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  1. Gannon

    Gannon Contributor Contributor

    Jan 15, 2007
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    Manchester, England

    Short Story Contest (55): Theme - The Rebel Fairy - Submissions & Details Thread

    Discussion in 'Monthly Short Story Contest Archives' started by Gannon, Oct 26, 2009.

    Short Story Contest 55
    Submissions & Details Thread
    Theme: The Rebel Fairy​

    Open to all, newbies and established members alike. Please post your entries as replies to this post. At the deadline I will collate all entries and put them forward for voting in a seperate thread. The winning entry will be stickied until the next competition winner. Sadly, there is no prize on offer except pride.

    Theme: 'The Rebel Fairy' (courtesy of member jonathonhernandez13). Any interpretation valid.

    Suggested Wordlimit: 500 - 3000 words.
    Deadline for entries: November 9th 2009 10.00 am (UK local)

    There is a 10% word-limit leniency at both ends of the scale. Please try to stick within the limit. As below, any piece outside of the suggested limit may not be entered into the voting.

    There is a maximum of 20 entries to any contest. If there are more than 20 entries to any one contest I will decide which are entered into voting based on adherence to the suggested word limit and relevance to the theme, not on a first-come-first served basis.

    Try to make all your entries complete and have an ending rather than be an extract from a larger one and please try to stick to the topic. Any piece seemingly outside of the topic will be dealt with in a piece by piece manner to decide its legitamacy for the contest.

    Submissions may not have been previously posted on this site, nor may they be posted for review until voting has closed. Only one entry per contest please.

    Please try to refrain from itallicising, bolding, colouring or indenting any text to help avoid disappointment. These stylistics do not reproduce when I copy-paste them into the voting thread. You may use visible noparse BB code to preserve style if you wish.

    Please remember to give your piece a title and give its word count in brackets at the top of your story.

    If there are any questions, please leave me a visitor message or PM me. Please do not clog up this, or any other thread, with your questions.

    Thanks and good luck.
  2. HondaWriter

    HondaWriter New Member

    Oct 20, 2009
    Likes Received:
    The Bad Ones - A Fairy Tale (507 words)

    “Abysil, thank you for meeting with me on such short notice. It’s very important we discuss your 13th hour student, Rowkard, as soon as possible.”

    Abysil crossed her twiggy arms and sighed. When Principal Lornwald called a teacher into his office, it was never a light-hearted matter. And she knew her student, Rowkard, very well. He was always skipping school, looking up flower-petal skirts, stepping over fairy boundaries, and causing trouble in the troll realms. None of the other students liked him, especially after Rowkard put magic dust in their brownies. For two weeks, the whole class was screwed up. Their eyes would probably glitter orange for the rest of their eternal lives.

    “So what has Rowkard done now?”

    Lornwald huffed, “Well, the latest is what happened to that tower in Italy. Have you heard the news?”

    Abysil swallowed, “No, I’m sorry I haven’t - been busy with mid-terms.”

    “Well, it’s somehow earned a new name, The “Leaning” Tower of Pisa. I heard the humans really crapped their pants when the ground shook and the tower almost fell.”

    “That’s awful. But why do you think Rowkard caused it? I mean, he’s a prankster but he hasn’t really done anything destructive like that.”

    Lornwald leaned forward, sliding a drawing across the mushroom desk. His eyes twinkled in the glow of the firefly lamp. “Just look at this.”

    Abysil hesitated, then took the paper, holding it up to the light. The picture was a fairy’s artistic interpretation of Rowkard’s new tattoo - inked in black along his whole arm was a tall tower leaning towards his bicep. Abysil didn’t know what to say. The evidence was clear as baby drool. Rowkard was showing off and didn’t care if he got caught.

    “Sir, I don’t know what to do with this student.” The weight of the Great Oak Tree from which all the Good Fairies lived, bore down, crushing her spirit. Her effervesce wings sagged as a tear, cold as the dark Abyss, drew a white line down her cheek.

    Lornwald sat back in his chair, “We may just have to pass the delinquent through school. How many times has he flunked your grade?”

    “That would be…let’s see…” Abysil counted math in the air, “Umm, nine hundred and twenty-two times.”

    “Exactly my point. It’s time to move forward. I simply believe some fairies can’t be helped. Let’s see if college can straighten up his bent wings. They have tougher punishments and more limitations. And we’ve dealt with him long enough.”

    Abysil put her hands over her face and began to cry. A pool of silver gathered around her toes. As her tears soaked into the ground, gray flowers slowly sprouted, tickling her legs - a fairy’s self-defense against sadness. She couldn’t help but smile.

    Lornwald coughed, “Come now, it’s not your first student that’s gone awry. And I’m afraid it won’t be your last bad student.”

    Abysil nodded. She understood exactly what Lornwald was talking about. Good students, bad students, it’s just the way life was. “Yes I know, the humans aren’t perfect. We love clean, laughing babies, but when a dirty, grumpy baby farts, Rowkard happens.”
  3. Mo Yeongsu

    Mo Yeongsu New Member

    Oct 17, 2009
    Likes Received:
    Oahu, HI
    Questioning Authority - (1008 words)

    “You are a strange one,” the had told her.

    “You’re an improper child, if I’ve ever seen one,” Aunt Flora had informed her once.

    Do not speak such nonsense, is all Crescent would hear when she raised a question. Fairies dare not think of what lies beyond the forest, is what had been taught. It is dangerous and there are humans everywhere and they were of dangerous beyond belief.

    “What makes them so dangerous?” Crescent had asked. The only bit of knowledge she received was that humans were unimaginably big and that stirring spoons, when hit square on someone’s head, did not feel very great at all. Every question was met with a strict lesson on respect for authority and obedience. Not once had she ever been given a satisfying explanation. Obedience was all well and good, but why would should anyone be expected to follow any rules if no one seemed to know why there existed in the first place?

    “I’m starting to think we are just following rules that our elders tell us to and that they don’t even know why those rules were made. They are just following them because their elders said they should. That doesn’t seem to be much of a reason to follow any rule, now does it?” Crescent asked this of her friend Hohola the boar, whom she was riding atop. She laughed, suddenly realizing Hohola might think her just as foolish as the rest of the fairies if they could truly have a conversation. It wasn’t that she hadn’t tried learning pig—it just happened that she was tone deaf and unable to distinguish the pitch at which the snorts came out. Her mentor, Madam Nani, had given up on her after a month and sent her to study the avian languages, like so many other fairies that lacked that particular talent. Pig happened to be a dying language, so it would be to Crescent’s benefit if she learned something that she could both master and would be valuable.

    “I’m going to take a nap, okay?” Fluttering her way onto Hohola’s back, Crescent yawned and collapsed on the soft bed of bristly, black hairs. She dreamed of flowers and droves of fairies blanketing lush, green mountainsides. Crescent imagined a day when she might sparkle like the elders whose magic was greater than her own a hundred times over. She also dreamt that she spoke to a human who had been all too happy to meet her and led her down into the city where wonders awaited her.

    A loud, strange roaring woke her from her fanciful dreams. Before she knew it the fairy was up in the air, spinning round, trying to recognize where she was. Directly in front of her stood a tall, wiry fence and beyond that rested a village of humans with their wheeled contraptions and yelping canines. Crescent felt her chest become tight with fear as she realized herself to be completely lost and terrified. I must get back up the mountain quickly, she told herself.

