Twisted Fayrie Tales

by Sally Odgers

  In between trying to work a little and checking repeatedly for messages, Andy sat on the edge of his bed and watched Amanda. He found himself wondering, for the first time, if she was happy in her confinement. To him, the tank was a safe, comforting place, but what if she didn't feel the same way? What if the changes in her behaviour were actually a cry for her release?

  That night, his sister didn't come home after work at all. Andy made himself sandwiches, carefully sweeping up the crumbs and rinsing the knife before putting it in the dishwasher. He sat at the dining room table to eat, looking around at the house. Every scar in the woodwork was a memory of some sort; even the hinges on the door reminded him of his father's guiding hand with the screwdriver as they did repairs. By the time he finished his cucumber and American cheese, his cheeks were wet with tears.

  Halfway up the stairs, he could hear the IM alert coming from his computer, and he ran for his room. He lunged into the chair so hard that he rocked forward, banging his knee against the edge of the desk; but as he rubbed it, he was already tapping the space bar to disturb the screensaver. For a moment, his heart leapt to see the blinking window that waited; but then he saw that it wasn't Ray at all:

  Mergrrl: hey, angelboy, how's things?

  Mergrrl: thanks for smoothing out that breeding thing. happens every time we get newbies.

  It was Rachel, another mod from the Angel-care forums. She had been the one who actually invited Andy to become a moderator, and they had chatted a few times. particularly about Rachel's job. She was the only one of them who actually worked with exotic fish; she ran a pet store in a neighboring city that focused primarily on aquariums. Andy hoped to visit it at some point.

  They typed back and forth a bit about the forums. Rachel updated him on the four tanks of angels that she kept at home, and he told her a little bit about Amanda's recent behavior. Between subjects, Andy tried to sound casual as he typed:

  angelboy: have you seen Rayman around?

  Automatically, he checked the forum page while he waited. There were no new messages. The IM window blinked again:

  Mergrrl: what are you looking for him for?

  Save for the filter in the tank, the whole house had fallen silent. Normally, there was always some slight sound; the house creaking as it settled, a car in the street outside. He could hear the tapping of the keys as he responded:

  angelboy: We were talking the other night, for a while, now I can't find him online.

  Mergrrl: yeah

  Mergrrl: he does that.

  angelboy: I just haven't seen him since.

  He closed his eyes for a moment. Sometimes at night, his senses seemed to extend into the very wood and brick of the house itself, as if they were one body. He reached out until he thought he could feel the windows rattle as the wind pressed against them, and beneath that, the entire structure pulsing slightly, rhythmically. It felt a little bit like being submerged in the tank.

  Mergrrl: since what?

  Now he could hear someone singing outside, a woman, obviously drunk. The house creaked, low and long, like a cat growling. He read Rachel's question again, trying to find some sort of reply; but then he felt the first faint vibration of steps over the boards of the front porch. He cringed.

  Mergrrl: are you okay?

  The front door burst open. “Hello, house!” Marsha cried. Andy could hear her stumbling across the room and a surprised exhalation as she collapsed on the couch. “Goodbye, house!” She turned on the TV, and the sound of sirens and serious male voices filtered up the stairway.

  Andy turned back to his computer, and what he read there made his stomach sink:

  Mergrrl: he's online now. he must be on invisible to you.

  He tried to tell himself that he didn't even know what she meant yet. Another message popped up:

  Mergrrl: this isn't the first time.

  He curled his toes into the carpet and tried not to shake. He checked his online IM contacts, and there was nothing. Then he refreshed the forum window, and there it was in the list of online users: Rayman62. Nervously, Andy clicked on the name and sent a private message, then returned to his chat with Rachel.

  angelboy: I don't know why he'd...

  In the middle of his thought, already he was hitting ‘Enter’ and switching back to his message box on Angel-care. He refreshed the page. The note he sent had been read, but there was no reply. He checked to be sure; Ray still showed as online in the user list. He hit refresh again in case a message had just been sent. And again. And again. He returned to his IM conversation:

  angelboy: what did you mean, this isn't the firlkdfgn?

