BABY’S VISITORS
by Atha Westbury · from Australian fairy tales
Adapted Version
Once, there was a Little Baby. The Little Baby was very, very still. Mommy was very, very sad. Her heart hurt so much. The Little Baby slept. It did not wake up. It looked like a sleeping angel.
Mommy cried inside her heart. Her big sadness was very strong. This made it hard for Little Baby. It made it hard to go to a happy place.
Mommy felt her world was gone. But birds still sang outside. The sun still shone so bright. Mommy did not feel happy. Her heart was very, very sore.
Then, tiny Little Fairy Friends came in. They flew in the window. Mommy did not see them. They were very small and pretty. They put soft flowers around Little Baby.
The Little Fairy Friends sang a soft song. Their voices were like tiny bells. Mommy heard a quiet sound. She did not know what it was. She did not know where it came from.
Mommy could not see the Little Fairy Friends. They loved Little Baby so much. They watched Little Baby always. They loved Little Baby since it was born.
The Little Fairy Friends remembered Little Baby. They played with Little Baby. They made Little Baby smile. Little Baby laughed in its sleep. They loved to watch Little Baby.
Now the Little Fairy Friends were sad. Little Baby was sleeping forever. Their magic could not wake it up. They wished Little Baby would smile. But it did not smile.
The Little Fairy Friends had an idea. They gently picked up Little Baby. They carried Little Baby outside. They thought the sun would help. They thought the sun would wake it.
They put Little Baby on soft grass. The sun came up so warm. It made the grass shine bright. Little birds sang a soft song. It was a sweet, quiet song.
The warm sun shone on Little Baby's face. It was golden and bright. But Little Baby did not open its eyes. Little Baby did not smile. Its little lips stayed still.
The Little Fairy Friends were very quiet. They knew Little Baby would not wake. They gently carried Little Baby back inside. They put Little Baby in its bed. Then they flew away softly.
Dear Mommy, your Little Baby is safe. Your Little Baby is loved. Angels take care of your baby now. They hold your baby close.
All mommies and daddies, listen. If you love your baby, that love stays. It stays in your heart forever. Love is a special, strong thing. Your baby is always with you.
Original Story
BABY’S VISITORS.
Open the window, wide. How serene and peaceful it is out yonder, where the stars gleam and sparkle—some faint and small as a diamond speck, others large, clear, and dazzling, as the eyes of angels gazing through the dim void earthward to that little room where Baby sleeps the sleep of death. It may have been the shadowing of that radiance, attendant on the sinless ones, whom we call angels, which had cast athwart the infant’s features a sheen of glory, and changed them into the seeming of a sleeping cherub, or perchance the immortal glow that shimmered, widening and circling as it fell, was but the forerunner of that celestial band who bridge space and suffer little children to go unto Him!
See the mother kneeling beside her dead babe, her slender frame convulsed with agony. Not a tear, not a sob, that breaks forth for her lost darling but freights its newly awakened soul and holds it backward from the angels. How can it soar while the kindred spirit below wails its absence, and every moan shouts, trumpet tongued, “Come back! Come back!”
“It was my world,” she says, “my whole world, and it has gone from me like a vision. Alas! Common things live on; earth’s mighty heart still throbs! Creation lifts its voice in sea and air, and in the world’s great mart. Music, life, and motion are everywhere, save in my babe.”
Alas! for thee, fond mother, whose vision mounts no higher than the baby’s cot. Alas! for thee!
Frail, yet beautiful, were the creatures who entered at the open window. Softly as kindly thoughts that gathered round the infant sleeper in wonder, and laid a ring of flowers about it, until they formed a rosy cradle. And then, as the sighing wind or those more delicate strains heard in dreams, the voices of the elfins rose upon the stillness of the night like silver bells.
Solemn was their chant, and weird and fanciful, which anon changed to lighter vein and measure. The mourner heard the sounds, and wondered as the cadence rose and fell upon her grief-dulled ears, but the singers were invisible to her.
“Nurslings of the summer air
Buzz, buzz, here, there.
So we! quaint and gay,
Antic gambol,
Gnome and Fay.
“Whispering to the smiling moon,
Trill, trill, ‘Come soon.’
So we! quaint and gay,
Antic gambol,
Gnome and Fay.
“As the breezes come and go.
Hum, hum. Just so.
So we! quaint and gay,
Antic gambol,
Gnome and Fay.”
As a single drop of water contains things with life and being, which cannot be seen with the naked eye, so in space dwell the creatures of the imagination, both wise and beautiful, being full of love and sympathy for mankind and goodwill towards women and young children. Show me a selfish, disobedient boy, or a naughty girl, who ever saw a fairy. You can’t. I defy you to produce one. But many a bright youth and pretty maiden, who love truth and obedience better than play or lollies, can testify that the lovely persons who came to them in dreams were the same who now stood round the cradle of the dead baby.
