Twisted Fayrie Tales

by Sally Odgers

  Just as Andy was about to hit the Send button and post his reply to the breeding discussion, he heard a clicking sound from behind him. When he turned, Marsha was standing there, tapping on the glass of the aquarium with her fingernails to get his attention. Inside, Amanda circled wildly through the clumps of sword grass, agitated.

  Marsha tapped one more time, and then stopped. “I'm going to bed, but I wanted to make sure you understand. This isn't something that might happen. It's a done deal. Or will be, as soon as I find a buyer.” She reached behind her head to free her hair, and instead of falling down it seemed to spring from her scalp in tendrils. “So you may want to start packing."

  Andy gripped the arms of the chair hard enough that his fingers turned white. “If you want to leave, why can't you just ... I can live here alone. You don't have to take care of me."

  "You don't seem to understand.” Marsha's voice was even, but she thumped the lid of the tank to emphasize each word. Inside, Amanda was buffeted back and forth with each impact. “I'm taking everything that is mine and getting out. That includes my half of this house. You've ruined the last ten years of my life; I don't even want to know where you go after this, but you won't be staying here.” She turned, and he heard the echo of her footsteps down the hallway.

  Knees shaking, Andy stood up slowly and walked to the door. After closing it, he paced around the room in circles, each time hitting the doorframe with his open palm as he walked by. Should I get a lawyer? he wondered. He tried to remember the reading of his parents’ will, exactly what had been said as far as their rights, but it was lost in the whole blur of their death. He had been thirteen at the time, and Marsha twenty-two; maybe she did have the power to sell on her own.

  He stopped by the fish tank and leaned over, opening the lid. Tears were trickling down the bridge of his nose into the water below, and he wondered if they would affect the water quality. He tried to focus on Amanda from above. She looked so peaceful down there, riding gently back and forth on the slight current.

  Andy reached out with one trembling fingertip to caress the surface of the water. Ripples spread out from his touch. Another tear fell, and he sighed until it seemed all the air had emptied from his lungs.

  In the next moment, he was inside the tank floating beside her, transformed. His body was a bit larger than Amanda's and the colors were different, but the shape was exactly the same. Amanda turned around to nudge him, closing her mouth around his dorsal fin, and then pulling away again playfully as she seemed to remember him. She dove and climbed and circled, fluttering the tips of her fins to invite him to follow.

  Andy mimicked her for a minute or two, but then he pulled away, drifting to the edge of the tank. His reflection floated, peaceful and secure, in the glass. The world outside seemed so detached from who he was in this body. He turned away and dove to the bottom of the tank, finding Amanda and spinning circles around her until he was tired enough to want to sleep.

  * * * *

  It had been almost two years since the discovery that he could change. His life hadn't been at a particularly illustrious point. Since getting the job writing articles for Interpedia—a step up from the series of temp jobs he'd occupied since university—sometimes he wouldn't leave the house for a week at a time—he'd stay up late watching movies in the living room, or wandering aimlessly online, then wake up mid-afternoon and work until dinner.

  Eventually, this led to more confrontations with his sister. They had never been close, even when their parents were alive; and no one was more surprised than Andy when Marsha volunteered to become his guardian. But while she had been in her twenties, and he was busy with high school, she was simply cold. Now, the more time he spent at home, the more actively she would insult and abuse him. He did his best to stay out of her way wherever possible, but she would seek him out to blame him for everything from her social life to the grass dying on the front lawn.

  Stuck between boredom and misery, Andy tried learning Japanese; he collected antique toys for a few months; he joined a role-playing group that fell into schism over whether or not the rules of Tolkien's Middle-Earth should be applied to a D&D campaign. Finally, on a rare excursion to a nearby mall, he wandered idly into a pet store and past the fish tanks.

  The tanks themselves might have been enough to entice him, with the comforting, burbling sound of water through their filters, and the wavering light refracted over his hands when he held them to the glass. But when you added Amanda to the equation, he was captivated. Something about the way she slid sleekly through the water without a care simply spoke to him, and he couldn't turn away.