    “What were you thinking, Hohola?” she demanded an explanation. The pig raised her head and let out a few grunts before returning to the mushrooms she had been chomping at. Despite the language barrier, Crescent definitely heard “you” and “want” in the sentence. It was safe to say her friend was telling her “This is what you wanted.” Or something close.

    Well, she was already there. And who would find out? If Hohola could really understand her, she probably wouldn’t tell anyone considering it might cause them both trouble. The black pathways between the dwellings were free of humans now. There had been one of the rolling machines—the one whose horn had woken her—but it had disappeared by the time Crescent had decided to venture forth. She stayed low and tried her best to keep close to trees and bushes, hesitant to be near the enormous structures that covered the landscape.

    Every minute or so she looked back toward the fence to ensure it was still there along with Hohola. As her courage grew, Crescent dared to investigate the oddities this world had to offer. Growing alongside the dwelling stood a tall bush spotted with crimson flowers she had never seen before. They smelled so wonderful that she couldn’t help but dance around them and performed a small charm to ward off bugs. Circling the building, she found a few small men, that at first had terrified her, but upon a lengthy introduction that yielded no response she saw that they were mere imitations. Rather shabby ones at that, she thought later. It felt very embarrassing to not have noticed right away, but that may have been in part, or whole, due to how flustered she was at meeting a new creature. The humans who live here must be very poor with magic, she decided. Even the visual trickeries she produced could move and make noise.

    The fairy had taken to sitting on a ledge in front of an invisible wall and admiring the way the grass here remained all the same height. That was a spell she would like very much to learn if she ever met a human. For some odd reason, though, they were all absent. Maybe there was a party elsewhere they had all gone to attend. Were humans afraid of fairies just as Crescent’s people were of them. It would seem odd, she thought, with them being so big and all.

    Gliding to the fence she felt absolutely enchanted by the whole experience. It was a little disappointing not to have seen a human up close, but maybe that could wait for another day. “Another day,” she said it aloud, smiling at the idea. Just before darting through the hole in the silver chain links, she turned to say a goodbye.

    With the best snort she could muster up, Crescent thanked Hohola and swore she would return to studying pig just so she might one day give her a gift just as beautiful.
  4. architectus

    architectus Banned

    Aug 19, 2008
    Likes Received:
    Underpaid (900 words)

    Sarah strapped the blue saddle onto the back of her fat toad. She looked to her left at the line of toads already mounted by fairies. The fairies had their knees set into the saddles, their butts raise, and fluttered their almost transparent wings. They were all ready to race but Sarah.

    Fifty percent of the winnings, she thought. It's just not worth it anymore. After shoving a thick blade of grass out of the way, she pressed her foot into the ring of the saddle, then hoisted herself onto her toad. It croaked. Oh, shuddap, fatso, she thought.

    She looked up at the massive faces that belonged to the elves, those giants. They looked down in anticipation for the race to start. Yeah, yeah, we're ready to race for your slave wages.

    Light sticks, that the lightning elves filled with lightning, were stuck in the ground around the pond, lighting up the area. Hand-sized fireflies danced above the water.

    An elf's voice boomed from the sky. "You know the rules. You may get rough, but no using magic. Take any path you want as long as you don't cross the water. The first to make it around the pond wins."

    Sarah flew off her toad and blocked the way for the other riders. She waved her hands. "Wait. This is unfair. We do all the work, right? We deserve at least seventy percent. One of the fairies named Jack, flew off his toad, his wings buzzing like a humming birds'.

    "Dammit, Sarah. We've already got the elves to raise our percent from forty to fifty. Now get on your toad."

    "No. Listen everyone, we need to go on strike until they agree to pay us at least seventy percent."

    "What are you guys doing?" a voice boomed from the sky.

    Jack flew to Sarah. "Think about your cousin. He needs medicine, right? How will you pay for that unless you win some races, and how can you win races if we go on strike?"

    "I'll find a way," she said.

    "Sarah, we're going to race. If you want to go on a one fairy strike, go for it, but I doubt you'll make a difference."

    Jack flew back to his to his toad, and Sarah descended to the ground. Shoving blades of grass, she plowed through them, then grabbed the reigns that hung by the sides of her toad's long mouth. She tugged on them.

    "C'mon, fat head."

    Once she pulled him off the starting line, an elf blew a horn, and the toads leaped. She had to do something. This wasn't right. Fairies did all the work, so they deserved more pay. The only work the elves did was training the toads, but who cares because the fairies are the ones who feed them and sheltered them.

    She didn't care if she got fired, she was putting a stop to this race, so she mounted her toad. Sure, the others had a head start, but there was a narrow part of the pond she could leap over, and catch up. It was cheating, but who cares. All she wanted to do was catch up to them. She dug her knees into the saddle, raised her rear, and tugged the reigns. Her toad shot off, leaping like his ass was on fire. Over grass and over mushrooms they went until they reached the narrow part of the pond. She tugged the reigns to the left, but the toad hesitated because it was so used to keeping the rules.

    "Dam you toad." She tugged harder. "Over the water, boy."

    It leaped over the water, splashing on the other side. Now the other toads were close by. When she caught up to the one in last place, she pinched a bit of fairy dust from her bag and tossed it at the rider.

    "Fall off," Sarah said.

    The rider fell off the toad, and it went on leaping straight. Then a horn blasted in the air, followed by an elf voice.

    "Magic was used. Race is over."

    She looked up. The elves complained and yelled. Some talked about wanting their bet money back.

    Jack flew off his toad and right up to Sarah. "What did you do that for? What are you thinking?"

    "If we all stop racing, the elves will have no choice but to pay us more. Who else will they get to race the toads? They love toad racing too much to give it up."

    "She has a point," a female fairy said, whose name Sarah forgot.

    "Maybe we should support her," another said.

    Jack's pointy ears went limp.

    Balm, one of the elves, yelled down at them. "What are you damn fairies doing?"

    Hovering over the grass, Jack wrapped his arm around Sarah's neck. "You've always been such a pain." Then he grabbed her by the hand and flew up to Balm's face and stared him in one eye, an eye larger than Jack's head. "We're going on strike."

    A smile as big as her toad's filled Sarah's face.

    The elf's brows bunched up, causing the skin between them to pinch. "You can't do that."

    His voice hurt Sarah's ears. "We just did," she said.

    Jack slipped his fingers between Sarah's. "Let's go eat some berries."
  5. breakingwave

    breakingwave New Member

    Oct 27, 2009
    Likes Received:
    The Tempest

    738 words

    The crystal clear, teal colored water shimmered on the rocks as Maggie pondered her reflection in the nearby stream of water. She examined her body and thought that she looked like the rest of her siblings, her wings were almost mature now, unfolding into her small, delicate frame, glistening as sheer as a new bride’s veil as she fluttered them back and forth. Her head petite and small, her ears pointed at just the right angle, her eyes the deepest shade of purple and her golden hair trailing down her back as soft and flowing as the feathers of a new born duckling. Her tiny, miniature skeleton was not any different than any of the other fairies that shared the Harrowgate Glen. The Harrowgate Glen was a place, deep in the forest, where these mystical beings could roam and fly to their heart’s content and not be seen by any creatures in the outside world.

