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mistressofgitterandbones-blog · 7 years

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Bottle of Fairy Dust and Tears

The sound of nickel chinking against the apartment door must have jolted my 5 inch fairy from his stupor. Wings snapped in the air sent a flurry of dust most and light particles into the room. Tat alighted on my shoulder. “Ugh.. I can still see you. No obscene amount of wine can eject me off this tinkerbell asylum” My hand swatted Tat like an annoying fly. I tottered to a mass heap of sundry articles that faintly resembled a bed, floundering in a supine state . I sputtered incoherent fragments of words that were frayed on my tongue. Unintelligible mutterings were a slight improvement from the whimpers that escaped from my mouth yesterday, and the day before that. Whimpers, as pathetic as they sound, were really just quiet admissions, finally buckling into the pain. An admission of reality you’ve continually shunted from. Still, traces of a hope can still be found in the silent spaces in between, despite the stacking odds. It can still shoot through the barren cracks. For most people, this is a visceral sensation calling you to attention. My hope was more, shall we say, corporeal. Irksome. My hope came in the form of a fairy. His presence was, understandably, difficult to ignore than a mere feeling. Fairies like Tat appear only in the most dire cases. He was now an obligated promise I had to make to myself to hold on a little bit longer. Sort of like being responsible for a stray mutt. I couldn’t exactly kick him out . Or maybe my already defunct sanity has exhausted its resources and left me high and dry. All in all, my hands were clinging onto a salvaged swath of worth to steady faltering legs. Legs that showcased days old patterns, stark on wan skin. Legs that lay bare under too many waning moons and not enough sunrises. “Are you okay? Um..Do you need anything?” Tat began to swarm around, checking vitals signs were adequate, or acceptable under the circumstances. This was the second night swaddled in alcohol. An ill-chosen defense from hands too brutish for a faltering frame and mind. This puny creature seemed inadequate for such fractured and ill-fated matters. One has to wonder how could a creature of paltry size to the scale of the human eye be of any consequential guidance or support? But I’m still surviving so evidence stood contrary to my uncertainty. I’d come to realise the essential quality within hope is its quiet stature, its soft catalyst. There lies its strength. It can seem so inadequately small to aid in traction, to move against the grain of our circumstances, but is an ever-present vigil in our darkest hour. This embodiment of hope, this fairy, knows the softest voice in the room has the space in which to listen, gather, compare, construct accordingly. It resides in the overlooked spaces between the noise. A space where knowledge is stored and generated. A space of beginnings. Tat was my beginning, and my end. And an incessant ear ringing in between. A dogged attempt of pressing my eyelids together was foiled by nimble fingers plying them apart with an unnerving ease. An undeniable strength concentrated in a minute form. I shut my eyes again only to be jolted by a sharp sludge of liquid hurled at my face. Its coldness felt like a glacial slap against my clammy skin. “Are you kidding me?!” I rubbed my eyes incredulously, mouth agape. “What in the actual winged nut-house is wrong with you?” I motioned upwards to wrangle the impudent toad but stopped myself as my stomach accelerated in an uncomfortable direction. “Maybe you should have some coffee. Better to sober up a little. Yes, yes.. I know I had some milk thistle somewhere.” His lilt voice and swift movement jolted my queasy, fragile constitution. “Oh no.” I willed with all my might to settle the tsunami that was inevitably hurling towards my mouth. Tat held my tangled, feral hair back as my eyes blurred against a grimy cascade of rejects and regret. In the midst of upchucking my dignity I heard that lilt. A soft voice brushing against my ears, reminding me of my soft parts. I wasn’t broken completely. Tat was still here. I was still here.

