by Jo Michaels
*****
My eyes opened a long time later, and giggling assaulted my ears. I lay still, hoping no one would notice I was awake, observing my surroundings. Puffy clouds in every color of the rainbow floated through an azure sky, flowers, of some type I’d never seen before, bloomed all around me, and trees swayed as though caught by a gentle breeze, though no such wind caressed my face or limbs.
I inhaled and caught the twang of sugar in the very composition of the air as oxygen flowed over my tongue and down my throat.
Everything sparkled in a magical way.
A little girl, with brown ringlets tied back from her face with a pretty blue bow, filled my vision. “She’s awake!” Again, giggles erupted from everywhere.
Sitting up, I turned my head from side to side. There were children—mostly girls—in nightgowns, running over the flower fields, chasing after brightly colored butterflies that were always a hair’s breadth from being captured by the chubby hands. I squinted at the winged creatures.
Not butterflies. Hundreds of fairies.
It was captivating and terrifying all at once. I grabbed the little girl’s hand. “Where am I?”
She tilted her head to one side and screwed up her face. “With the fairies.”
“Yes, I can see that. But where?”
“I don’t know.” With a shrug, she left; running across the field with the other children, blending in so I couldn’t tell them apart.
My plan had included finding the missing kids, but I’d forgotten to figure out how I’d be getting back home—and taking all the children with me. To be fair, I was only thirteen at the time, and I guess I was braver than I was intelligent.
Feeling the urge to move, I stood and brushed off the seat of my pajamas. Over the crest of the hill, I spied a girl who looked to be about my age. She was sitting by herself, picking at one of the weird flowers, which she popped into her mouth and chewed like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted.
“Hey!” I stuck out my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Eyes stuck in a sour face riveted on me. She gazed at my outstretched appendage and curled her lip.
Feeling stupid, I dropped my arm. “Um, I thought, you know, since we’re about the same age and all…”
“What? That we’d be friends or something?”
“Well, yeah.” Her animosity caught me off guard; everyone else in the glade seemed to be happy as larks. I took a step back.
“No.” She threw down the stem, got up, and stomped off. Some of the smaller children scrambled around her feet, reaching their hands up. Shaking them off, she kept going.
It didn’t take long for them to surround me.
“We’re hungry!”
“I needa go potty!”
“I wanna go home!”
My heart went out to the other girl when I realized she must’ve been the oldest—and, therefore, the most responsible and able—one around for a long time. Not sure I wouldn’t be bitter, too. A forever babysitter? No, thank you!
By that time, the little ones were starting to cry.
I soothed them the best I could, and promised them they’d all be taken care of; though I had no idea when or how.
One little boy stuck his thumb in his mouth, curled into a ball near my feet, and fell asleep.
What happened next is something I’ll never forget for as long as my feet grace the Earth.
Fairies, carrying huge bags, flew in a dense cloud over the fields. Those were were shaken, and fine, golden dust rained on us.
As the children breathed it in, their eyes turned glassy, they stopped whining, and they went back to chasing fairies through the fields.
Once it had all settled, and all the little ones were gone from around my feet, I released the breath I’d been holding since the drizzle began.
All these children. Stolen. Their feelings and memories wiped out so often.
Tears dribbled down my face as I thought of how many Christmas mornings were ruined because of these naughty fairies. Some of the kids were dressed like they were from a previous millennia. What would happen to them if I managed to get them out? Would they die? Surely their whole families would be gone.
Orphans.
But being able to grow up was something every human had the right to do. I had to get them out of there. In that moment, I allowed myself the childishness of tears. I’d decided I’d be strong later.
Later happened sooner than I thought it might.
Hyacant buzzed in my face; her perfect eyebrows drawn together. “You know, you have to breathe it in if you want to have joy.”
“I just wanna go home.” Shifting my eyes to one side, I tried very hard to look as dejected as I felt in that moment while not letting on that my brain was plotting against her.
Wings brushed the side of my face, and I allowed her to pet me and say the words I guess she thought would make me feel better. “Poor little girl. Did your mommy and daddy spank you a lot? Were you in trouble all the time? They were mean, weren’t they? Fairies will always be nice, and we’ll give you lots of yummy things to eat.”