    Why did she feel so different inside then? Why was she so discontent with going about the business of the fairies, as they fluttered about the nearby towns and villages bringing happiness and good fortune to all that they bestowed their magic dust upon? How could she possess such envy in her rapidly beating heart towards those human creatures who laughed with tremendous passion and embraced with such contentment? What secrets did they possess to join together with such purpose and joy?

    Maggie thought of the words that her mother spoke to her recently, she had called her , the little Tempest , sensing Maggie’s constant curiosity and restlessness. Her Mom had nicknamed Maggie this because she said she reminded her of a storm that she had seen long ago, hurling across the sea, turning and tossing its waves and never standing still. Unlike her siblings which were content to blend into the activities of their fellow fairies, Maggie often placed herself in a detached, outer circle, choosing to hesitate in question of an inner voice which spoke to her of wanting more.

    In listening to this soft, yet persistent urging, Maggie found herself straying from the duties of learning how to go about the tasks of a fairy in training, and flying to the edge of the Glen and observing these human creatures that scurried about working and flocking together. There was something about how connected they were and how determined they went about their daily chores.

    Her mother had warned her of coming too close to be seen by these mortals, it was dangerous to be discovered, and still Maggie could not resist the attraction of this activity. One day as she watched them intently from the shade of an evergreen tree, she heard a sound that caused her to hold her breath and hasten to the dark edges of the sheltering tree. A human had come into this wooded space with a long, pointed object and proceeded to attack the tree where she was hiding with great force. With each vigorous blow, this razor-sharp instrument hurled at the base of the tree, and huge pieces flew through the air, landing into a pile of dust. Maggie became very frightened, as she vibrated within the hollow of the tree with each horrendous strike. At this very moment she regretted rebelling against the protection of her home deep in the Glen and the family that made her feel safe and secure.

    Just as she felt the tall evergreen become a defenseless victim of its onslaught and yield to the savage thrusts as it fell to the ground, Maggie flapped her wings as hard as she could and with astonishing speed escaped towards her home. She didn’t stop to pause until she could no longer feel the rush of air and the sound of the crackling as the gigantic tree thundered to the ground in it’s demise. The sight of her siblings and the face of her mother brought forth great comfort and tears of relief as the gathering of familiar sights once again surrounded her.

    What had been such an adventurous and tempting sensation, where she to imagined herself apart of this unknown world of humans, was now replaced with a memory of a frightful and dreadful experience. This recollection would stay with Maggie for a very long time and she would for evermore remain content to be a fairy among fairies, satisfied to be spreading magic instead of mayhem.
  6. RobT

    RobT Active Member

    Oct 22, 2009
    Likes Received:
    Stoke-on-Trent, England
    Caution: May cause offence

    The Good Ol’ Boys (504)

    The sun was slowly sinking in the western sky, the soothing orange glow shone through the branches of the trees that stretched out into the swamp. The good ol’ boys sat on Grandpa Jed’s porch, some sucking on their pipes, lazily blowing out smoke which rose as dense clouds before being whisked away on the gentle breeze. A jar of whiskey had made its way along the line of men and was now slowly returning the other way, the remaining contents sloshing around as each man threw it to his shoulder and took a long pull.

    Zeke leaned forward in his rocking chair, and spat out a stream of tobacco juice. “I sh** you not.” he said.

    “His momma would be turning in her grave,” observed Hank.

    “Yep, she sure would,” agreed Zeke, wiping his shirt sleeve across his chin, mopping up the drops of tobacco juice that had dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

    Grandpa Jed slowly rocked back and forth, eyes closed, sucking on his clay pipe, seemingly wise in keeping his own council.

    Abe idly picked his nose, examining the contents before flicking them from his finger. “Just don’t seem natural to me,” he muttered, staring at Hanks boots and wondering if he’d noticed where the nasal contents had landed.

    Hank and Zeke belched in unison.

    “I just don’t believe it,” said Sal, lifting his leg from the chair, farting a retort that left him wondering if he’d actually followed through. After a moments pause to make sure he hadn’t he pulled his underwear from the crack of his ass and adjusted himself on the chair.

    Grandpa Jed slowly rocked back and forth, eyes closed, sucking on his clay pipe, seemingly wise in keeping his own council.

    “Yep, he’s a god damn fag, a genuine homosexual!” said Bo, emphasising the word homo. “Came right out with it, and he was as serious as a belly full of buckshot!”

    “I just don’t understand,” said Cousin Zak. “How a good ol’ country boy, a rebel like Billy Jo, could grow up to be a fairy.”

    Grandpa Jed stopped rocking, opened his eyes and removed the clay pipe from his toothless mouth. “Could be worse,” he said, pausing to cough then hawk a gob of phlegm over the porch rail. “He could be black.”

    Heads nodding in agreement, never realising that because of people like Billy Jo, the so called rebel fairy, the days of the good ol’ boys bigoted views were numbered. Like the dinosaurs that walked the earth before them they would soon be no more, there narrow-minded world slowly shrinking, suffocated by a modern worlds tolerance and understanding.

    The fiery orb of the sun faded and dusk turned to night. Lanterns were lit with a hiss and a pop as there wicks caught the flame. In silence the good ol’ boys stared into the impenetrable darkness, together they sat, each man alone with his own prejudice.

    Grandpa Jed slowly rocked back and forth, eyes closed, sucking on his clay pipe.
  7. LordKyleOfEarth

    LordKyleOfEarth Contributor Contributor

    Feb 21, 2009
    Likes Received:
    San Antonio, TX. USA
    The Rebel Fairy
    (1169 words)

    Lom looked over his shoulder as the wooded planet fell from view. He glanced at his instruments: Cabin pressure: Holding at one atmosphere. Fuel cells: 89%. Weapon pods: Armed, safeties engaged. The sky rapidly fell black as the X-Thing Starfighter rocketed beyond the atmosphere. Three minutes until the Imperial Death-Moon was in range and the attack would begin.

    “This is Red leader. All points form up on me, Attack formation Alpha-deuce-niner.”
    “Copy that. Alpha-deuce-niner locked in.” replied Lom. The X-Thing listed to port as it moved into attack formation. Butterflies invaded Lom's stomach as the Death-Moon glided onto the X-Thing's navigational display. “Deep breaths. Focus on relaxing thoughts.” he told himself.

    Suddenly the cabin began to fill with the noxious smell of chemical solvent. Lom forced himself to remain calm, and checked his instrument panel for warning lights. Nothing.
    “Um, Darryll? We may have a problem here, do you smell--” he stopped mid-sentence as he stared in disbelief at his gunner. “Are you painting your nails?
    “Pfft. Honey, queens paint, heroes polish.” He held his manicured left hand up as evidence of impending herodom.

    Darryll was new. He had only enlisted with the rebel army two months ago. His gunning scores had been incredible through his entry exam; markedly higher than anyone the review board had ever seen. Soon after, they awarded Darryll the honor of 'Battalion's top marksman'. It was on account of his marksmanship, a skill which the rebels badly lacked, that the board eventually agreed to make an exception, and allow him to enlist. It was why he came to join the rebel cause that made everyone nervous. Darryll was a former member of the Imperial army. He had been mustered out under the new 'Don't ask, don't tell' program.

