

Doris dies to herself here in the silence of her lair and the uncertainty about the future. She has faced this ordeal with all the powers she has––hospitality, baking and a positive outlook on life and the belief in the power of peace to build community. But will her love in action be enough? She feeds the bats when the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard, shrill and sweet. In the laughter of both the bats and the fairies, Doris faces and overcomes her deep inner conflict of wanting to fit in as a duck-sized fairy in a bat-infested world.
As an archeologist and philanthropist, world travel has been my lifeblood and has led serendipitously to the transformation of the lives of orphans and the welfare of abused animals in five countries over the last sixteen years. I met ordinary people who, like me, just wanted to make a difference in this world. In this time of the Coronavirus, the world has shuttered. Suddenly our passions, projects and even our connection with people have been put on hold. How do we keep transforming ourselves and the world from the confines of our four walls? How do any of us continue to do what we’ve always done with such dramatic life changes? How do we find a new normal?
Doris’s innermost cave is how her hospitality will work to create peace for the bats and the fairies that have inhabited her home. There is a pause in the action here for the reader to feel the stakes. Will the bats be angry that the honey caused them to stay silent? How would the bats react to laughter of the fairies? Would the bats have a sense of humor? Would her “perfect” canary-inspired idea of baking honey cakes for the bats with the crunchy centers turn into a nightmare? Would Doris be more of an outcast than ever if the bats AND the fairies looked down on her silly ways and ideas? She thought she had it bad just being a duck-sized fairy, but now the stakes are higher.