  Halfway through the line, he smashed both his hands down on the keyboard, then turned and fell to the bed, sobbing. The room seemed to spin, as if he were drunk. He couldn't seem to breathe; he flashed back suddenly to struggling beneath the surface of the tank.

  At just that moment, his sister burst into the room. “There's my baby brother! How was your day of jacking off to porn and feeding your fish? Or was it the other way around?” She gripped the side of the door and almost fell as it swung further open. Her eyes were wide and glossy, and her tongue lolled over her teeth. She held a stack of papers, clipped together, and smacked them against the opposite hand for emphasis. “I'm drunk. But for a good reason! We—have got an offer—on the house!” She dropped the papers and almost fell retrieving them. “We get this offer looked at, sign the papers, and I'm out of this hellhole!"

  Andy rolled over on his stomach, facing the fish tank. “Fine,” he said without looking up. He focused on the flash of blue that was Amanda, and waited.

  Marsha's voice was unsteady. “Fine ... fine. You little shit. Ever since Mom and Dad decided to ruin my life by leaving me in charge of you, I've been waiting for this day. I could have had a degree, I could have had a husband, but no, I got you. And everyone said, ‘He's your brother, of course you love him, you're family.’ We may be family—” and here she began to reach back behind her for the door handle—"but I never loved you. Not for a minute.” She half-fell out the door, slamming it behind her.

  Andy waited patiently until she had stumbled down the hall, then he stood. Slowly, he opened the lid to the aquarium. The familiar scent of the water filled his nostrils. The surface shimmered like a mirage. He looked for Amanda with no small amount of trepidation; but she was off in a corner, nibbling at the greenery, paying no attention to him in the slightest. He closed his eyes and changed.

  The water surrounded him like a mother's arms, rocking him peacefully, supporting him as he drifted an inch below the surface. He realized that he was holding his breath and exhaled slowly. The feeling of water streaming between his gills was familiar and comforting now.

  He let the currents created by the filter's action guide him to the bottom of the tank. He could see flakes of food embedded in the gravel here and there; experimentally, he nibbled at one, then another. While he fed, gently stroking the floor of the tank with the delicate tips of his feelers, he felt at peace enough to let his thoughts drift back over the events of the past few days. From this vantage point, the anxiety and sorrow that had haunted him on the outside were muted, and he was able to think of both Marsha and Ray without too much distress.

  At least I have this, he thought. And Amanda. And as if hearing his thoughts, the other fish turned her golden-haloed eyes in his direction. She advanced toward him, opening and closing her mouth almost as if to speak. Andy waved his tail nervously and moved to one side, expecting her either to pass, or to immediately charge at him. Instead, she glided closer and closer, as if she were about to kiss him.

  And indeed, their lips did touch. But then she opened her jaws wider, locking them around Andy's, and thrashed her body until he was pulled backward. Eyes wide, he tried to retreat, but in this form he didn't have the strength to overpower her. Panic swept over him as realized that he was getting no oxygen at all, and he writhed wildly, pushing back with all his might. They twisted together across the bot
tom of the tank, clouding the water around them. Finally, just as Andy was wondering if a fish could pass out, Amanda let go.

  Good thing she couldn't breathe, either, he thought, his gills gaping wide, stunned at what had just happened. As oxygen began to flow again, Andy realized that he had read about this type of dominance play before. Somehow, the thought failed to reassure him, and he backed away nervously as Amanda moved toward him again. She pursued more and more aggressively, until she had him trapped near the deepest section of the greenery.

  Fearful and feeling dizzy, Andy finally gave in and changed back to human form. He dried himself with a discarded t-shirt, dressed, and collapsed into the desk chair. He rocked back and forth slowly across a few inches of the carpet.

  The computer chimed insistently, and he looked up to see his hollow-eyed reflection in the screen. A twitch with the mouse, and the IM window was visible again. Rachel was still online, having left a series of messages that became more and more anxious as he failed to reply. Fingers stiff, he replied slowly:

  angelboy: Sorry. Things happening here. Really.

  angelboy: Really bad day.