    “Isn't it weird being on the other side?” Lom had asked one day after Darryll was assigned as his gunner.
    “I don't care who I'm shootin at,” Darryll told him, “so long as the reporters catch my good side in the pictures.” He then tossed his chin up and hair back in a dramatic pose. “I'm just really good at this. My momma always told me, find what I'm good at and do it.”

    “So why did you join the Imperials first?” Lom had asked.

    “Their uniforms are fabulous. Walter Lanague designs them. The rebels have a whole... destitute bad-boy look.” His hands moved dismissively across Lom's profile. “I mean, you pull it off... um... great. But its not for me.” Something about the way he paused before 'great' had made Lom aware of how grungy his tattered flight suit had become.

    Now, sitting in the cockpit of the ancient fighter craft, Lom felt a sense of pride. The Imperials had mistakenly let the greatest gunner in the universe slip through their fingers. Two minutes from now, the Imperial army would find out exactly how badly that mistake could hurt. All he had to do was get in range and let Darryll do the rest. Piece of cake, he hoped.

    “Red-six calling Red-two. Red-two do you copy?”

    “Go ahead Red-six” replied Lom.

    “Hey you two looked really cute in those matching leather flight suits.” quipped Miko, the squadron hot-shot. He was right. Darryll had bought a pair of flight suits from an old school friend. They were costumes from the movie, Battletrek Enterprise, and had been designed by Andraeus Givello. Lom had to admit, he looked pretty good in it.

    “You get matching handbags too?” asked Leigha, Miko's gunner.

    “Are you kiddin me?” Darryll asked in an uninterested manner before coolly continuing, “a hand bag would clash worse than you and Miko's matchin mustaches.”

    “Can it you guys, we have hostiles inbound. Red leader to all wings, prepare for combat.” Three squadrons of Imperial TRI-fighters blipped to life on the radar. “Blue and gold squadrons, move to intercept. Red squadron continue on attack vector. Watch your wingman and keep an eye open for the laser towers on the Death-Moon's surface. Red leader out.”

    Scattered laser fire began to fill the air. Blue four let out a terrified scream before exploding into a ball of plasma and shrapnel. Darryll finished filing the nails on his gunning hand.

    A lone TRI-fighter flew past and began firing on Red six. “I know you boys are watching my ass, but could you cover it too?” Miko radioed, “I'm lining up for my pass.”

    “Don't you worry Miko, your ass is too cute to waste.” Darryll said as his turbo lasers roared to life. Bolts of coherent ruby light tore through the Imperial ship. “Now blow that moon to hell!”

    Miko lined his X-Thing up with the reactor exhaust chute. The chute was the Death-Moon's only vulnerability, a long exhaust vent which connected the reactor core to the outside. It was also smaller than a Sulvarian Inex. Hitting it would be near impossible. Miko dove for the target through a maelstrom of turret fire. Leigha focused on the vent and released her payload. The bombs collided with a turret tower, missing the chute completely.

    One after another the Red squadron fighters completed their passes over the chute. Each pass resulted in a spectacular explosion but none found their down the chute. The hopes for a rebel victory were growing bleak. The radar screen pinged to life as five more squadrons of TRI-fighters launched into the fight.

    “Red two, you have the last shot at this. No pressure or anything, but if you fail the rebels forces will be defeated. We'll keep these fighters off you as long as we can. Good luck.”

    “Thanks Red leader, we won't let you down.” Replied Lom. He keyed off the radio and began his approach. “Hey Darryll. You can hit that chute, right?”

    “Lom, I've been shootin loads down exhaust chutes longer than you've been flyin.” Lom Tried not to consider how else Darryll may have meant that. “Relax Lom, I have sooo got this.”

    Lom began to dive at the chute. Below, laser turrets spat fiery death at the X-Thing. Above, squadrons of X-Things and TRI-fighters fought in desperate combat. Inside the cockpit, Darryll took aim and fired the payload of bombs.

    The entire rebel force held their breath.

    “Screw you. Bigots.”

    A muffled “Poomfft” emitted from the chute. Moments later, a sudden fireball erupted from the opening. The entire Death-Moon began to crack apart. An internal ammunition store room exploded, and soon the Death-Moon was no more.

    Back at base Lom and Darryll were welcomed as heroes. Reporters took photos of both Darryll's good side, and his better side. Lom received compliments on his stylish new look. The loss of the Death-Moon would cripple the Empire's efforts to destroy the rebels. With this victory, freedom would be preserved in the galaxy. During the celebration Miko congratulated Darryll personally.

    “I could almost kiss you right now.” He told Darryll.

    Darryll smiled and winked, “If you don't ask, I won't tell.”
  8. UnknownBearing

    UnknownBearing New Member

    Feb 26, 2009
    Likes Received:
    (1880 words)


    'Twas nearly sundown by the time Sam had his fill of the vista that lay over his rolling hills. A shame it was, that this day mostly held only cloudy, gray sky. The sun that peeked through the curtain of clouds, though, Sam found it to be just as breathtaking as any clear day. Radiant beams of light laid scattered patches of green across the hillside, giving way to a certain heavenly feeling that Sam wished not to give up just yet.

    Uneasily rousing himself from his stupor, Sam went about gathering his flock from the field. Osgar barked happily as Sam sent him bounding after the sheep. Gathering them up, Sam went about leading them back to their pens, where Sam would keep them during the night. Sam believed he had no time for relaxation, so he worked until the point where he felt he was about to collapse. Whether this be gathering or cutting wood for the oncoming winter, or tending to his flock as he just had, Sam did his job with the whole dedication of his heart. "Why waste time on a job if you don't give it your all?" Sam would always reason.

    Dusk approaching, Sam opened the door to his cabin and removed his wool jacket. Ana's cries pierced his ears from a mile away, and Sam had been half-hoping she would have stopped by this time. The terrible screams were only interrupted by a more terrible coughing fit.

    "Samhradhán Kavanagh," shot Dierdre's pleasant yet strained, threatening voice. "You come back later and later each night, you do. Ana's been cryin' all day!"

    "I come back every day 'round the same time, dear. It's jus' been a long day for you," Sam said while picking up Ana, who was still wailing. It hurt him so much to see her in pain. He adored Ana, he wanted to see her grow up and marry a handsome lord, with whom he could take on long hunting trips. Sam already loved who she would become, so it made him feel terrible that she felt so bad this early in her life.

    "You think there's something wrong with her, Sam?"

    "I'd say so, she's been coughing up a storm for the last few days. She keeps this up we'll take her down to Murray in the marketplace. He'll know what to do." This made Sam feel better, and hopefully this assuaged Dierdre as well.

    Sam was unbelievably exhausted that day, and he was so ready to retire for the night. Dierdre said she'd stay up a little longer to finish the sweater she'd been knitting, so Sam took his way with the bedroom. He closed his eyes and drifted off only to be awakened after an hour or two by the soft pitter-patter of feet.

    Dierdre lay beside him, so Sam was quickly confused. Could Ana have gotten out of her cradle and learned to walk? As silly as the sound of it was, Sam got out of his bed without rousing Dierdre to check the cradle. He found Ana sleeping peacefully. Even further confused, Sam left the bedroom and investigated the small living room, near the fire place. He could hear a scratching noise up the chimney...

