Beyond the Firefly Field

by Munzing, R. E.

  SanDroMonEnLor quickly smiled, and a twinkle of merriment frosted with mischief glimmered in his eyes. “I apologize for the brief interruption. I help the very young hover in the air while I spiral about, telling my stories, making it more difficult and tiring for me. If the young ones start to lose their position in relation to mine, I give them a boost until they eventually forget they didn’t know how to stay airborne for long periods. It’s how they learn.”

  As he spoke, the old fairy bent and stretched until his bones popped. He cradled a hand on his hip and groaned as he leaned backward. “Never be a life form, I always say,” he complained, followed by more groaning.

  “You’ve been saying that for thousands of years,” MarJoReAn shot back.

  “How would you know?”

  “I read it in an Egyptian history book three thousand years ago,” she replied, then walked up to the old fairy and hugged him warmly.

  As they hugged, he protested, “Stop it, you silly girl, you’ll break my brittle bones.” He winked at Clayton. “Didn’t you hear them ripping out of their sockets?”

  “They were finally settling back in place,” she countered. “You’ve got to stop sitting in the dark with your old friends for hundreds of years at a time; you need to get out more. It’s not healthy to stay in the dark for such a long time.”

  “Yes, yes, you’re right,” he agreed, winking at Clayton again.

  MarJoReAn shrugged her shoulders and walked a short distance away.

  “So, SeeLee, you got caught this time,” the old fairy noted without any reprimand in his voice. “I remember the first time it happened to your mother. You know, we need to see humans more often. Maybe the time has come for open communication and interaction between us. Or will we be too much of an oddity that humans won’t leave us alone to live in peace amongst them?”

  “Is that what you’ve been talking about for hundreds of years?” MarJoReAn accused.

  “It’s a topic that comes up from time to time, but there are other matters far more demanding.”

  Clayton wondered what could possibly be more important to discuss than being able to interact freely with humans. It would be an historic, epoch event for both species. It would be the best!

  “How fares the planet, young humans?” SanDroMonEnLor asked, nodding at them with interest as he interrupted Clayton’s thoughts. The young humans stood frozen.

  Finally, Karl spoke up. “We seem to be ruining our planet at an ever-increasing pace. We’re polluting the land, water, and air. A sun-shielding layer of the atmosphere is dissolving. The ice caps are melting, and we’re cutting down the rain forests,” he added quickly to finish his confession with a lowered head.

  “So you do indeed bring warnings,” the old fairy said. He seemed to slump under the burden of it all. “The peepers bring us all sorts of information, but they can’t seem to tell reality from the imaginary. Now you’ve made it clear that dangers from afar may be more disastrous than the ones that are near.”

  The old fairy sighed, then continued. “We came to this land a thousand years ago because it was a perfect and unspoiled wilderness. We found ourselves surrounded by the largest amount of fresh water in the world. Now we can taste the bitterness in the water and smell acidic foulness in the air. Whatever happened to the original humans of the forest? They were supposed to show the white humans how to live here.”

  Phil spoke up. “We always seemed to be at war with them, so we chased them away. The first white settlers and the Native Americans—that’s what we call them—frequently fought. Then, many white people came over here from Europe, and the Native Americans were overwhelmed and pushed aside. Much of their way of life was taken away.” He turned red with embarrassment.

  “That’s too bad. I really loved those people. Camping, hunting, fishing—such a wonderful life. They did very little harm to the land, and they should have taught the white people how to live with all in nature that’s good. Don’t you humans like camping, hunting, and fishing?” the old fairy asked accusingly.

  “Oh, yes!” Paul piped up. “Our parents work fifty weeks a year so we can take two weeks of vacation and do that stuff.”

  Now the old fairy looked really confused. He shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes. “You don’t quite get the concept. You should have let the Native Americans teach you. I was afraid other civilizations would bring their way of living to this land. I just assumed they couldn’t survive here. I do have to come out of the tree more often. I can see that now.” SanDroMonEnLor seemed to be talking to himself, as if to justify some lapse of responsibility.

  With a little more grumbling, he walked slowly toward the trunk of the tree and asked the group to join him.

  “Many thousands of years ago, long before I was born—”

  “There was time before you were born, Grandfather?” SeeLee interrupted, then shrunk back as he raised an eyebrow in her direction.

  “Ahem, a long time ago, surviving was very difficult. We were the smallest of the humans, but we were very clever at trapping animals, birds, and fish for food. Other species followed us around to steal what we caught, or to eat us, so we were forced to become very fast, efficient, and particularly good at hiding in small places. Humans, goblins, trolls, orcs, and many other horrible creatures preyed upon us and stole our food stocks. Most of those other species became extinct before humans started recording history, so you have no names for those people, or say little about how they lived and bullied so many of us. Every species that survived continued to chase us for our food.

  “Eventually, only the smallest and fastest of us survived, and we grew—or ungrew—small enough to run up tree trunks, run along the branches, and jump from tree to tree.

  “We were always on the move, so we acquired few possessions. We learned how to build suitable shelters quickly, if we happened to find a secluded safe spot, that is. We stopped being killed as often after developing our new skills, but we still continued to get smaller and faster.