My hand shot out and seized her.
“Eep! What are you doing? Let me go!” Her fists pounded at my hand, and her legs kicked in the open air.
Anger I’d been holding back got the best of me, and I gave her a little shake—maybe a touch harder than I’d intended. “Be quiet! Now, you’re going to give me information. Once I have all I want, then I might let you go. Okay?”
Sniveling, she nodded her delicate head.
“What are you doing with all these kids?”
“Queen Remenditia orders us to collect children every year and bring them here.”
“What for?”
“To ensure our survival.”
“Meaning?” Frustration was threatening to take over my actions, but I took a calming breath and leveled my gaze at the woman in my fist.
Every muscle in her body tightened. “We keep them so they believe. If no one believes, we all die.”
“Do you mean to tell me you kidnap children, and cause their parents all that pain, so your kind will live on? Wouldn’t it be better to inspire people to believe and bring happiness instead of sorrow?”
Tears as big as her head dropped from her eyes. “And on Christmas, too! I know! It’s a terrible practice. I tried to tell her, but she’s—”
“So you don’t enjoy what you do?”
Hyacant’s hair went horizontal as she shook her head.
“Then why do you do it?”
More tears fell onto my fingers.
“Tell me!”
“Remember how I told you Flita got eaten by a crow?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper.
My stomach churned, and the Queen became a terror in my mind. “It was her?”
“We call her—” Hyacant’s eyes shifted around “—Remenditia the Cruel.”
“So other fairies think the way you do?”
She nodded.
I released her, and I felt bad when I saw the damage my hand did to her wings. “Sorry.”
Without responding, she sat down and proceeded to pat and pull the kinks out.
We stayed that way for a long time.
Finally, she brushed herself off and flitted up to my shoulder, putting her mouth very close to my ear. “If you don’t let them know, I’ll help you. But I need some promises made.”
I nodded.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” she whispered.
Then, as quiet as a wasp on a windowpane, she was gone.
Children still frolicked through the meadow while I strolled among them. They’d returned to their former mood: happy and unaware. All the while, I was wondering what kind of promises the naughty fairy had in mind.
“Hey.”
I spun around to find the girl from earlier standing a few feet from me. My hand covered my heart. “You scared me. I didn’t even hear you walk up.”
Her eyes turned to me sidelong, and she lifted one eyebrow. “How com
e you aren’t acting like them?”
A chuckle escaped my lips. “I didn’t inhale.”
For the first time, she smiled. “Yeah, you can’t breathe that stuff in. I found a cave I go to during that time of day.”
“Why not take them with you? I saw you push them away.”
“They’re happier like this.”
She was right. I recalled the tearful faces from earlier that day, and compared those to the absolute joy I saw at that moment. “Ignorance is bliss, I suppose.”
“Around here, anyway.”
We stood together for a while, watching the fairies tease the children into giving chase.
“I’m gonna bust outta here. And I’m taking them with me,” I said. “Hyacant agreed to help.”
“Good luck with that. I’ve tried. No way out.”
A grin pasted itself on my face, and I turned to face her. “You didn’t have one of them—” I nodded at the sparkly creatures “—on your side.”
“Hm…”
Nothing more was said on the matter.
Later, once we tired of watching the babies run and giggle, she showed me where to find food, and explained how the dust provided nourishment to the ones who inhaled it.
“Of course, it also makes you a crackpot,” she said.
I couldn’t help but huff with good humor.
Food consisted of some kind of stew she dug out of a weird plant resembling a large pot. My mouth watered when she opened the top leaf, and the smell of potatoes, carrots, onions, and meat hit my nose.
She filled two large, fuzzy shells and passed one to me.
There was no time wasted as I devoured the thick soup. Around a mouthful, I asked, “So, whazzur name?”
“Around here, they call me Remi.”
I swallowed, my throat feeling tight for some unfathomable reason. “Interesting name. How did you come by it?”
“You know, the usual way. Remi is a nickname.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Remi. I’m Shirley.”
Deadpan. “I know.”
My eyelids grew very heavy, and before I could say another word—or contemplate why Remi was looking at me the way she was—I passed out.