    Suddenly, a bright light dropped into the fire place. It was a brilliant light blue blur, and the shine it cast lit the room with a dim glow. As soon as Sam's curiosity got the better of him, and he reached out to touch the light, it sprang up from the soot and flew about the room before hiding somewhere behind the wood logs Sam had brought in earlier today.

    "What are you?" Sam said curiously. He did not expect such a thing to answer back in a high, scratchy voice.

    "Nothing you need to know," it said, quickly and quietly. Startled but intrigued, Sam pressed further.

    "You can talk? Do you have a name?"

    Silence, and Sam feared it would not answer before he heard, oh-so quietly from behind the wood stack, "Rós."

    "Well, Rós, what a pretty name!"

    At this, Sam delighted to see the light had peeked over the logs. Now that he had a more proper look, Sam saw the faint outline of a tiny woman inside the light, and out from her back he saw small but beautiful wings sprouting. Sam had heard legends of fairies and demon folk, but never had he deeply considered the stores.

    "Where do you come from, Rós?"

    "The Otherworld, I came from. I live here now," she said a little more boldly now.

    Sam strained his vision to see past the light and cast his eyes on her face, but to no avail. Her features were blinding, he could not gaze upon what he assumed to be beauty. "Why have you come here, though, to my home? Surely it is not as comforting as your home?"

    "I left for the world of men. I left without permission," said Rós. "Not many of them are like me, so I ran away." She now climbed up to the top of the pile of wood to speak to Sam.

    "So you're a rebel fairy, are you?" Sam asked with a charming grin, sitting himself down on a chair.

    For the rest of the night, Sam and Rós carried on their curious conversation. Rós recounted her rebellion against her fellow kind in the Otherworld, the events which led to her departure for a new world; Sam educated her in the ways of men, the flocks to tend, the wood to chop, the family to care for. Never before had man, nor even fairy for that matter had such an interesting conversation as this. Where two worlds collide, a strange and unusual friendship begins.

    Sadly, when Rós informed Sam that she needed her rest from her departure, Sam obliged to leave her be and return to bed, intent on resuming their talks in the morning, perhaps even with Dierdre by his side. What an exciting turn of events!

    When Sam awoke in his empty bed the next morning, he hastened to the room to find Rós near the logs, but she was nowhere to be found. Dierdre was up and about, yet she seemed to be showing no strange signs of having seen a fairy person. All day long Sam waited excitedly for night to come. Tending his flock became a horrible chore; but when night fell, sure enough Sam was awakened by the same pitter-patter, and he would go out to meet Rós.

    This continued for many days and many nights, and with each encounter, Sam and Rós became even more enveloped with each other's lives and quirks. Rós, Sam soon discovered, was a very snappy little fairy. She resented authority and probably left her home for this reason. She had a soft-spoken way about her, yet there seemed to be something mischievous about her, almost sinister. Sam found this quality fascinating.

    In the day, Dierdre became concerned for Sam. He never paid any attention to her and Ana anymore. He promised her that he would take Ana to see the doctor Murray, but he never did. Ana's condition was worsening.

    "Sam, I'm taking Ana down to Murray's right now, whether you come along or not," she said to him one day, a day he had Peter Faller come on over to shear his sheep. Sam was glad he didn't have to work today, he'd been up all night. "She was screaming all night long!"

    "But dear, she was as quiet as a lamb!" Sam would have known if Ana was crying, he was talking to Rós all night.

    "No but's Samhradhán!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide and shocked at his response. "This is your only daughter we're speaking of!"

    "All right, all right, dear. How 'bout we take her down first thing in the morning? It's gaining on night fall, Murray will be wanting to go home by now anyway." The truth of the matter was, Sam didn't want to miss a chance to talk to Rós again. If they left now, they might not get back until very late.

    Dierdre approved reluctantly, and Sam went on with his work stoking the fire. It was cold outside, and Sam was glad he was indoors. He wanted to ask Rós what it was like to live in her world, if it ever got to be winter, or if there was ever rain so hard it would pierce your skin.

    That night Sam awoke without the sound of Rós' footsteps. Sam heard a faint crying noise, and with a pang of fear he realized it was Ana. Dierdre wasn't in bed. With a start he tried to follow the cries, and they led him to the room where Rós stayed. He found Rós sitting calmly on the table while Ana's cries are all about the room.

    "What happened to Ana?" Sam asked her.

    "Seems like she's upset, Sam. why haven't you been taking care of her, Sam?" Rós said.

    "Where is she?" Sam said. For the first time, Sam got a slight glimpse of Rós' face. "Who are you really, Rós?"

    "Not many are like me," she said mysteriously. Ana's cries grew louder. They grew so loud he could feel them vibrate up his spine. Sam whirled around, expecting to see Ana's cradle right there, her crying within it, but nothing. The cries came from nowhere, yet from every angle they attacked Sam!

    The brilliant blue glare of the fairy was invaded by two flaming red pinpoints, right where her eyes should be. A twisted grin appeared on her now slightly more visible face. Sam became horrified and ran back to his bedroom. As soon as he reached the bedroom he found himself, somehow by some use of witchcraft, in the previous room again, with Rós now laughing in a horrible screeching pitch. Above it all, Ana's cries flew wildly around the room. Sam's head began spinning. "Ana!"

    Sam woke up on the floor of his living room in a cold sweat. Confused by his location and the sudden silence, he stood up slowly. Rós was gone, and suddenly, in the quietness of it all, Sam had to question if she had ever been there to begin with. Remnants of fear still within him, Sam returned once more to his bedroom to check on his beloved Ana.

    He found her sleeping silently once more. After a great sigh of relief, Sam placed his hand gently on Ana, thinking about how he had been neglecting her, all to divulge his fantasies with that treacherous fairy. For the last few days he's been a changed man, putting off his work and family. He missed holding Ana. Some nights, when Sam used rock Ana to sleep, he would be lulled asleep himself by Ana's even breathing.

    "Dier..." Sam started quietly. His gut began to sink as Rós' evil laughter, whether it had been a figment or not, rippled through his memory. "Dierdre!"

    "Wha-what is it?" Dierdre mumbled through sleep speech. Sam realized that Ana wasn't breathing evenly. She wasn't breathing at all.
  9. Sillraaia

    Sillraaia New Member

    Sep 26, 2009
    Likes Received:
    Forbidden Temptations. (2166 words)

    “Zypher, another A+. Very nicely done.”
    Zypher's form shimmered as he returned to his original appearance. A high score in this class was nothing. A mindless task. Illusion magic came naturally to him. He shrugged off the praise, just as he did the wing-flutters of the girls trying to flirt with him. To anyone else, they might seize attention, but Zypher was used to it. He had long ago grown bored with their shallow affections. His parents were pressuring him to find a companion – it was customary for the boys to be spoken for by the time they reached their 20th circle of life. Zypher's 20th birthday was hurtling toward him too fast, as far as he was concerned. It's not that he wasn't interested in girls – only in his current selection. He hadn't yet found one that was any different from the others. They all seemed to want his status more than they wanted him.

    Millions of tiny little bells sang their magical tune from each rolled up leaf in the form of a loudspeaker around the tiny school - class was out for the day.

    “Hey Zy. We're going to the swimming hole. Wanna come?” Eldrin called his invitation from a group of two other classmates waiting expectantly for the answer.