I found myself in a fetal position cradling against a clean coverlet, no vomit in sight, and hands stroking my hair. Hands that were neither small nor particularly gentle lately. Hands I shamelessly needed on my skin. “My silly cub.” He held a cup of coffee under my nose, letting the steam and glorious scent waft through my senses. If I could just capture this moment, place it in a frame of simplicity. A fleeting thought that is fractured and malleable component to our ever constructing lie we tell ourselves. It enables us to step further in our idealized story. I have a piece contained. The piece of this person kept safe before the darkness overlapped again. It shows the hands that held me as I cried my ugliness, carefully cutting out the piece where those same hands used my skin as a canvas of bruises. We always cut, cut, cut. So what are we left with? An incomplete person that matches our fabrication. So I lay still wrapped in the scent of coffee mingled with cigarettes and heady wood. Encased in my engorged fairytale. Lips parted, I arched my back, leaning into him willing these scents as a vector to guide him towards a warmth building up. He emits a growl but places the cup in my hands, kissing me on my forehead. “Coffee first.. And maybe have a shower? The scent of vomit was never really a turn-on” I faltered, admonishing myself in silence as shame wafted over me. I took a sip only to utilize my hands away from the awkwardness seeping through the room “Why did you leave anyways? I thought we talked about what happened. I thought. I thought we were okay. But you just left and got yourself into this state.” Tension and hurt contorted his face into new angles. Angles promising a burgeoning frustration if I didn’t act quickly. “It wasn’t a reaction from last night. I promise. Everything is fine. I love you.” I brushed against his arm, testing. “I just lost track of time.” “Lost track of the glasses of wine you drank more like.”He sat back, arms folded, eyes creating a vortex in my line of vision leaving nowhere to evade or look besides his questioning and stiff countenance. I felt my skin flush; a warmth that resembled a fever. There was a coldness to it, a raw wind coursing through my blood giving that edge that made me want to grab that scissors from the coffee table and begin cutting out my deficiencies I clearly couldn’t compensate for. I instinctively recoiled and deflected. My body tensed as I folded inward. “I didn’t know I needed your permission to have a few drinks with my friends. Friends. I suppose that concept is rather alien to you, since you seem to have so many in your life.” Words spilled from my mouth before I could catch them. These inexorable moments always seem to have a slower, disoriented pace than usual. “How would I have time to have friends?” The word friends hung sharp and penetrating in the air. “When I have a girlfriend to watch over and care for like an inept, self-destructive child. Is it any wonder I reacted the way I did yesterday when I have this mess to cater for day in and day out.” I winced. My mind was plucking out fragments of yesterday. There was no delicate arrangement in how I grafted the fragments together. They lay stark in my head. They were banded together by a bellowing voice and trembling body who wouldn’t be held as I cried those ugly tears. Only a cold, barren bathroom floor. “I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean..” “Yes you did. Excuse me, I have to go pick up my actual child. The maturity level will be to a higher standard than here with you.” He stood up abruptly. “Do this relationship a favor and take a look in the mirror today. Seriously look deeper, find a semblance of that girl I met when we were younger. I fucking miss her and I’m sure you miss her too.” He sauntered to the door and paused, lingering to match the slow trickle of the dripping tap. He glanced behind his shoulder, furrowed eyes dropping, along with his frown lines and anger. “I hate what you do to me. I hate who I turn into. I’m. I’m not that guy. Please, don’t make me that guy.” The door slammed behind him, hooking me in the scent of cold, pungent coffee punctuating the air. I heard flickers of a soft, light wings flap so gingerly the air seemed too heavy breathe through. He carried a wad of tissue, waiting expectantly for tears for flood my face but none came. Emotions wrung dry today leaving a face dry and hard. My body felt hollow. I guess it had been for a long time. “Why are you still here? Do you like cleaning my apartment? Do you enjoy watching my pathetic life slowly disintegrate into nothing? You say you’re the emblem of hope but you’ve done absolutely nothing of value since you’ve arrived.” “I’m here by the very fact of hope. It is not up to me whether I stay or go. You hold that choice.” I sighed. A flicker of annoyance appeared on his face only to be replaced by a gentle expression I came to know and was currently taking advantage of. I was a selfish asshole. He alighted on my hand, placing his on my cup to warm up my coffee. “Drink up. Then go have a shower. All is not broken but you got to do some heavy lifting yourself. I am only a 5 inch fairy after all.” With submission, I gulped the rest of my coffee and staggered meekly to the bathroom ready to wash away the dirt that had been accumulated in my life for too long.

