A Fairy's Guide to Disaster

by A W Hartoin

  I circled the woman’s head until I found Gerald tangled in a nest of soft brown curls. A strand encircled his neck. His face was turning from bright red to a hideous blue. He tugged at it, straining and kicking. I forced my hands under the strand. Its fine texture bit into my palms as I pulled at it.

  Gerald’s arms flayed about. He kicked me in the stomach. I clung to the strand, trying to get my breath back.

  “Stop struggling,” I gasped.

  But Gerald was too terrified to hear. He kicked and grabbed at me. I positioned my feet beside Gerald’s torso and yanked on the strand. My hands burned, but I closed my eyes and pulled harder. The strand gave a bit and I opened my eyes in time to see an enormous hand coming toward us. The woman stuck her fingers under her thick hair and fluffed it. Gerald rocketed up, dragging me with him. The woman’s pinkie grazed Gerald’s head and he fell limp. The strand stretched and broke. We tumbled down, landing on the woman’s shoulder. Gerald started sliding over the edge, his face slack and mouth open. I scrambled over the edge after him and managed to snag his hand before he fell. I heaved him back up onto the woman’s shoulder and held him around the middle.

  “Gerald,” I said. “Wake up.”

  Gerald groaned, but didn’t open his eyes.

  “Iris!” I dug my nails into the fabric, but we kept sliding.

  Gerald lifted. Iris had him by the arm. Her wings flapped frantically, blowing my hair out of my face. The woman turned and stepped away, leaving us hovering with Gerald suspended between us.

  “Get to the mantel,” said Iris between clenched teeth.

  When we reached the mantel, Gerald’s body hit the side of the shelf. The pain jolted him to consciousness. He caterwauled as we pulled him up and over the edge.

  “Are you trying to kill me?” he asked as the three of us collapsed on the mantel shelf.

  “Maybe later,” I said.

  Horc picked up one of my bloodied hands and examined it. “Why didn’t you leave him? You hurt yourself.” His forehead furrowed and he looked genuinely puzzled.

  “Wood fairies aren’t like that,” I said.

  “I want to be a wood fairy,” said Horc.

  “What do you want me to do? Wave a magic wand or something?”

  “Give me a bath. Wood fairies don’t stink,” said Horc.

  “I’ll get right on that.” I rolled over and saw Iris with Easy looking over the edge of the shelf.

  “Get back!” I yelled. “Haven’t you learned anything?”

  “Come look,” she said.

  “Every time you say that it’s a bad thing.”

  “Please come look, Matilda,” said Iris, her eyes big and pleading.

  “Fine, but if I get attacked by hair, it’s on you.”

  I stood up and looked at the room spread out before me, still and quiet. Warm sunshine slanted in from a row of windows to my right. The red walls changed color in the sun and took on an orange tint. I’d never seen that color before, so rich and inviting. The mantel’s mahogany looked well against it as if the woman had known and painted the walls just to suit it.

  Next to the mantel, a set of black shelves piled with candlesticks and books clung to the wall. Titles like The Poems of Robert Service, Dinosaurs, Gone with the Wind, and Phrase and Fable called out to me. In the room, a short table was stacked with more books and papers. Next to the table were dark brown chairs, thickly padded and shiny. A large cream-colored chair sat in the middle, too big to be a chair and could’ve seated three humans at least. Under the table and chairs lay a thick oriental rug, swirling with intricate designs and exotic shapes. Grandma Vi told me rugs like that used to be in Whipplethorn Manor when she was young. The rug lay on a gleaming hardwood floor much like the one in the formal dining room, although the planks weren’t nearly so wide.

  Past all these things, I saw a small dining table in a room just beyond. Maybe it was a kitchen with cabinets enclosing the room on three sides. The cabinets were honey-colored oak, not especially carved, but interesting just the same. The bottom cabinets had a shiny top on them that looked like granite. Another table sat in the middle of the room with more granite on top. It shone like ice in winter. On two of the walls, big metal boxes sat huge and equally shiny. I couldn’t imagine what they contained. If we stayed awhile, maybe we’d get to find out.

