by R. T. Kaelin
She remembered the boy she had met in the woods, and his matter-of-fact acceptance of his state. He’d rather be dead than alive—did everyone in the Shadowlands feel that way?
She turned to face Quaren squarely. “You’d rather stay here than go back to life again.” It was a statement, not a question, but he nodded anyway.
“Wouldn’t you?” he asked.
Oriana looked at the trees, glittering brightly green in the pure otherworldly sunlight. She knew exactly what he meant. More than she had ever wanted anything in her life, she wanted to stay in this bright land. But she was only a shadow here, and the light, for all its beauty, was painful to her. “I wish I could see it all properly. Why do they call it the Shadowlands when it’s so bright here?”
“You’ll be able to see it in time.”
Oriana nodded, choking back the sob caught in her throat. “When my time comes.” Even through her veils she could see rainbows as the sun caught her tears. “But that could be years and years!”
Quaren’s reply was no comfort. “Yes. It could be.”
“And I’d have to go through them all alone—I don’t want to do that!”
“Would you rather drag me back, so that I can die again, possibly of some long lingering illness which would have both of us wishing I’d stayed dead?”
“You’re just afraid to go back!” she accused him.
“Not afraid,” he said calmly. “I know what’s back there and what’s here. I died, Oriana. My place is here now. You can take me back to the outer world with you, but, now that I’ve been here, part of me will always remain here.”
Oriana burst into tears, knowing now that what he said was true. She could take him home with her, but for the rest of their lives together she would be living with a husband who wished to be elsewhere. It certainly cast a new light on the legends. Perhaps Orfeo’s loss of his wife on their journey back to the land of the living had not been a mistake after all.
It would be hard enough for her to live contentedly in the world now that she knew what lay beyond. For Quaren, knowing that he truly didn’t belong among the living, it would be worse. Unhappy as she would be without him, she couldn’t take him back against his wish.
“You’re right,” she sighed. “It’s not the act of a loving spouse to drag you back.” Her fingers clung convulsively to his. “But oh, I’ll miss you.”
“You’ll know where to find me.”
She forced a smile. “On the terrace, debating philosophy.” She reached out with a shaking hand to pull her veils off him. “Just remember that I love you.” She leaned forward to hug him convulsively with her free arm, then deliberately released him and lifted the dagger out of his hand. For a moment he glowed, even more brightly than the sun.
Then everything was gone.
* *** *
It was dark, and cold, and the stone under her was hard. Gradually, as her eyes adjusted, Oriana made out her surroundings. She lay on the floor of the chapel, across the room from the bier which still held Quaren’s body. Her face was wet with tears, her veils were scattered about the room as if blown by a strong wind, and Quaren’s dagger was gripped tightly in her hand.
She sat up, mopped her wet face with her skirt, and walked over to the bier. Was it her imagination, or was there a peace on Quaren’s face that had not been there before? She looked at the dagger she still held. Two parts of the braid around the hilt were brown. The third was a brilliant silver-blue. She smiled as she placed it between his clasped hands. Then she gathered up her veils and unlocked the door of the chapel. The priest would need to get in to prepare for the funeral.
*
Wish Upon a Star
by Janine Spendlove
The light in the dingy bathroom began to grow far more than the little nightlight could have supplied. Carla stopped crying long enough to pull her frizzy black curls from her face, and look around the tiny space. Seated on the toilet lid she could easily see the faded blue and white tiled floors that continued halfway up the wall and all the way up the ceiling. In the corner was the shower with the bright yellow sunflower shower curtain.
“It’s the only bright thing in my life these days.” The tears came back unbidden, and streamed down her cheeks, pooling for a bit on her chin before they dropped down on her cotton shorts. They said “juicy” on the bum, and he had given them to her.
“That should have been my first clue!” Carla blotted at her smearing mascara with a wad of toilet paper.
“Yes, it should have.”
“Whaaaaa—” The toilet paper fell out of her hands and she looked around frantically, heart racing so fast she could feel it in her ears. This bathroom was hardly large enough for her, much less a second person.
“Over here,” the voice called again. It was high-pitched, feminine sounding, and coming from the sink.
Carla flashed her gaze over to the surface of the stained sink. She scanned the toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, floss, mouthwash—back to the floss. There atop the square dispenser of mint flavored dental tape sat a tiny woman. She was glittery gold from head to toe and swathed in gossamer silk that seemed to ebb and flow with the soft beating of her gold butterfly wings
Shooting to her feet, Carla tried to back away. She succeeded only in cracking her head on the twist handle she’d used to open the window to let in cool winter air a few minutes back.
“Mier—”
“Ah! None of that. Or I am leaving. Mind your manners and your language please.” The tiny woman folded her arms across her chest and Carla thought she could make out a frown on her minuscule face.
“I’m sorry!”
The woman covered her ears and glared up at Carla. “No need to yell! I can hear you just fine.”
“I’m sorry.” Carla said in a much quieter voice. She leaned in closer, trying to get a better look. “How can I hear you? You’re so tiny.”
“Magic of course. I’m a fairy. What, did you think I was, a cockroach?”
“You’d fit right in if you were.” Carla sat back down on the toilet seat with a large sigh and reached down to pick up her discarded wad of toilet paper. “I won’t be sad to see the back end of this dump.” She directed her attention back to fairy. “So, what’s your name fairy? And why are you here?”