  He almost signed off and left it at that. But after a nervous glance over his shoulder at the fish tank, he continued:

  angelboy: Amanda's really worrying me.

  Mergrrl: how so?

  angelboy: well, it's getting worse...

  He had vaguely outlined the problems Amanda was having in their last conversation; now he went into more detail. He explained that he had been introducing a male angel to the tank in stages for some time now, and he described each of the recent changes in Amanda's behaviour.

  Mergrrl: I have some ideas, but I'd liketo do some research first. I mean, I'm not a professional.

  Mergrrl: and I'll talk to some people on AC

  Mergrrl: You could always bring her down here; I have a pretty good fish vet.

  Their conversation continued; but before long, his text was getting erratic and she gently suggested that he go to bed.

  Mergrrl: Everything looks better in the morning.

  angelboy: i hope so.

  The next day, Andy stayed in bed until noon, drifting in and out of sleep. He tried not to think, but his mind wouldn't stay still. He was starting to come to terms with selling the house; there didn't seem to be much he could do to stop it—though he had no idea at all how to find another place to live. And he knew there was nothing really to be gained from confronting Ray.

  But Amanda was what really worried him. Dozens of times they had swum together, played, floated for hours side by side—and now, he was wondering if he could ever take refuge with her again. He found himself burying his face in the pillow and sobbing at the thought.

  Finally, he got up and went to the bathroom to clean up for the day. Normally he took a shower, but he found himself putting the plug in the drain and running water into the tub. Gingerly, he sat against the cold porcelain and watched the water level rise, rushing around his feet and calves, but calm by the time it reached his hips. When it was high enough, he turned the faucet off, and watched his fingers drift back and forth across the surface. “I don't know what to do,” he said aloud, listening to the words echo back from the tiled walls.

  He dried off and walked slowly back to his room, as if he had almost forgotten the way and was relying on vague memories of direction. He sat at his desk, and realized that Marsha must have been in his room; the papers she had been holding the night before were waiting, folded back to a space for his signature.

  On the computer, the browser still displayed the Angel-care forums. Andy refreshed the page, and was informed that a message had arrived in his absence. It was from Rachel, and the subject line stated, This may be it.

  Slowly, he read through the message several times, absorbing each word. When he was finished, he stood up and paced in circles around the room, each time stopping beside the fish tank for a moment, then continuing.

  Finally he stopped beside the tank, his heart racing, and didn't move on. He opened the lid gently. He had to know. Without a moment's hesitation, he transformed.

  He descended to the bottom of the tank. Amanda was deep in the same section of greenery that had been the site of their last confrontation, and Andy approached carefully. As he got close, he could see that she was darting and circling around a flat rock that was half-buried in the gravel.

  Amanda spotted him suddenly and rushed over, pecking at the top of his head. Andy allowed himself to be forced down through the moss, closer to the rock. And there, just as he had hoped, were row upon row of gelatinous, oval, darkly luminescent eggs. They caught the light like a constellation, twinkling with the flow of the water over them.

  Amanda nudged him, gently now, expectantly. He knew the eggs would never hatch if they were not fertilized. This is a lot different from using my gills, he thought hesitantly.

  But she nudged him again, and he moved closer, certain that he would find his way.

  That night, when Marsha came home, the signed papers were waiting in the center of the dining room table, along with a note:

  I decided you were right. It's time to move on. I took the things that were important to me, do what you want with the rest.

  My friend Rachel will be coming tomorrow for the fish tank.

  Sorry I made a mess of your life.

  She read the note several times over, leaning heavily against the back of a chair. When she was done, she walked slowly up the stairs to Andy's room, trailing her hand along the railing. The door was closed; she opened it carefully, half-expecting some sort of retaliation, some trick.

  But the room was empty and immaculately clean. Andy's clothes and a few personal items were piled on the bed; at the desk, all the computer cords were wound up and carefully stacked to one side. The only trace of his personality was the fish tank, still standing beside the door, the filter whirring quietly.