  “After many eons, we could leap great distances between branches, and we eventually realized that we were actually levitating most of the distance. For thousands of years, we imagined growing wings to explain the wing-like growths sprouting from our shoulders, which were caused from being hunched-over and scared all the time. As time passed, we kept getting smaller, and the growths kept getting larger. They seemed to be a way for our bodies to get rid of the excess energy in our electromagnetic fields caused by being so frightened. Eventually, the growths developed to become the wings you see today.

  “We wandered from spot to spot to avoid the growing populations of other species. Over thousands of years, humans killed most other species in competition for food and the best livable areas. This allowed human and fairy societies to flourish. For a long time, we lived peacefully with humans on Atlantis until the island was swallowed by water. Then we existed peacefully—well, mostly peacefully—in China, then Persia, Egypt, Greece, and Rome.”

  “Mostly?” Penny questioned.

  “Well, no matter where we lived, every few hundred years or so, humans would blame us for something and chase us away. Not enough rain? Blame the fairies. Too much rain? Blame the fairies. Earthquake? Blame those fairies again. Volcano erupts? Fairies. Cow died? Yes, it’s those horrible fairies. The humans always blamed us for something.

  “Then, around a thousand years ago, we came to this land on Viking ships, as Europe had become too populated and overrun by plagues. We only escaped because we had gotten so good at running from everything. We were forced to split into many small groups to make our escapes easier. Some of the groups were touched by the plagues and had very sick fairies cloistered with them. The bad sickness spread through fairy colonies quickly, killing most of their population. The groups that couldn’t keep up in our migration to safety were left behind. We never found out what happened to them. We assume they all died, but there still might be a fairy colony or two in Europe.” The old fairy said this last sentence hopefully w
ith a hint of sadness in his voice.

  Clayton thought the event that caused the fairies to flee a continent was probably an epic story. He pictured them in one of their secluded trees, happily avoiding detection, only to be chased away by an invisible army of microbes. The fairies had always known how to flee, and accepted it as inevitable, but they also always knew when it was safe to stop. It was no wonder they put an ocean between them and this new enemy.

  As he walked along, he wondered what would happen if the old fairy told that epic story? Would the pictures in his wings show his actual memories?

  The old fairy continued, “We heard stories of a land surrounded by large, freshwater lakes, so we migrated to live. We learned to love this land. We learned the languages of the people and lived peacefully with them. We found that our cultures had many things in common. We both kept our lives simple and our possessions few. On the other hand, we learned that the white peoples placed possessions in high regard and measured success by what one acquired.

  “Our peeper fairies tell us that these possessions have now become more complex and time-consuming to manage, and their owners never realize they are being possessed by the things they have. These things now require time to learn to operate, and even more time is needed for maintenance. Then more time and energy are needed to fix possessions when they break.

  “The peepers say humans spend time at jobs as a way to get money to buy the things that control them. Finally, more time on the job is needed for money. Then that money buys entertainment and diversions to bring relief from all the time spent working at jobs and maintaining possessions. I don’t understand it. The peepers’ reports are filled with strange things these days,” he said with a sigh.

  “All throughout our history, our existence was in danger. To survive, we had to adopt strict measures. Every fairy is obligated to provide for his needs, always with the goal of survival. Everyone must continuously do things to make it easier to live in the future. Everyone has an obligation to help their family group prosper. All in the group must do things for its future success. Another obligation exists for the continuation of one’s circle of friends, tribe, or community. A certain amount of time must be spent to ensure survival of others, and a sacrifice of self or family might be required for the good of all. Beyond that, every fairy is obligated to survive and thrive as a species. In this survival group, everyone must help.

  “Not everyone can come up with wonderful new ideas or inventions, so that’s not expected. However, everyone does have an obligation to keep from ruining the environment for those who come after. These are obligations we gradually adopted as a way of life thousands of years ago. It seems humans are ignorant of these obligations, and are placing their own future survival in jeopardy and doubt.” The old fairy shook his head with a dejected sigh, and sadness once again filled his voice.

  “The obligation thing sounds reasonable. Why aren’t we doing it?” Penny asked while slowly walking beside the old fairy and still holding SeeLee’s hand.

  “I think it’s an ignorance thing. Or maybe selfishness or greed takes over and gets in the way of fulfilling obligations. Everyone just wants to find their comfort zone and stay there,” the old fairy explained.

  “It’s not entirely the fault of humans. A long time ago, while fairies were searching for safe spots, humans stood their ground and battled the other species for dominance. Many horrible creatures were wiped out, but those battles took a devastating toll on humanity. Instead of developing culturally, civilized and compassionate humans spent thousands of years focused on wars with frightful creatures just to survive.

  “Even now, the peepers say humans are fighting each other all over the world, for lack of fighting the common enemy they shared in ancient times. Children pay the highest price for war efforts—they always have. They don’t have the luxury of being warmly nurtured from infancy to adulthood, but are raised in the harsh reality always present in a culture at war. Whenever someone is just raised instead of nurtured, negative side effects can pile up by the time adulthood grants independence.”