The humming of the shower was lulling me asleep until an insistent and reverberating rapping stirred me. I looked up to two wet and ragged fairies slapping repeatedly against the window pane. An annoyance quickly dissipated giving way to a satisfied grin creeping on my face. I hesitated. The Fairy council has strict rules about meetings or social calls with other fairies and their respective humans that is not mandated or approved. Proper protocols must be adhered. Meetings must also be recorded for regulatory and archiving purposes. Tedious but necessary nonetheless. Although that was not my immediate reasoning for hesitating. One specific reason was an insufferable excuse for a fairy. More like a fluttering troll. I’m surprised she could tend to her own wings never mind guide her charge with all her caterwauling that spews from her mouth. Basking in my delight in such visual delights of her discomfort I quickly admonished myself for indulging in such weaknesses, human weakness. A fairy must be diligent and abstemious in such matters. Our calming and stoic nature maintains a homeostasis around humans. It helps to ease their suffering. We are but mere receptacles for their pain. A monument of hope, solidified and sedentary in the throes of life mangling our person. Remembering there was another fairy accompanying her I quickly flew over the window to let them in. “It’s about time. I was beginning to think Molly’s alcoholic breadth had finally killed enough brain cells to render you witless – which wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to achieve considering there is not too activity going on in the first place” Mina tapped my forehead pointedly before violently shaking herself dry. She raised a hand covered in a ragtag piece of cloth level to my nose. I raised my eyebrow. “What do you expect me to do with this grimy dishcloth exactly?” “I expect you to practice your hostly duties and hang up my shawl” “I am not your host. I didn’t even invite you. You’re not even permitted to be here.” I swatted her hand away, casting her rag to the floor. “Unbelievable. It seems you’ve adopted more of Molly’s fine qualities I see. I’m not the only one breaching the rules. So much for maintaining an objective role in your person’s life. I think someone is drinking from the human fountain too much.”Affronted, she gingerly picked up the dishcloth and placed it on the bed, ironing it out with her fingers. “Oh Mina, it is not made of woven silk. You constructed it from materials you found in dumpsters and streets.”The fairy I kept forgetting was here chimed in. “Apologies Tat, she is just a bit frazzled. We all are. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t serious. This is a delicate matter we have to broach. Mina is not the most tactful as you know. I..” “I’m not the most tactful? Tat doesn’t even have the basics of manners down. No. He’s too busy drowning in Molly’s personality to notice what is happening to us.” Her wings flurried in a haze as she pushed a finger into my chest. “So don’t apologize to him. He should be grateful we’re even here in this molded apartment. The only charm this place has is when Molly isn’t in the room.” She spat out Molly’s name as if spewing the distaste from her mouth. Feeling a peculiar sting from her comments, I stilled myself from acting upon an urge to grab her wings and twist them into a tightly bound knot emblematic to her personality. I sighed. But she was right on one account. I willingly let Molly’s thoughts and actions intersperse with my own. When we are assigned,we are bound to our humans base personality so they can acclimatize but we should not indulge in their impulses. We could easily forget our purpose while being swept up in the human conditions and all of the glorious connections and emotions that spark an existence, like a match running along a striker. Humans forget they can see and feel life with such penetration and intensity. Every experience is a validation of existence. I was drunk on it. I was drunk on her. A selfish thought traveled through me. Did I even want Molly to find peace. If she fought her way out. I would need to move on. I wouldn’t be able to see her anymore. Tamping down my unsavoury thoughts as quickly as I could I turned to Mina. “Since you haven’t had the prudence to follow protocol, please keep this meeting brief so I may write to the council in case you failed to clean up your trail coming here.” “Ever the professional. You act like the professor to us mere pupils but who has been corralling wayward fairies off the street, marshaling them back to their purpose, making sure their humans are taken care of. I have been picking up everyone’s slack while you have locked yourself away leading an impeccable example of hope.” Mina rolled her eyes and fronted up to be me. “So you can step off that professional high ground because you have been everything but professional.” She stood solid in front of me as I suddenly felt small and permeable, as if the emotions swarming around this room were wringing my body till there was nothing inside left. I rubbed my temples hard willing her voice to disperse into the air. “Really Molly, If there was a significant issue here don’t you think the council would have notified me. I’ve had my hands tied here. Molly is passing a fragile threshold. It’s make or break but I think I’m finally reaching her. I think I can help her. I might have lapsed regarding my mentoring but I would have noticed the severity of the problems” I placed my hands on her arms and smiled. “It is commendable and prudent of you to convey your worries. It is duly noted. I appreciate the time you gave to inform me. It won’t be forgotten.” Mina shrugged my hands away and directed a firm gaze towards me. “Don’t patronize me. I’m not doing this for you. There mere fact that everything goes unnoticed by you does not mean it isn’t occurring. A good chunk of fairies around the world are wayward. They are rapacious for emotions and their chargers have suffered. Incentives to adhere to the rules and to remain austere in their practices are minimal if at all present. And I have to say I question your commitment. I question your adherence to our codes. And I am not the only one. Your feelings for this girl has left you distracted. You are unfocused. Obsessed even.”She held her head high, hands on hips. “It is after much deliberation that we arrived with the only course of action available for us. For the betterment and progression of our fairies and humans I request your denouncement so I can be chosen as the official field commander.” A heavy sigh rolled from my mouth. This was absurd. The room weighed down on me. Throat restricted and wings overheated and heavy I flew to the window to let some air in. A new wave of annoyance passed over me. It derived not from this conversation but from the time imposed upon me. I wanted to clear them away before Molly walked through the door. Sighing once more, resignation felt in every part of my winged form. “You need to write up a petition and collect more than 50 signatures for that to be even considered.” Mina clapped her hands. A swell of smoke appeared, dancing between her hands, malleable like clay forming a tabular outline which solidified. She popped the lid open and handed my a roll of tattered parchment. It unfurled to the floor. I quickly skimmed through the innumerable list of names collected. My eyes changed depth of perception so that the names blurred into smudges of nonsensical ink. I had never questioned my capability as a leader and thrived on guiding fairies in fulfilling their duties that encapsulated their entire being in one purpose – to serve their person, personify hope. As I gathered memories of the last few months they are alarmingly devoid of wings or guidance of those wings. I had lost touch of my cadre. I felt a ping of unease as I looked at the desperate and sodden fairies stood before me. With a prick, my ego was broached and deflated. The clarion of their pain and worry was written across their faces. I knew my responsibilities. The burden it carried. I could already see the weight slipping off me as I loosened the shackles and status. It was okay. I was in this room room.I was with Molly. I was taken care of my the mere act of caring for her. I didn’t need my wings anymore. Even if I only had a short time left with her. “As you wish.” I conjured a pen from a dust and smoke residue Mina built up. Signing it I felt a bitter freedom that felt terrifying and truthful. I knew what I was really giving up. “I was expecting more of an opposition than this. But I’m not surprised. I’m afraid you’ll be a cautionary tale.” Said Mina. She placed a hand on my cheek, contorting her features to a sadness I never seen on her before. “May the last thing you remember is her love for you.” With that sentiment they flew away into the night.