  Then I checked myself. I wanted the mantel to go back to Whipplethorn. Even as I thought this, a little niggling thought emerged in the back of my mind. The house was quite pleasant and warm. There were books and rugs and who knew what. Whipplethorn Manor seemed rather stark in comparison. I forced the thought out of my mind. No place could be better than Whipplethorn. No place had anything better to offer.

  “Matilda, you have to look. Come on.” Iris’s face glowed with excitement and I began to get curious.

  I crept over to the side, where Iris was crouching, and looked over, a little afraid that a mass of hair might sweep us away. Looking up at me was the strangest pair of animals I’d ever seen.

  “Aren’t they adorable?” Iris clapped her hands.

  “I don’t know what they are.” I stared the animals. Were they some kind of miniature bear? If I hadn’t seen their sides moving, I might’ve thought they were stuffed.

  “They’re dogs,” said Gerald as he looked over.

  “Dogs?” I asked. “Dogs don’t look like that. Where are their eyes?”

  Iris pointed. “That one has eyes.”

  True enough. The one on the left did have eyes, although they were exceptionally small compared to the head. Furrows of skin covered the body and two tiny ears were perched on either side of the head. Long droopy lips concealed the mouth and short bristly whiskers poked out of its snout. As weird as it was, it made the other one look ridiculous. Its fur was longer and the wrinkles were so heavy, they covered the eyes completely. The ears were even smaller. I stared at it. How could that be a dog? It couldn’t hunt or dig anything up.

  “I think they know we’re up here,” said Iris.

  “They don’t look smart enough to know anything,” said Gerald.

  “It’s not about smart,” said Iris. “They can smell us.”

  “If they can smell us, they might want to eat us.” Gerald jumped up and down, waving his arms. “Go away. We’re not lunch.”

  Both animals jumped to their feet and wagged their curly tails.

  “They are dogs,” said Iris.

  Easy clapped his hands and even Gerald looked pleased. I wasn’t so sure. Being in a house with ginormous dogs didn’t seem like the best idea.

  Iris looked over at me, her face flushed and shiny. “Can you believe it? We have pets.”

  “They’re not our pets.” Gerald’s eyes bugged out of his head. “They’re monster dogs. You could fit in one of their nostrils easy.”

  Iris ignored him. “I always wanted a pet. Can I touch them?”

  I opened my mouth to shout no, but Iris had already shoved Easy into my arms. She dove off the mantel towards the monster dogs that now had their mouths open in anticipation.

  CHAPTER 15

  “THIS is insane.” Gerald dangled his feet off the edge of the mantel’s shelf next to Easy. They both looked down with covert longing.

  For once, I agreed with him. The situation screamed insanity, but at the same time I couldn’t help feeling happy about it. Below us, Iris lay draped across a dog’s snout, giving it a good scratch. Both dogs’ tails wagged in unison and they didn’t seem to be a threat. I probably should’ve gone down there and dragged Iris back to safety. That’s what my parents would’ve expected, but I couldn’t do it. Iris just looked so happy.

  “What kind of dogs are they?” I asked Gerald.

  “I don’t know, but they’re pretty fancy. I wish I had my dad’s books.”

  “Your dad has a lot of books?”

  “Dozens. And he lets me read any one I want.” Gerald straightened and threw back his shoulders.

  “So that’s how you know so much,” I said.
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  Gerald slumped and picked at a hang nail on his thumb. “It hasn’t done us much good, has it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You heard the commander. I can’t do anything.”

  “That’s not what he said.”

  “Well, that’s what he meant,” said Gerald.

  A faint stink rolled over us as Horc toddled up. Gerald coughed and scooted away. Easy tried to take advantage of the opportunity and attempted to leap off the mantel to the dogs. I snagged his diaper and pulled him away from the edge.

  “Hungry,” said Horc.

  I divided our last fruit leather between the babies and Gerald. Horc finished his piece in two bites and held out his hand for more. I’d have to go inside the mantel and see what food we had left and I didn’t want to. The damage had to be worse after the last move and it pained me to think about it.

  Easy started chirping at Horc. Horc crossed his arms and turned up the lump he called a nose.