  “What kind of negative side effects?” Karl and Clayton asked at the same time.

  “What’s the difference between raised and nurtured?” Penny followed right after them.

  “The side effects of just raising a child can be many, from personal dislikes, to aches and pains, or even a generally foul, grumpy mood. Most people don’t know the underlying reasons for their traits or outlooks and think it’s just how things are supposed to be.”

  Then, turning to Penny, the old fairy continued, “Nurturing is a way of providing care and protection to a newborn based on what the newborn needs or can experience without harm. Raising tries to do the same thing, but it is based on convenience for the one doing the raising. It often includes ignorance or misunderstanding about what a newborn child really needs.”

  The old fairy took a few steps on air before the branch had curved away from him. One of his wings gave a partial twitch upward, and he casually drifted back to the branch.

  “Over the ages, harsh conditions forced raising instead of nurturing of their young. Even now, an enormous amount of damage can be amassed before one is old enough to develop a mature thinking process. Minds are very complicated and can become very tangled in the growing-up process.”

  “Can they become untangled?” Brian interrupted.

  “Yes, fortunately, they can,” SanDroMonEnLor said as he nodded to a fairy passing by. All along their path, fairies had been parting to let them pass.

  “I have a story about our history to tell you before we go inside the tree,” the old fairy said as he continued at a snail’s pace.

  Clayton figured it would be a long story because the tree trunk seemed pretty far away.

  The old fairy started his story with, “A long, long time ago…”

  Clayton’s mind, however, kept wandering as the old fairy rambled on and on about fleeing enemies, fighting back, or being killed. He reviewed everything he had learned about the fairies. They weren’t at all like those in any book he’d read or movie he’d seen.

  He looked again at the knife throwers’ branch. All his life he had thought of fairies as gentle, dainty, helpless imaginary creatures. The real fairies had shattered that image and could become quite aggressive. They excelled at war games and would use poison-tipped arrows and knives, if necessary, to defend their community. Even female fairies excelled at weaponry. They still practiced the deadly arts, and he wondered who their enemies were.

  Almost immediately he realized that only humans could pose a major threat. He shuddered to think that the knife throwers and archers were practicing to kill humans. If there were as many fairies as there were humans, he doubted humans would survive a war between the two. He was glad there were so few fairies, so a war would never be possible.

  Their walk along the branch brought them to the tree trunk as the old fairy’s tale ended. SeeLee’s parents had excused themselves at the story’s beginning, and her friends left shortly after. They had probably heard it told many times before. As a last ditch effort to be excused, LeeLan and MarLan had even offered to carry the shoulder bags, wood boxes, and knife sashes back to the branch.

  The adventurers stopped at a door in the trunk. The door blended into puffy bark rising above where the branch joined the trunk. A small fairy had pushed the door open from the inside. He had seen hundreds of fairies by now. They all wore happy expressions on their faces. They smiled and laughed easily, and were friendly to all they encountered—humans, insects, or each other. There was a sense of peace and contentment about them, whether they were busy with a task or spending time alone. Untroubled sleep lured them after the evening’s fellowship celebration ended. The next day, the process would begin all over again, each fairy excited to welcome the new day. Strangely, though, the fairy opening the door didn’t share a joyful expression at all.

  The old fairy was about to say something when the door-opening fairy interrupted. Lookin
g intently at SanDroMonEnLor, the fairy whispered in an urgent tone, “They stir. You are needed below right away.”

  After seeing only joy and happiness exuding from their fairy friends, it was upsetting to see this fairy filled with worry and anxiety. He had the look of a startled animal ready to run for cover. When he saw the humans, he gave a weak smile, barked a hollow hello, then quickly excused himself and went back into the tree. Clayton felt uneasy at the brief encounter. The seriousness of the unknown and mysterious happening seemed so out of place with everything else in this magical wonderland.

  SanDroMonEnLor turned to SeeLee and said, “Show our friends around inside. I must go see what stirs.”

  Facing the group, he said, “I enjoyed meeting you and look forward to seeing you many more times.” With that, he headed into the tree, muttering to himself.

  After taking a few steps past the door, Clayton could see the ceiling of the carved tunnel getting higher and darker, then opening into an enormous cavern ahead. Having been inside the tree earlier, he knew they were getting smaller as they marched on, and he wondered how long it would take the others to notice their diminishing size.

  Nobody seemed to care until Brian demanded, “Now how small am I?” As he said this, the meaning dawned on the others, and expressions of astonishment crossed their faces.

  “Same size as before,” Clayton quickly assured him. “You’re a little taller than me,” he added, enjoying the confusion on Brian’s face.

  “Very funny,” Ron said. “If that cavern ahead is as big as it looks, then we’re only about a quarter-inch tall.”

  A wall-mounted dish piled with sprinkles dimly lit the tunnel they were navigating. The old fairy was just a few steps in front of them, shuffling in a slow and deliberate pace. Without warning, a small, tan creature dropped onto the old fairy from the darkness above.

  Responding to the attack, SanDroMonEnLor’s agility belied his age. His body lurched away from the descending creature, and his arm swung to fend it off. Even more quickly, the nimble creature used the swinging arm as a springboard.