  The ritual of it all comforted him: monitoring the pH balance, adding iron for the plants, carefully doling out the food. But what he loved most was sitting and watching Amanda swim—he could, and did, spend hours in front of the tank. He memorized each step of her underwater dance until he even thought he could read her moods, and she his. When he was upset, he would lay his palm gently against the side of the tank, hoping she would come over and flutter against the inside of the glass.

  And, thanks to Marsha, he was upset more and more often. It all came to a head one night when she invited some co-workers to dinner. Of course, she had instructed Andy to stay upstairs, but when the party moved to the living room, he tiptoed to the kitchen for a glass of water. When his hand slipped, and the glass shattered across the linoleum, he scrambled for the broom and dustpan; but before he could sweep up the evidence, she was there, friends in tow, to berate him where he knelt beside the shards. “Thank you so much, little brother. I knew I could count on you. You see,” she said over her shoulder, “just like I told you, I can't bring anyone home. I'd rather be dead.” She dragged him to his feet roughly. “Get out of here; I'll clean up, like always."

  By the time Andy made it up to his room, tears were streaming down his flushed cheeks, and his chest was heaving. What had he done to make her hate him so? He stumbled through the doorway, trembling, and sat in front of the aquarium.

  Amanda was at the bottom of the tank, searching for food among the bits of gravel. Andy envied the security of her world; he monitored the temperature precisely, he delivered the food. The water cradled her against any bumps or bruises. He longed to be a part of that world. He opened the lid and reached out, needing to at least dip his fingertips into the water for a moment.

  And suddenly, he was there. At first, he thought he had fallen into the water; but before he could try to lift his face from the tank, he realized he was fully beneath the surface, thrashing desperately back to the top for air—and then he realized he was breathing, that water was flowing perfectly in and out of his gills. This led to the discovery that he had gills, and finally to the realization that he had been transformed. Amazed, he wriggled his fins the way he'd watched Amanda move, and found himself propelled elegantly across the tank. He darted to her side, then away again, he glided and dove and turned somersaults, lost in the pure joy of the situation.

  It was hours before Andy thought again of the world outside, or wondered if he could change back. He could, and eventually he did—finding himself just as suddenly standing beside the tank in human form again, naked and slightly damp. He wrapped himself in a blanket and looked out into the hallway. The rest of the house was dark. For that night, at least, he had escaped.

  * * * *

  A soft chiming noise caused Andy to surface fitfully from sleep. He sat up, dazed, returning from dreams to who and where he was, and to what had happened the night before. He stumbled to the desk and the light of his monitor, where an IM message was waiting:

  Rayman62: Wake up, wake up, wherever you are.

  Andy smiled. He wiggled the mouse until the cursor was in the proper position and replied:

  angelboy: hey

  angelboy: I'm awake

  He could hear the faint syncopation of rain against the windowpanes. While he waited, he wrapped the blanket around his legs and belly.

  Rayman62: Good.

 
; Rayman62: Did you happen upon that breeding thread yet?

  "I replied to that,” Andy said out loud, but then realized that he hadn't. He switched to the still-open browser window, and there was his half-completed post, just where he'd stopped when Marsha had disturbed him. The page would have timed out by now, so he copied the text and reloaded the page.

  Just as he finished the reply, he heard a noise in the hallway and froze. He wondered if it was Marsha, coming for him again, and a wave of nausea rushed through his body. After a few tense moments, he decided it must have been the house settling, and he relaxed again in the chair.

  Rayman62: Are you still there, beautiful boy?

  angelboy: sorry.

  angelboy: it's been a rough day. just about to post, though.

  He switched windows again and hit the send button at the bottom. By the time the page refreshed and he could see his text had gone through, the IM window was blinking again.

  Rayman62: *hugs you tight* Do you want to talk?

  Andy sat there silently, reading the words. He read them again.