How these wee people had loved it, and had kept watch and ward over it, ever since they had espied it in its basket cradle downstairs! Fresh from the mysterious star-world, of which they knew nothing, they had marvelled at it, and had crowed and cooed and sung to it, until it had begun to know them, and answer after its fashion, and laugh, and shake its fat, dimpled fists and crow too.
How they had watched it when it slept, and filled its tiny brain with innocent visions pure as the setting sun! How they had caused their magic to mantle its slumber, and the little rosebud mouth to open out in smiles! How silent and still now! No smile parts the pale lips. Not all the witchcraft in Fairyland, nor all the songs sung by sprite or fay to fretful babyhood, can lift but even one slender hair from those drooping eyelids which shroud the dim, blue eyes.
“Baby’s dead,” said one, and “Dead, dead, dead,” repeated all the elfin circle.
“Let us bear it hence unto the open glade. The bright beams of the morning sun will bring back its look of gladness, and we shall hear its voice again.”
“Ay, bear it hence,” replied the chorus.
Cradled in the wild flowers they had spread around it, the elfins carried off their silent burden, and laid it gently within a scented grove, and as the glorious morn broke forth to life and gladness, the birds gathered together in the fairy haunt and sang a requiem.
Up rose the sun and filled the dell with golden splendour. Its shining beams spread through the foliage in amber-coloured radiance, and played about the fair head of the dead baby until the creatures around shrank back in awe at the sight; but the sun brought no light to its eyes, nor smile to its lips. And so they carried the infant back again within its little room, and departed wondering.
Oh, weeping mother, whose bitter tears have drenched thy baby’s winding sheet, had’st thou faith even as a grain of mustard seed in the Master, thou couldst see above thee, beyond that cold, dead clay, the forms of angels bearing thy little one to eternal rest.
Oh, ye parents, shall I preach to you, as well as to your children? Ye who, when your daily task is done, sit brooding o’er the loss of some fondly remembered child, now sleeping its long sleep in death, take heart if ye have loved it; then it is not dead, but lives again within you. Love cannot die, for it is as immortal as the soul. Like Jacob’s ladder, it is the broad pathway from Paradise to earth, by which our little ones come back to us in visions and in dreams to give us assurance of the tender care of God.
Story DNA
Moral
True love and faith can transcend death, offering comfort and the assurance of eternal life for lost loved ones.
Plot Summary
A mother is consumed by grief over her dead infant, whose soul is held back by her sorrow. Unseen by her, benevolent elfins enter the room, recalling their past interactions with the living baby. They attempt to revive the baby by carrying it to an open glade and exposing it to the morning sun, but their efforts fail. The elfins return the baby, and the narrator concludes by offering a message of faith and the immortality of love to the grieving mother and all parents, assuring them that love transcends death and their lost children live on in spirit.
Themes
Emotional Arc
suffering to spiritual comfort
Writing Style
Narrative Elements
Cultural Context
Infant mortality was high in the Victorian era, making stories about child loss and spiritual comfort common. The emphasis on faith as a coping mechanism reflects the religious sensibilities of the time.
Plot Beats (14)
- The story opens with a description of a dead baby, serene and angelic, and its mother consumed by silent, agonizing grief.
- The narrator explains that the mother's grief holds the baby's soul back from ascending to angels.
- The mother expresses her profound loss, feeling her world has ended while the rest of creation continues.
- Frail, beautiful elfins enter the room through the open window, unseen by the mother, and surround the baby with flowers.
- The elfins sing a solemn, then lighter, chant, which the mother hears but cannot comprehend or see the source of.
- The narrator interjects to explain that only pure-hearted children can see fairies, and these elfins had loved and watched over the baby since its birth.
- The elfins recall how they used to interact with the baby, filling its dreams with visions and making it smile.
- The elfins acknowledge the baby is dead and lament that their magic cannot revive it.
- They decide to carry the baby to an open glade, believing the morning sun will bring it back to life.
- The elfins lay the baby in a scented grove as the sun rises, and birds sing a requiem.
- The sun's golden splendor fills the dell and plays on the baby's head, but brings no light to its eyes or smile to its lips.
- The elfins, awestruck and wondering, carry the baby back to its room and depart.
- The narrator directly addresses the grieving mother, urging her to have faith that angels bear her child to eternal rest.
- The narrator then addresses all parents, assuring them that if they loved their lost child, it lives on within them, as love is immortal and a pathway to God's care.
Characters
The Mother ◆ supporting
Slender frame, likely pale from grief. Her body is convulsed with agony, suggesting a delicate constitution overwhelmed by sorrow.
Attire: Not explicitly described, but given the era and context of a mother grieving her child, she would likely be in simple, perhaps dark, mourning attire or a nightgown if she has been at the bedside. The story mentions 'baby's winding sheet,' suggesting a traditional, perhaps Victorian, setting.