    “Sure, why not. Bet I can even beat ya'll there.” That might be a challenge, at least. Of all the times he and Eldrin had raced, he had never won, but if there was one thing Zypher loved, it was a challenge.

    “Hah! Dream on!”

    Wings beating furiously, the small group of fairy boys flung themselves through the brush, around giant-sized tree trunks, through forests of flower stems, over and under twigs and leaves that hindered vision. Seidran yelped in pain, and shouted curses at the hairy caterpillar he had just brushed by as he flopped motionless to the ground, sending the other boys into fits of laughter as they raced on. He would be paralyzed for an hour.

    Approaching the pool, Eldrin whipped around and flew backwards, watching to see how far ahead he was this time. He had nothing to worry about. Zypher and Adaryn raced together, shoving each other back and forth as Eldrin crossed the finish line backwards, fingers interlaced behind his head.

    “Hah! I win.” Zypher boasted.

    “You did not. El, who won?”

    “That, would be me.”
    An answer of glares prompted a different response. “Too close to tell. I think you both tied again.”


    “Hey, look. No swimming today.” Eldrin pointed at a sleeping human across the pond, naked and face down on one of those elongated pool-side chairs.

    “Awww,” Adaryn groaned.

    “Sshh!” Zypher was staring. She was gorgeous. And she knew nothing of who he was.

    “Why are you staring like that? You'd better not be getting any ideas.” Eldrin frowned suspiciously.

    “Yeah, humans are off-limits and you know it. It's like, some curse.”

    “Bull. Like I'd believe that old fairytale. Besides, look at her. How could you say no to that?” The boys watched the woman as she lay in the sun.

    “Easy. She is huge! I couldn't even morph into something that big.” Adaryn said.

    “You have no chance with her anyway.” Eldrin added.

    “Wanna bet?” Zypher smiled confidently and flew off to the nearest tree.

    The illusion was bigger than he had tried before, but he was sure he could do it, if anyone could. The bigger the illusion, the harder it was to implement, but once formed, maintaining it was easy enough.
    He guessed her height, picked a branch on the tree that was a little taller to use as a guide, and decided on features as he morphed. Hair almost black – darker than hers; strong jaw-line, broad shoulders, ripped abs – why be anything less than his own idea of perfect when he had the choice? He wanted clothes to best display his form. A tight gray t-shirt and black jeans.

    “Wow dude you are huge.”

    Zypher's smile widened. “I've heard that before.” Oops, forgot to fix the voice.
    The fairies laughed as they buzzed around his head.

    Adaryn rested on his shoulder. “You're not really gonna do this are you?”
    He concentrated, and adjusted his voice-box.

    “Hell yeah. I need some challenge. Something different. The girls back home are all easy targets. Just don't tell anyone.”

    “Hah – you'll never get anywhere anyway. Why would we have to?” Eldrin laughed confidently.

    “Shoo. I'll be done here soon and home in time for dinner.” They buzzed away with laughs of disbelief.

    Just as Zypher went to step out of the cover of his tree, he spotted Eldrin and Adaryn buzzing around her head as she slept. They darted off, but whatever they had done had woken her with a start, and she raised her head, looking around, confused. Not seeing anything, she grabbed at the towel she was laying on and lifted it with her as she slowly rose to her feet. She looked afraid to move, like it hurt.

    Zypher couldn't tear his eyes from the figure in front of him, towel draped only down her front, held with one hand as she untied her hair, shaking it over the bare skin of her neck and shoulders before adjusting the towel to cover the curves of her back and walking stiffly away from both the water and where he stood hidden.

    Willing his wings into motion so he could follow silently, he was so enthralled by the woman that it took him a moment to realize why he had not yet moved. He grunted to himself in frustration, and took his first few steps in pursuit as quietly as he could.

    The woman disappeared into a nearby dwelling that stood tall over his head. Waiting, and watching revealed no further activity, from her or anyone else, so he wandered cautiously up to the front door, which stood open.

    A woman's voice called from upstairs. Hers? There was no response, so he wandered inside, looking around.

    “Henry?” She called again.

    The voice was closer now. He looked up, and spotted her leaning over the top railing of the staircase, shoulders still exposed, her chest covered with a towel and staring down at him.

    “Oh, I'm sorry, the door was open. I'm Henry's friend Zypher. I don't see him around.”

    She frowned for a moment, then seemed to shrug it off.
    “I'm Alicia.” She looked like she was going to leave again, but hesitated, looking uncomfortable. “Uh – could you come up and help me please?”

    “Sure.” She disappeared in a hurry, and Zypher made the top of the stairs in no time. Walking into the only room with an open door revealed her laying on her stomach on her bed, feet on her pillow, and a sheet over her back and legs.

    “You can... call me Lici.” She winced, feeling awkward. “Could you look at my back?”

    “Yeah.” Lifting the sheet up to reveal her back, her skin was red raw, but her figure was absolutely divine. “Ouch.”

    “Yeah. Could you grab some moisturizer from the bathroom and a bucket of ice please?”

    “Of course.”

    Zypher found the bathroom around the corner, but he knew her moisturizer wouldn't do much for her without help. He wasn't as good at healing magic as he was at the illusions, but he could get by. For her, he wished he had paid a little more attention in that class. With her hurting that badly, there was no chance of him getting very far tonight – but he could fix that. How well he could fix it depended on how well this spell worked. He put everything he had into it, even though he knew using magic on humans was just as forbidden as being with one. It was an unfair advantage.

    He glanced over his shoulder in nervous excitement. A few words whispered, and he blew on his hands, spreading what looked like a thin film of glittery dust over them. Hopefully that would rub into the cream as he spread it around.

    Entering her bedroom again, she looked confused.
    “That's it? Where is the ice?”

    Zypher smiled confidently as he approached and flung the sheets completely off her. “Won't need it.”


    “Nope, don't want to hear it. Just relax. Trust me, you won't need anything else.” His voice was smoothly confident, calming her nerves.

    Sitting beside her, he squeezed lots of cream straight from the tube onto her back, and heard her inhale sharply when it landed. He poured more onto his hands and gently placed them on the soft skin of her back, swirling circles with the glitter dust. The instant his glittered hands touched her skin, he saw her tense; he worried that he had hurt her – that his spell hadn't worked at all – but he didn't let it phase him, rubbing more well-lubricated circles around her shoulder blades. His concern was quelled when she moaned. That was no moan of pain.

    Without lifting his hands from her back, Zypher straddled her, ensuring he didn't touch her with anything but his hands.

    “How do you do that?” Her voice was silky, dreamy.

    A knowing smile spread across his face.
    “Do what?” he worked his magic touch into her lower back as well.

    “Massage sunburn that bad without it hurting. That should-” she interrupted herself with another long moan that grew more high pitched as he ran his hands back up to her shoulders. Her arms were up, under her head, so he couldn't get a comfortable grip on her shoulders, so he settled with the back of her neck, before working his way down again, brushing over what was exposed of her breasts with his fingers.

    He didn't stop at the small of her back this time though, only slowed to circles again, now massaging the firm cheeks of her ass, wherever the skin was raw. She didn't protest, and her breathing evened out as she gave herself over to the relaxation – to him. He was running low on dust and she couldn't see, so he blew a fresh coating of glitter over his hands. He scooted his knees backwards down the bed and rubbed down one long leg at a time.