  Then he began typing; slowly at first, hitting enter after every few words, but eventually building to a flood of text stretching down the screen. He was weeping again long before the end. Meanwhile, the older man offered the occasional word of support, but for the most part he waited and let Andy say everything he needed to. By the end Andy sat shaking, feeling like he couldn't possibly get enough air into his lungs.

  Rayman62: I don't know what to say, darlin'. She sounds like a Grade-A premium bitch.

  angelboy: :(

  Rayman62: You should definitely talk to a lawyer.

  Rayman62: I just wish there were some way I could help.

  angelboy: you do. you've always been on my side. *hugs*

  The rain had stopped rattling against the windows. Andy got up and pulled the curtain back to look outside. Ice was forming on every possible surface, coating the street, the trees, recycling bins. Even the light from the streetlamp seemed to be a part of the same thing, as if it had solidified.

  Back at his desk, Andy refreshed his browser, but there were no replies to his post. He checked the IM window, wondering if he needed to write more, but just then a reply popped up:

  Rayman62: Andy ... *holds you close, burying my face in your hair*

  For several minutes, Andy sat with his eyes closed to the monitor's glow, as if staring into the sun. Something seemed to rise from deep within him, and he typed a reply without looking:

  angelboy: *leans in closer, kissing your chest*

  The room felt too warm now, and he unwrapped the blanket. He wasn't surprised at all when his hand brushed against his penis, fully erect. He opened his eyes:

  Rayman62: Yes, darlin’ ... I was hoping. *my palm sliding along your jaw line, lifting your face to mine and brushing my lips against yours*

  angelboy: *kissing you back, feeling my heart race*

  The conversation moved from there in the expected directions. It lasted through the night until the faintest beginnings of dawn were beginning to seep in through the curtains, and Andy's wrists and fingertips ached. He sat in the half-darkness, still stroking himself gently with one hand and typing with the other:

  angelboy: thank you for ... everything.

  Rayman62: It was my pleasure. I only hope you enjoyed it half as much. ;)

  And then Ray was offline. Andy lifted himself slowly from the chair, sweat prickling the backs of his thighs. Dragging the blanket behind him, he made his way back to the bed and collapsed into sleep.

  The phone woke him from dreams of swimming. He lay there, sheets twisted around him, and looked up at the clock on the wall. It was mid-afternoon.

  The phone continued to ring as he pulled himself out of bed and down the stairs. He crossed through the dining room, and only realized when he saw the curtains drawn wide that he was still undressed. He ran through to the kitchen.

  "I suppose you're just getting up now?"

  Andy leaned against the refrigerator, his body jittering with the motor's hum. “I was, umm, working on...” he stammered.

  "Whatever. The realtor is on her way with some people. They'll be there in a few minutes. I thought I had better call first.” Marsha's voice grew ominous.

  Andy slid down the front of the appliance, magnets flying in his wake. “Maybe we should talk about this. I mean—"

  "There's nothing to talk about. Just stay out of their way. And they'll be looking at your room, too, so clean up a little.” She hung up.

  The floor was cold against his bare skin. A few minutes. Andy jumped up and ran to the stairs, taking them two at a time, and dashed into his room. By the time he closed the door, he could hear a car in the driveway. He checked his computer briefly—no messages—and left a note at the forums for Ray: Hope I find you today ... things are getting worse.

  He heard a brief knock, and a voice calling, “Hello?” By the time the key turned in the lock, he was safe in the aquarium.

  He could barely hear them moving around the house from his refuge. The realtor did call his name just before they burst into his room, so he was somewhat prepared; but even then, he dived in among the long grasses as if they could somehow see through his disguise. “This is the brother's room,” she said, leading a couple in through the doorway. Blithely, the three of them poked through his drawers and into his closet. “Don't worry, the mess moves with him."

  Andy waited until he was certain that they had left the house, and then rose to the surface of the tank. Just as he was about to transform, he felt a sudden jolt from behind. He flipped around to find Amanda there, just as she shoved him again, pushing him forward against the glass. She backed off and then lunged again, trying to bite, her fins fluttering angrily. When she loomed close a third time, he switched back to human form.

