alfred was not far away. Even though Alfred realised it was Tim who had bitten and scratched him, he flew down and picked him up, taking him to the ground.

The other two fairies came to see what was happening, as did Charlie. Alfred wanted to know why Tim had attacked him and once it was explained all fairies promised never to blow fairy dust down any chimney again. The Jones family could now have a lovely Christmas – though the fairies would now have to find a new prank!

© Adrian Barnett, 2025

*****

The Things My Mother Remembers invites us into a past marked by hardship and unimaginable loss. In the warmth of the season, this poem reminds us that the spirit of Christmas is not only found in celebration, but also in the resilience inherited through generations – the quiet miracles of survival, sacrifice and the hope that guides us into each new year.

The Things My Mother Remembers

My mother recalls dodging a thousand bombs
by hiding under the leaves of banana trees,
clinging to the wooden railings of our ramshackle home,
where the snails had lain for the night,
and birds littered their faeces, dropped their feathers,
Snakes laid some eggs for the new season.
A bullet whizzed past her, missing her by an inch,
but grazed an overhanging branch of the uha tree,
uprooting our hundred-year-old hibiscus flower,
which my great-grandmother planted on her wedding day.
My mother would never forget that night,
when my father hung on the top of a coconut tree,
like a squirrel afraid of the cat waiting on the ground,
crunching on coconut fruits, drinking milky water,
while watching the soldiers forage into our rooms,
searching for the man whose children were in the war.
They brandished machine guns, Dane guns, knives,
and armoured cars in the middle of our compound,
a beehive of a thousand-foot soldiers, chewing gums.
My mother sweated in her pants, her heart pulsated,
her face stuck into spaces between the walls,
not willing to see when they dragged my father out
and shot him in cold blood inside our compound.
The chilly thought numbed her mind and hands.
She didn’t wish to see how my father’s blood rushed,
through the body she had kissed and massaged,
the hands she had held in hers with a pounding heart,
and the gift of a lifetime that gave her children.
How could she forget how hunger ate her children,
foraging their intestines like thieves looting treasures,
in bodies gleaming like bright palaces;
like maggots, she could not sweep away from the room,
but ransacked bodies like worms, a million ants,
and the only thing available was a handful of glass,
grey and black pieces from our shattered window panes.
The leaves had wilted and frozen on the ground,
but my mother scooped them up as a blessing to feed us;
when it was something to stuff into our dry mouths.
How could she forget the biting stings of hunger,
like the claws of a tiger closing on our throats.

© Jonathan Chibuike, 2025

Connect with Jonathan on Facebook: Chibuikeukasoanya and X: Johnking1502

*****

LAPO Baby Love Poem is a celebration of affection shaped not by wealth but by imagination, devotion and the small miracles two people create together. In its playful choices and vibrant imagery, the poem reflects how love – like Christmas – often shines brightest in its simplest, most sincere forms, reminding us that even in a year of challenges, the heart still finds room to give.

LAPO Baby Love Poem

Because for this country, if you no geh money, love go be like exam.

1. Wetin you mean when you talk say you love her?
2. Her voice be like evening rain.
3. If e dey possible you go live inside her hair.
4. Her dialect be like small bird wey land on top your finger.
5. You no sabi where this love thing start and where e end, only say you dey somewhere for middle dey dance inside rain like small pikin.

 

2. If they tell you make you describe her, you go say___
3. She be cold zobo. You dey drink her name every night until your tongue change colour.
4. She be ripe mango. You never see anything wey sweet reach her laugh.
5. She be your lullaby. Her soft voice dey pilot you enter dream.
6. The first day wey you follow her talk, you decide say she be your favourite song. That day, as she dey talk for phone, you and God dance just dey dance.

 

3. If e dey possible, you go____
4. Climb ladder, arrange all the stars, use am write poem for her.
5. Use her language, teach the sun love song. Make he dey sing for her every morning.
6. Slice your language till e pieces, use am hold long talk with her hands.
7. Build house on top her tongue, stay until you turn metaphor for there.

 

4. But you no geh money, na poem she go chop?
5. Na here the poem go turn prayer.
6. You go till ground like farmer wey dey find water.
7. You go turn your body to offering, tell her say make she eat.
8. Both of una dey rugged this thing. You country talk say nothing cost reach love. You carry widow’s mite, raise am make heaven see.

 

5. And this thing wey you dey do now come be wetin?
6. Na promise. You go recite am like church hymn.
7. Na prayer. Baba God no go bobo you.
8. You go use am rinse mouth until your tongue memorise every vowel.
9. Make she read am smile. Make e sweet her bele.

© Derek Ehiorobo, 2025

Connect with Derek  on Instagram: @derekimagines and X: @derekimagines

*****

Finally, Unearthed reflects on how, even in the aftermath of turmoil, hidden treasures surface: clarity, resilience and the small, steady light that returns when the world begins to settle again. In the spirit of Christmas, this poem reminds us that, from chaos can come renewal and from darkness, a brightness that guides us into the year ahead.

Unearthed

The wind whips up gathering between the peaks
at the window a howl begs to be let in
to hide from quick striking lightening

now, as leaves are forced from branches,
life clings to hill and forest each appendage
racked with grief, bowed into a prayer stance

When it’s over can you imagine the damage
but also, the treasures unearthed

from chaos arises opportunity
or something like that, I’ve heard.

Shutters blown open expose sunshine
returned to the land where life emerges
prowling and scuddling laced with wet
settling into a new routine, shining in the light.

© TAK Erzinger, 2025

Connect with TAK on Instagram: @takerzinger

*****

You can hear great new ideas, creative work and writing tips on Write On! Audio. Find us on all major podcast platforms, including Apple and Google Podcasts and Spotify. Type Pen to Print into your browser and look for our logo, or find us on Podcasters.Spotify.com.

*****

If you or someone you know has been affected by issues covered in our pages, please see the relevant link below for ​information, advice and support​: https://pentoprint.org/about/advice-support/