    Her next move was unexpected. She rolled over and propped herself up on her elbows to look at him, chest heaving and a flame of desire in her eyes. Now sitting at her feet, looking up at the length of her, he acknowledged that he had been right about his first impression of her – she was a goddess.
    And he had never wanted anyone more.


    “Oh; wow.” Lici lay panting on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I can't move.”

    Zypher, laying beside her, grinned with contentment. He raised himself up to one elbow and caressed her jawline, sending shivers of pleasure down her body. “You, Lici, are a goddess.”

    She managed a glance over at him, and did a double-take.
    “Are you okay?” Her forehead wrinkled in alarm and concern.

    “Why? What's wrong?”

    “Your... skin. You're turning blue! I should call an ambulance.” Lici tried to move.

    Zephyr leaped from the bed and made for the bathroom mirror. She was right. His skin was changing color.

    “No, I'll be okay, I just need to get home. Sorry.”

    Adrenaline shot through his veins as he bolted down the stairs and out the door, sprinting for the cover of the trees. He was barely out of sight of the house when he allowed his illusion to fall, and sure enough, his fairy skin was changing color too. He was now a bright blue. Even after letting his illusion fall, he didn't stop for a second, now using his wings for speed as he frantically tore around the underbrush and right into the fairy town, unable to avoid shoving past some other fairies as he hurtled straight into the fairy hospital's emergency ward.

    The nurses there saw him and stopped in their tracks, stunned.

    “What are you staring at? Help me!”

    Some of the nurses further away recovered somewhat from their shock, now trying to cover their mouths to hide their quiet laughter as they figured out what had happened.

    One male nurse approached him, trying unsuccessfully to hide a grin.

    “I thought it was only superstition dude. I've never seen anyone actually turn blue.”

    “Okay, haha, now fix me.”

    “No can do, blue fairy man. Once you're blue, you're through.”

    “Through? How so through?”

    “You've been marked by the curse. I know you were told humans are off-limits man. No excuses. Hope she was worth it dude!”
  10. LucyP

    LucyP Member

    Oct 30, 2009
    Likes Received:
    Manchester England
    Rebellion! (1,392 words)
    Calwaynn was an adept druid and a voice on the druid councils of two magical realms, an astonishing achievement for one living on a housing estate in Dagenham Essex.
    Today he was in his shed. Not a regular garden shed, mind you. You wouldn't find the mundane clutter of lawn mower, hedge trimmer, engine oil and flower pots in here. Oh no, this shed had a circle painted on the floor and a tea light at each of the cardinal points. On the small table at the far end lay a selection of magical wands and in an umbrella stand were his rune-inscribed conjuration staffs, all high quality wood donated by tree dryads as Calwaynn went on his frequent woodland rambles. Shelves lined the walls and were laden with old jars, screw-lids rusted into place. These jars contained heaven knows what floating in preservative liquids, even Calwaynn didn't make a habit of looking too closely at some of the contents. The druid was a peaceful, if eccentric old man with his long white beard and straggling white hair crowned with a well worn knitted cap with a bead decorated raven feather hanging from it. But as adept as he was, his talent always seemed to lean towards the darker end of druidry and magic. He never planned it that way, it just seemed to happen.

    He was currently engaged by a small figure standing in his circle. The fairy was just under a metre tall. stick thin and albino white with short cropped blonde hair and stubby points for ears. He was already here when Calwaynn came into the shed, unsummoned. The little guy had come here on his own.
    'On the run in fairyland? I find that hard to believe.'
    'It's true, I'm a renegade, thats why I don't have wings now. I'm going to be exiled, probably to your world.' the fairy gave a casual shrug. 'As a punishment.'
    Calwaynn glared his indignation. 'Our world is a punishment? You cheeky sod!'
    The fairy waved a hand. 'I don't mean it like that.

    'So why are they going to exile you?'
    The fairy stared at the jars on a shelf for a moment before looking back at Calwaynn. 'I formed The Faerie Freedom League because we want to change things. No more being summoned by humans, no more tending their gardens by moonlight and no more having to make a trip here every time a human child puts a bloody tooth under their pillow. Did you know some lazy humans even look at their piles of dirty washing and start wishing for a laundry fairy to come and sort it for them, have you any idea what that could lead to?'

    The fairy held his hands out, as though imploring Calwaynn to see the sense of what he said. 'We need to remove the old system, depose the King of the fairies and create some kind of republic.'
    Calwaynn nodded slowly as this all sank in. 'Revolution in fairyland.' he muttered as though this might help him believe it easier.
    'What is in that jar?'
    'What?' Calwaynn looked to the shelf the fairy pointed at.
    'That jar, what's in it? It just looked at me and winked!!'
    'Oh that, I don't know, the label came off a several thousand years ago. But I do know it was indigenous to Atlantis. I think it was one of a pair Noah rescued, but they never bred. Probably shock after the flooding, and so thats the only one left.'

    Calwaynn tried to get the conversation back on track. 'I need to know why you are here with me?'
    'I need your help if the revolution is to be successful ... what's in those jars? the ones with the Egyptian Hieroglyphics on the labels?'
    'Forget the bloody jars! I need to know what you want from me!'

    The fairy thought before continuing, 'I opened a doorway to this place because I thought you might be able to help us in our struggle, your ... shed could be a base of operations for the FFL.'
    'Are you mad?'
    The fairy shook his head. 'I've never been more serious in my life. You have given us things before to take back to fairyland, things that have helped in many ways.'
    'I have given nothing, things have been stolen, and thats different.'
    The fairy persisted. 'The point is you've had things that helped us, and I really think you could help the fairyfolk in their bid for freedom. Just overthrowing the established order there will break the enthrallment between our worlds.'

    Calwaynn sat on his stool and rubbed his forehead, he was getting a headache with all this. 'I don't know what I can do, I really don't.'

    The fairy sank down cross-legged as the conversation fell into silence. The little fella looked a bit sad and depressed, it seemed clear from his expression he had been hoping for help and Calwaynn had nothing to offer. Guilt kicked in the druids heart.
    The fairy looked up with sad and tired eyes, he nodded. 'I've lived on berries for this last few days.
    'I can make a sandwich, what do you fancy'
    The fairy brightened slightly. 'Slug and earwig honey?'
    The druid smiled softly and nodded.
    'Spread it nice and thick please.'

    Calwaynn stood and went to the shed door, I'll get you a glass of milk too, when you've eaten we'll discuss what I might or might not be able to do.'
    The fairy nodded and smiled, a smile plastered across his face until Calwaynn had left the shed and headed into his house. The fairy stood up and walked to the edge of the circle and with an exaggerated stride, stepped out of it. He had been breaking down the circle even as he chatted with the silly old fool. Now he gazed up at the shelves. He had no idea what was in the jars but surely there must be something here that would help the cause. The stool scrapped on the floorboards as the fairy dragged it to the shelves and stood on it. 'right, lets see.'

    Calwaynn only kept a little fairy food in the fridge because of how it went off, this smelt a bit rank but it would be ok. He spread the yellowish green goo thickly and put it on the tray along with a tall glass of milk. As he walked towards the shed his senses were telling him something was out of order, then as he reached the shed door heard the clinking of glass against glass. He frowned, puzzled at the noises, the possibilities not registering at all.