My back pocket vibrated as I contemplated if I should just pack up and leave. Tat would follow me to the ends of humanity. I wouldn’t be alone. I bitched and moaned about freaking fairy dust falling all over my furniture and his incessant hovering and mollycoddling but it was actually nice having someone caring about me. He could see pass the squalidness of my life. For the first time in my life I felt comfortable and validated with someone. Even if he was just a fairy. Or a figment of my imagination. Laughing at my craziness I extracted my phone to check an incoming message knowing too well who it was from. “Can we please meet up? Today unsettled me. I don’t want to leave things the way they are. I know we can work through your issues. I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I love you.” What was wrong with me. I shouldn’t even contemplate answering him never mind agreeing to meet. Flashes of bruised cheeks and tears came like an onslaught. Fear mingled with my desire to see him. Bereft, I tumbled into my desire, hung my fear on my neglected rack too cloistered with misjudgment already. Fuck. I loved him. More than myself apparently. Maybe I was to blame, accountable to the standards we set in place. If I respected myself more. Set a tone maybe he wouldn’t.. I stuffed my phone in my back pocket berating myself. I would analyze myself to the grave if I didn’t stop. I grabbed a pen and paper, scribbling feverishly, sticking it to the fridge. I couldn’t just give up hard won years of work and commitment over a few lapses. Lapses, the word lingered precariously in my mind. Donning my coat I slipped out of the apartment leaving a snoring fairy to fill warmth in my otherwise lonely and uncherished home.

I sat by the threshold, noticing a layer of dust caked in the corner. I wondered how long I’d been sitting here, waiting for Molly. She had left a note which caused my stomach to coil up. It was uncharacteristic of her to leave notes. There was comfort in her habitual inconsiderations. An eventuality I could trust. So the note marked an odd finality to it despite the words promising her return. How long have I been sitting her? I guess there is not much more to do but let the dust mark time and read the note in rhythmic repetition. I gulped down stale air. How many days has it been? I should open a window. But I wanted to preserve every last drip of her in this room. The world would refuse to enshrine her so I must. She said she would return. The words seemed hollow on the page. I could barely look at it anymore. Crumbling it up I sunk into another waning evening as the darkness encroached into the apartment. I’ll just sit here a little while longer. I realized I was swallowing tears while I waited, wingless in the dark.

#short story #fantasy #urban fantasy #fairies #my writing #mistressofglitterandbones

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