  Panicked, Andy pressed his hand to the glass. “Amanda, girl. What's wrong?” For the first time, she seemed to make the connection between the fish that visited her tank and his large, shadowy human form. Repeatedly, she bashed her body against the barrier between them until Andy let his hand drop.

  He paced to his desk and away again, trying to think of some possible reason for Amanda's behavior. Of course, angelfish were an aggressive species, but if she hadn't attacked him early on, when he was still foreign to her, why now?

  Back at his computer, he returned to the Angel-care forums, searching down through every thread in the “Disease and Wellness” section. “It can't be the tank,” he murmured to himself. “I keep it perfect. And she doesn't act sick.” He moved on to Google, entering one search string after another after another, so anxious that he didn't hear when Marsha came home.

  "Oh, Christ,” her voice intruded. “I hope you had clothes on when they were here.” She stood by the door, a look of disgust on her face. Andy spun away from her in the chair until he heard her sigh angrily and march away to her own room. When she was gone, he turned back to the computer and continued to search.

  Marsha's footsteps clattered in the opposite direction, and she paused outside his door without opening it. “I'm going out for dinner. Don't eat anything good from the kitchen.” A minute later, the door slammed.

  Andy looked across the room at the fish tank. Amanda seemed to have calmed down again, so he allowed himself to relax slightly. He thought to check if Ray was online. His IM program was still running, but there were no messages. Opening a window showed the last few lines of their previous conversation, but that was all. He sent a few sentences, hoping that somehow they would conjure a response, and tried to pass the time in the forums. Just as he would turn around in his chair every so often to check on Amanda, every few minutes he checked again for any word, waiting desperately for the comfort of another conversation.

  He was still waiting at two a.m. when his sister came home. He heard her sigh theatrically outside his door, but she then continued to her room. After her door had closed, he tiptoed to the bathroom and back, fed Amanda, eliciting no response at al
l, and, after checking his computer one more time, fell into bed and a fitful night's sleep.

  Only a few hours later, his sister was banging on the door to wake him up. “I thought I should warn you to wear clothes today,” she snarled as she stepped inside. “There will be more people by. Really, I should warn them."

  Andy sat up, keeping the blanket tucked around him. Something in his desperation made him bold. “You can't sell our house. I'll get a lawyer to block it. It belongs to me, too."

  "Oh, don't even,” Marsha said, a savage gleam in her eye. “You're right. I'm going to need your signature to close a deal.” She leaned on the edge of the fish tank until it tipped up slightly, the water sloshing between the cracks in the lid. Unconsciously, Andy reached forward. “But that better not turn into a problem."

  Marsha let go suddenly, and the tank crashed back against the stand, slightly off center. Inside, the water rocked back and forth wildly. Andy lunged forward, clasping the blanket around his waist, pressing his palm against the glass to steady it. His sister laughed. “If you cross me on this, do you really want to live with me afterwards?"

  She left, pulling the door shut behind her. Slowly, Andy sank to his knees beside the aquarium, wrapping both arms around it to center it properly on the stand.

  As the water calmed, Amanda came to the front of the tank and stared out at him. Andy stared back, barely able to breathe, until she finally wandered away; and only then did he carefully open his arms. He pulled on clothing and sat down in his desk chair, but not until he turned to the computer did his eyes ever leave the tank.

  There were still no messages from Ray, and Andy started to worry. He had never done anything like this before; it was strange to be so intimate with someone, and then not have any way to track them down. He didn't even know Ray's full name to do a search.

  The realtor did come by several times that day. Andy finally had to meet her; he wasn't sure if Amanda was ready for his presence in the tank again. The first trip through the house, she poked her head into his room and said, “Now, I know you're busy, working from home and all.” She was a brash woman, with short black hair and a cheerful smile that only dipped slightly as she nudged at a pile of clothes with the polished toe of her pumps. “But maybe you could straighten up just a titch?” Each time she brought people through, she stopped before opening his door, and Andy could hear her whispering to the potential buyers.