  “What’s Easy saying?” I asked.

  “I’m hungry,” said Horc.

  “He still has his fruit leather.”

  “No,” said Horc, pointing to himself. “I’m hungry.”

  “I know. I’ll find you something. Now what’s Easy going on about?”

  “I want lots.”

  “Fine.”

  “He says he smells something,” said Horc.

  I sniffed and caught the scent of something not entirely unfamiliar. “What’s that?”

  Gerald smiled as wide as his narrow face would allow. “Smells kind of like my mom’s flatbread, but different.”

  “I’ll go check it out. Bread would be awesome.”

  “No, wait,” said Gerald. “I hear someone. I think the woman’s back and she’s not alone.”

  All my good feelings disappeared. What if the woman sold the mantel? Stranger things had happened. We might be on the move again.

  “Iris! Come back up!”

  Iris shook her head and continued to scratch the dog.

  “Gerald, go get her and don’t take no for an answer,” I said.

  Gerald plunged off the mantel out of sight. I carried Easy back away from the edge and told Horc to sit beside him. Gerald returned with Iris, who carried a dog hair twice her height.

  “I’m sorry,” said Iris, brandishing the hair like a sword. “I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t hear.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing we have Gerald.” I gave Iris a wink.

  “They’re coming in the front door, I think,” said Gerald.

  The dogs jumped up and shot out of the room, slipping on the hardwood. The woman came around the corner carrying fabric bags with the dogs following close at her heels. She yelled over her shoulder. “We’re behind. I don’t want to hear any whining.”

  Two children dashed into the room, lugging backpacks and shoving each other. I sat up straighter when I saw them. Children. I never considered that there might be children living in the house. The boy looked about my age. He wore baggy pants and a black shirt with a skull and crossbones on it. The girl was much smaller, maybe seven or eight. Her features mirrored the woman’s, delicate and pretty, but the expression on her face was anything but delicate as the boy bolted past her, knocking her into a wall.

  “It’s not my fault. Dufus forgot his algebra book.” The girl rummaged around in her backpack.

  The boy brushed a fringe of light brown hair out of his eyes and scowled at his sister.

  “Mom, I got an A on my spelling test,” she said, thrusting the paper at her mother.

  “Excellent,” said her mom.

  The boy pulled a piece of paper out of his backpack. “So what? I got one hundred plus two bonus words.”

  “It’s not my fault Miss Cortier doesn’t give us bonus words,” said the girl.

  “I still have a higher percentage.”

  “Okay,” said their mom as she dumped one of the bags on the stone table. “You both got As. One A isn’t better than the other.” She eyed the boy until he looked away.

  “Here’s my test,” he said.

  His mom waved it away. “Judd, give me second, will you?”

  Judd shrugged. “I’m hungry. What’s to eat?”

  “Dirt,” said his mother, wrinkling her nose and smiling. “And lots of it, mostly dragged in by you.”

  “Mom,” whined Judd. “I’m starving.”

  “Have a yogurt.”

  “How many?”

  “One, Judd. One yogurt,” said his mother.

  “Yeah,” said the girl. “Stop eating everything.”

  “Quiet, Tess.” Their mother stood up and began putting away the rest of the stuff from the bag into the cabinets I noticed earlier.

  Judd opened the tall metal box and got a couple of small containers. He tossed one to his sister. She placed it on the table without looking at it. Instead, she looked in the direction of the mantel. For a second, I thought Tess saw us until I realized that Tess couldn’t possibly see us all the way across the room even if she was capable of seeing fairies.

  “Mom, what’s that?” Tess asked, pointing at the mantel.

  “The new mantel I just bought. What do you think?”

  Tess walked across the room, her eyes roving over the mantel’s many details. “It’s really pretty. And big.”

  “I know. It’s bigger than I expected, but fits perfectly,” said the mom.

  Tess disappeared from view and I crept to the edge, peering over to see her. She ran her fingers over the mantel’s carvings, tracing the fleur de lis, oak leaves, and columns made so long ago. She looked up and caught me in her pale blue gaze that mirrored my own. She raised a finger to the mantel’s shelf and I jumped back.