    Stepping into the shed he immediately realised the fairy wasn't in the circle, the second thing he noticed was that at least a dozen jars were on the table. Some lids partly unscrewed, but thank the gods were still in place.

    'What the hell are you doing!' Calwaynn cried as the tray crashed to the floor signalling his body reacting at last. The old magus leapt towards the fairy as the little political rebel spun to face the druid, several jars clutched to his chest.
    'I will bring these back, I promise. Whatever they are, I'm sure they can aid our struggle.' He then stepped to oneside and with a wave of his hand and a muttered incantation, vanished.

    The druid's flailing arms swept through the air where a moment before, the fairy had stood. Breathing heavily and with panic in his eyes, he turned and stared at the jars littering the table, he shook his head, incapable of any other action as he looked at each of the jars in turn. The little bastard had taken 3 jars with hieroglyphics and one that had contents he'd never been able to identify, but knew had been part of the reason there had been a problem in Salem.

    Calwaynn sank on to his stool and stared at the gateway to fairyland, the last sparking of it's energy dissipating into nothingness. His hands started to shake and he wondered how Fairyland would cope if the rebel leader unscrewed the lids and unleashed three of the biblical plagues of Egypt, and whatever it was that had crept into Salem on that night in 1692.

    'oh my, oh my, oh my.' The magician muttered as he stared at the now vanished gateway to fairyland.
  11. InkDream

    InkDream New Member

    Oct 26, 2009
    Likes Received:
    the Evergreen State
    Changeling (518 words)

    It was forbidden, of course, mixing with the humans. But he really hadn’t been able to stop himself, his curiosity burned too bright. He’d spent most of his life in the woods, among other fey creatures such as himself. Until one day a human girl hiking with her family had gotten lost. She ended up deep in the heart of the forest, a place where man rarely dared to wander--some long forgotten sixth sense would warn them off. The girl was small and fierce, she never showed any fear even when the light began to fade and the pregnant darkness of night crept in through the trees.

    Lysander watched her pull a jacket from her pack and wrap herself up in it, huddling under a tree. She curled into a little ball and dozed off. Feeling bold, Lysander went to the girl to get a better look. He’d never seen a human up close before, let alone one that wasn’t fully grown.

    She looked delicate to him. He wondered what had made her wander off the trail. Most likely it was a will-o’-the-wisp, a fairy like a siren of the land. They appeared as a beautiful and hypnotic light to lead people astray until they were hopelessly lost. Sometimes they did it for the mere satisfaction of watching a human die, other times it was because game was scarce and they wanted meat. Most fairy tales left that bit out. Lysander decided that nothing would make a meal of this girl. He stood watch over her through the night to be sure.

    When she woke she found him perched over her. The girl did not start, her eyes did not widen in fear as most would at waking to see a hobgoblin staring down at them. She only sat up to get a better look. It was then that he noticed her eyes. It was not something that most humans would ever notice but her eyes had a light behind them that was uncommon. It was as if her very soul burned in her eyes. She had a beautiful soul. He knew her for what she was then.

    The girl was a changeling. A fairy child that had been fashioned to look human and put in the place of a human baby. They always found their way back eventually.

    “Welcome home, little one.” he said and she smiled.
  12. stephenwdennis

    stephenwdennis New Member

    Nov 3, 2009
    Likes Received:
    Hong Kong
    The Rebel Fairy (854 words)

    “Any last words?” the old guard asked me.

    I couldn’t help but to let out a grin. I couldn’t see their faces behind the two-way mirror, but I’m sure that infuriated them even more. Good. Let them be angry. Let them lust for my blood.

    I bet they thought I’d beg for mercy. I bet they thought I’d show fear. Truth is, I am afraid — but I ain’t about to give them the satisfaction. No way. I’m too close to give it all up now.

    You see, for those of you stuck in Neverland for the past two decades, I am the one they call Jack, the leader of the resistance, the rebel fairy. They tried to silence me, they tried to control me, they tried to buy me off — but this horse was meant to run free.

    “How’d you get so angry?” they used to ask me.

    “I’m not angry,” I’d say. “I’m alive.”

    Funny, the looks I’d get. You see it all started about twenty years ago, when I got my first assignment — doe-eyed rookie, out to change the world. I get dropped in on this little girl. She goes on and on about this thing she wants, and that thing she wants. It was quite shocking to me really, cause I was looking around this little girl’s room and, to me, she already had everything: Barbie’s Dream House, My Little Pony, TV, VCR, Easy Bake Oven — you name it.

    So I looked up at her and I says, “What you need all this for?”

    Well, I was back on the yo-yo string up to the council before the tantrum had even started. “We don’t ask why,” they told me.

    So this goes on for about another year or so — they send me down, they bring me right back up. “Attitude problem,” they says. “Not fit to serve.”

    But all I wanna know is, why do we keep getting sent down to these fussy little rich girls when there’s poor kids with not enough to eat on the other side of the town? Nobody’s got an answer for me.

    They don’t wanna deal with me anymore though. They ship me off to some godforsaken children’s book — an extra among extras. They hoped that would shut me up. Big mistake.

    You see, when they stuck me with all the other “rejected” fairies, I found I had brothers. Getting them to join me was easy. Hell, I don’t know, maybe I joined them.

    Anyway, we started off small — ruining some little rich girl’s birthday, buzzing around in the Queen’s ear. But it wasn’t enough. We needed to go big.

    That’s when we decided to start hitting the council where it hurt. We started infiltrating into their new recruits — get in their heads before the council could. Pretty soon, temper tantrums were being raised all through the Western Hemisphere.

    The council, they didn’t know what to do. Fairies had never stood up for themselves before. Fairies had never asked “why”. So they decided we should have a “meeting”, if that’s what you wanna call it. My lieutenants, they didn’t want me to go. But I couldn’t be afraid. I had to go; I had to see them face to face.

    So I get to their “meeting”, and would you believe it, those suckers tried to buy me off. They didn’t understand me or the resistance at all. We never cared about money, or power — we wanted to shake up the money, shake up the power — we wanted change.

    See, the council could never understand that. The world’s changed man. But the council, they’re stuck in their little box, in their own little world. I told them as much. And when I tried to leave their little “meeting”, they weren’t having it. They tried to stop me; they tried to take my wings. But I got out of there. Yeah, sure, they got one of my wings, but I still got the other one — and that’s all I need.

    After the “meeting”, things got intense. It was open war between the resistance and the council. Who’d have thought it? They preached about love and peace and happiness, yet here they were, going to war over a difference of opinion. Funny how folks can justify just about anything to get what they want.

    Hell, I don’t know, maybe you could say the same thing about us. Maybe we never should’ve gone to war. Heh, maybe I am gettin soft. But I tell ya, nothing would have ever changed if we weren’t willing to fight for it.

    So no, I can’t see them behind that mirror, but I know they’re seething. Maybe that was all I needed to do — to strip away the mask, to show them for what they truly are. They’ll stop at nothing for their power, so now those “happy, peace-loving” fairies are gonna fry me. Let them! Let them show their true colors.

    So I look up at the old guard and I tell him, “I am Jack’s happy ending.”

    “Huh?” he says back to me.

    “Hurry up,” I grin into the mirror.

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