  Marsha sat on the foot of the bed and looked through the glass. “When did he get another fish?” she said to herself, reaching out to stroke the smooth surface.

  She watched them swim for a long time. When she finally stood up, the trail of a single tear down her cheek glistened in the reflected light.

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  I Holler Oh Hot Dog

  By

  Jane Toombs

  Whorls of red and gold swirled about my head, rings of color shrinking and tightening until I jerked in painful spasms, Someone grasped my shoulders hard. I thought gratefully it must be Shimo or Franks waking me from this nightmare of color and pain.

  I opened my eyes. My head throbbed as the hovering faces blurred and shimmered beyond recognition. “Franks?” I croaked.

  A gabble of words fell on me, none making any sense. Blinking, I tried to sit up, fighting nausea and dizziness. A flash of the real nightmare froze me in place—the Cormorant out of control, the warning scream of the ship's siren fading as the lights went, the ship's drive failed, then the air...

  I staggered to my feet. Where was I? “Franks!” I yelled. “Shimo!"

  Thee-fingered hands plucked at me. Aliens! I fumbled for my deteray, not finding the familiar grip in my belt sheath. Not finding my belt. Or my pants. Bile rose in my throat as I stared into crimson eyes. I struggled with panic. Concees. I'd been captured by Concees.

  In my futile fight to stay on my feet, I caught a glimpse of crumpled remains—what remained of the Cormorant—before the press of bodies closed off the view. Their long thin fingers pinched my flesh like crab claws. Smoke drifted from the crash site and the reek of burning combined with the baleful red eyes of the Concees made me feel like a damned soul in an illustration of hell from one of those ancient religious books.

  Once I was down, they had me spread-eagled in seconds, holding me so I couldn't move. I stared defiantly at the one who knelt beside me. Humanoid, part of my mind noted. Two arms, two legs, knees, elbows. But alien. Obscenely alien.

  Word circled in my mind from an ancient ditty
Franks used to sing about someone's lover who had a face like a fish, shape like a frog. Then something about her loving him so good he hollered, “Oh, hot dog.” Never did understand that song. It made less sense than ever as I warily eyed beings who looked very much like that.

  While they all gabbled, I howled in pain as the kneeling one's probing fingers yanked and pinched in very private places. “Damn you demons!"

  I craned my neck, desperate to see if his other hand held a knife. But the Concee gave me one final tweak and then stood. He raised both hands above his head. Along with the three fingers on each was a grotesquely elongated thumb.

  Everyone shut up. He pointed with his thumb and another Concee approached to kneel beside me. All wore a single green fur-like garment, making them look identical to me. The one he'd summoned undid the top of this garment to expose two small breasts. The action shocked me. Until now I'd not thought any of them as mammals, much less female.

  A roar went up, the Concees holding me down let go, and by the time I'd scrambled to my feet, they were dispersing. All except the female who'd exposed herself. She stood next to me, only centimeters shorter.

  "Xi,” she said, refastening her garment. “Xi.” She repeated, touching her chest.

  "Yeah, me Tarzan,” I muttered, looking around for my pants. No sign of them..

  "Yametzan?” she said.

  I reached out and tugged at her garment. “Clothes?” I asked, pointing to myself and pantomiming dressing. If you're used to wearing them, it's easier to face fate with your pants on.

  Unless I'd read that head Concee wrong, he'd just donated me to Xi. I'd escaped dismemberment for the moment, but I didn't overrate my chances for survival among these aliens.

  Xi held out her three-fingered hand, and, after a moment's hesitation I took it. Her flesh was firm and a tad rubbery, almost bronze in color. She led me around a rocky outcropping to a leathery looking bundle and pulled out a long tunic similar to hers. I draped it around myself as best I could, and found it more sophisticated than it appeared. The green nap was no fur; the garment was manufactured, not torn from some weird green animal. I saw no fasteners, but the edges stayed together once closed.