Wants: To mourn her lost child, to cling to the memory and physical presence of her baby.
Flaw: Her overwhelming grief blinds her to spiritual truths and prevents her child's soul from ascending. She is unable to see beyond the physical loss.
She remains in her state of grief, unable to perceive the spiritual reality of her child's passing. The story ends with a plea for her to gain faith, implying she has not yet transformed.
Grief-stricken, devoted, despairing, self-absorbed in her sorrow, lacking spiritual insight.
Image Prompt & Upload
A slender adult woman kneeling beside a small, simple wooden cot. Her body is hunched and convulsed with silent agony, her head bowed low. She has a pale complexion, and her expression is one of profound, internalized grief, with no visible tears. Her dark hair is slightly disheveled. She wears a simple, dark, long-sleeved dress, possibly made of wool or linen, with a high neckline, consistent with late 19th-century mourning attire. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
Baby ★ protagonist
An infant, described as having features changed into the 'seeming of a sleeping cherub' with a 'sheen of glory.' It has a 'tiny brain,' 'fat, dimpled fists,' and a 'little rosebud mouth.' After death, its lips are 'pale,' and eyes 'dim, blue' and 'drooping.'
Attire: Described as being in a 'basket cradle' and later having a 'winding sheet,' implying it is dressed in simple infant clothes or a burial shroud.
Wants: Before death, to interact with its unseen visitors. After death, to ascend to eternal rest.
Flaw: Vulnerable to death, unable to resist its passing.
Dies at the beginning of the story, transitioning from a living infant to a deceased one, then is symbolically carried by the elfins before being returned to its room, awaiting its spiritual ascent.
Innocent, joyful, responsive to the elfins' presence before death. After death, serene and peaceful.
Image Prompt & Upload
A tiny infant lying peacefully, eyes closed, with a serene expression. Its skin is fair and pale, with a faint, ethereal glow. It has soft, fine, light-colored hair. Its small, rosebud lips are slightly parted. It is dressed in a simple, white linen gown, consistent with a baby's christening or burial attire from the late 19th century. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
The Elfins ◆ supporting
Frail, yet beautiful creatures, invisible to the mother. They are 'wee people,' suggesting small stature. They move 'softly as kindly thoughts.'
Attire: Not explicitly described, but implied to be light and ethereal, perhaps made of natural elements like leaves or petals, or simply shimmering light, befitting 'nurslings of the summer air.'
Wants: To watch over and care for the baby, to mourn its passing, and to try to bring it back to life or comfort it.
Flaw: Their magic cannot reverse death; they are limited in their power over human mortality.
They experience sorrow at the baby's death, attempt to revive it, and ultimately return it to its room, departing in wonder, having learned the finality of human death.
Quaint, gay (joyful), sympathetic, loving, watchful, sorrowful at the baby's death, curious, playful.
Image Prompt & Upload
A group of five small, ethereal figures, each no taller than a human hand, with translucent, shimmering wings like dragonflies. They have delicate, beautiful faces with large, luminous eyes and soft, flowing, light-colored hair. Their bodies glow faintly. They wear garments that appear to be woven from starlight and dew, in soft pastel colors like pale green and silver. They are posed in various graceful, floating positions, some with hands outstretched towards a central point. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
Locations
Baby's Little Room
A small, intimate room where the baby lies in its cot, illuminated by the faint sparkle of stars visible through an open window. The atmosphere is heavy with grief and stillness.
Mood: Sorrowful, still, poignant, with a touch of ethereal wonder as the elfins arrive.
The mother mourns her dead baby; the elfins arrive through the window, sing to the baby, and then carry it away.
Image Prompt & Upload
A small, humble room with a single, simple wooden cot in the center. Moonlight streams through an open, unadorned window, casting soft shadows on the worn timber floorboards. A grieving mother, her back to the viewer, kneels beside the cot, her silhouette stark against the faint light. The air is still and heavy. no border, no frame, no watermark, no text, no signature, edge-to-edge illustration.
Open Glade / Scented Grove
An open, natural clearing within a forest, described as a 'scented grove' where wild flowers grow. It is filled with golden sunlight at dawn, and birds gather to sing.
Mood: Hopeful, serene, natural, yet ultimately sorrowful as the sun fails to revive the baby.
The elfins carry the baby to this glade, hoping the morning sun will revive it, but their efforts are in vain.
Image Prompt & Upload
A sun-drenched forest glade at dawn, with tall, slender trees forming a natural enclosure. Golden light filters through the canopy, illuminating a carpet of vibrant wild flowers in shades of blue, purple, and white. The air is fresh and dewy. Birds perch on branches, silhouetted against the rising sun. no border, no frame, no watermark, no text, no signature, edge-to-edge illustration.