  “What’s she doing?” asked Gerald.

  “Just looking,” I said.

  Tess’s voice came from below the shelf. “Are we keeping it, Mom?”

  “Of course. Now hurry up and eat your snack. We have to go to your brother’s practice,” said her mom.

  She turned around, opened a white box and pulled out a metal container. A wonderful smell drifted across the room to the mantel and I groaned.

  “That smells so good,” said Iris.

  “No kidding.” Gerald licked his lips and rubbed his hands together.

  The mom turned the metal container upside down and a brown rectangle popped out. “I’ll just let the bread cool while we’re gone. Judd, grab your cleats.”

  “I don’t want to go,” said Tess, still next to the mantel. “Can’t I go to Great Grandma’s?”

  “Not today.” Their mom herded her kids out of the red room, both protesting, Tess because she didn’t want to go and Judd because he was still hungry. When they were gone, the silence surprised me. Humans really fill up a room. The dogs trotted back to the mantel, sat, and tilted their muzzles up, waiting for another scratch. Iris waved her dog hair at them.

  “Stay here,” I said. “I’ll see if I can get some of that bread.

  Gerald spread his wings. “No way. I want to go.”

  “Me, too,” said Iris, dropping the hair.

  “I’m going,” said Horc.

  Easy chirped and stared at Horc. Horc crossed his arms. “Apparently, I am now that baby’s translator. He says he wants to go, too.”

  My mouth watered and I could hardly stop myself from flying to the bread straight away. “Fine. Gerald, come here and help carry Easy.”

  “I can help you with Horc, if you want,” said Gerald.

  “You’d rather carry Horc than Easy?”

  “No. I just thought I’d help you.” Gerald fidgeted and avoided looking at me.

  “Gerald Whipplethorn offering to help. You’re like a new person.”

  “It’s no big deal.”

  “I think it is,” I said. “But I don’t need any help. Iris does.”

  Easy gazed up at Gerald and held up his hands. Gerald scooped him up and Iris got a good handhold on him. I led the way across the red room with Horc clasped to my chest. I
flew low over the brown chairs and tried to read the titles of the books on the short table. Kipling’s The Jungle Book and His Majesty’s Dragon were the only ones I caught. Gerald nodded to the kitchen. He and Iris zipped off with Easy before I could utter a word. The dogs trotted after them, sniffing and wagging.

  When I caught up, they already stood next to the bread loaf on a granite-covered table that swirled with a multitude of colors: orange, black, white and grey. I shivered as the granite’s cold crept up my feet into my ankles. How it stayed so frigid in such a warm room was a mystery. I looked over the edge. The dogs spied me and began whimpering. I waved at them and turned away. Iris and Gerald moved into a ring of warm moisture around the bread. The bread was enormous up close; bigger than our entire home in the mantel. Iris gazed up at it, holding Easy, who strained towards the loaf with his arms outstretched. Gerald pounded on the side of the bread.

  “I can’t get any,” he said. “It’s hard as a rock.”

  The smell filled the air around me so thick I felt like I could open my mouth, take a bite, and be satisfied. I set Horc on the stone. He swiped his hand through the bread’s moisture and licked his fingers.

  “Oh, Horc,” I said. “Don’t do that.”

  “Why not?” He licked his other glistening hand.

  “It might be dirty.”

  “Look at me,” said Horc. “Do I look concerned with dirt? Spriggans can live on anything and frequently do.”

  I shrugged and leaned against the bread. Warmth radiated off it and drool almost slipped down my chin before I caught it with my finger.

  “Do something,” said Gerald. He looked about ready to cry. “I’m so hungry.”

  I knocked on the side of the loaf. Gerald was right. The bread was hard as a rock. I craned my neck back and looked at the top. It appeared shattered and broken at the top. I flew up and grabbed a jagged edge. A piece the size of my head broke free and I dropped it on the table next to Horc. He snatched it up and stuffed the whole thing in his mouth before anyone else could react. I tore off more chunks and only stopped when the pile next to Horc teetered taller than him. Then I fluttered down and watched the rest eat their fill before taking my first bite.