“My name is Kiana and I am here because you asked for me.”
“I didn’t ask for you. I was sitting here feeling sorry for myself over that pendejo, Victor and that pu—” At a sharp look from Kiana, she amended, “er, Elena. I saw a shooting star, and then I wished…” She looked back at Kiana, realization dawning on her face. “Wait, did you say you were a fairy?”
“I did. I am your fairy godmother to be exact.”
“But how—”
“It is the only way you could have seen my flying by.” Kiana stood up and brandished a long, thin wand, as gold as the rest of her. She gave it a wave and sent up a scattering of gold sparks. “It always starts the same way: the crying, the despair. Then you look up, see me fly by, and thinking I am a shooting star you send me your wish.”
The fairy pursed her tiny lips. “It does not matter that I am not a star—not that there is anything wrong with being a star, I have many friends who are stars—what matters is you, the humans, send me a wish and once I hear it I have to pay you a visit.”
Kiana shrugged, a cloud of gold glitter puffing up around her. “Now then, if we could just get started? I was on my way to visit an old friend. Kris gets very busy this time of year, and I like to help him and the missus out where I can.”
Carla sat up straight. “Oh, yeah, I’m sorry. I’m new to this.”
“As it happens I am not, so then if there are no changes to your wish?” The fairy raised her wand and waited.
Wringing her mascara streaked toilet paper, Carla looked down at her knees. “Well…”
The fairy lowered her wand.
“Well what?”
“I…what I really want…”
“Out with it ch
ild! You are not twelve, you are thirty-seven. Act like it.” The fairy cocked her head to side examining Carla’s horror struck face. “Oh come on now, does anyone actually believe you when you tell them you are twenty-nine?”
“Victor…” Carla’s voice trailed off as her fairy godmother shook her head. “Fine! If Victor wants that nineteen-year-old hija de, er, that is to say Elena, fine. He can have her! I don’t want him anyway.” She stood up and began pacing the bathroom, which didn’t take long – two steps and she’d reached one end before she had to turn back around and go the other way.
“I want a man who dotes on me. No, I want a man who worships me for the goddess I am.” She lifted her hand and began ticking off items on her fingers as she said them.
“I want a man who is sensitive, you know, likes chick flicks.” One finger. “I want a man who only wants to have sex when I want to, and if that’s only once a month, so be it.” Two fingers. “I want a man who lets me hold the remote and watches telenovelas with me, and isn’t obsessed with going with ‘the boys’ every weekend to watch the game.” Four fingers. “I want a man who cleans up after himself, and loves to do the dishes.” Five fingers.
The fairy raised her wand. “If that is all?”
Carla raised her other hand and began counting on it as she paced. Kiara lowered her wand with a sigh.
“He’d better be rich.” Six fingers down. “And handsome. No giant moles or anything.” Seven fingers. “He’ll want to play with my hair, and he’ll never leave the toilet seat up.” Nine fingers down. She turned toward her fairy godmother. “Yeah, I think that’s it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Carla nodded her head, and smiled. “This is what I want. I’m tired of all the pendejos who don’t appreciate me and all I have to offer. I want the perfect man.”
“Well, if that is what you truly wish,” The fairy raised her wand and flew over top of Carla’s head, sending a flurry of gold glitter down around her, “then you shall have it.”
* *** *
One year later
Carla’s old house could have easily fit into the massive marble and gold inlaid bathroom. Yet she once again found herself perched on the toilet seat – the gold toilet seat – sopping up her tears with a wad of triple-ply super soft toilet paper.
“When am I going to learn to wear waterproof mascara?” She dabbed at her eyes, and blew her nose.
“That is a very good question.”
“Híjole!” Carla dropped her toilet paper and popped her head through the doorway leading into the room that held the toilet and bidet – something she still hadn’t figured out how to use. There, several feet away on the pristine marble sink was a haze of gold hovering over the liquid soap dispenser.
“You!”
“Me.”
Shooting to her feet, Carla stomped over to her fairy godmother. Her long silk robe fluttered behind her as she moved. She tossed her smooth, highlighted hair that cost her more than a month of tips would have her earned her before now.
“You ruined my life!” Carla jabbed an elegantly manicured and painted fingernail in Kiara’s direction.
The fairy deftly avoided the attacking appendage, leaving a trail of gold dust in her wake. “I gave you your wish. How is Edward, by the way?”
“Eduardo! And he is… fine.”
“Oh, sorry, I have many god children and sometimes it is difficult to keep you all straight.” The fairy cocked her tiny head to the side. “If I remember correctly, you wanted the perfect man.”
“Eduardo is not the perfect man.” Carla folded her arms beneath her breasts. “He is… fine.”
“I though you wanted someone who was rich.” Kiara looked around the massive bathroom. “If the rest of the house matches this I would say you got that.”
“Well, yes—”
“And you said you wanted someone handsome. I have seen your Eduardo, and he is quite the looker. No moles at all.”
“Yes, but—”
Her fairy godmother flew into the small room with the toilet and bidet. “He leaves the toilet seat down and your house is immaculately clean.”
“Yes, I know and that is the problem!” Carla threw her hands up and began pacing the significant length of the bathroom, making a wide circle around a tub large enough for six people.
Kiara joined her, flying over shoulder. “I do not understand. How is that a problem? Isn’t this the man you wanted?”
“That…joto is not a man!” Carla spat the words as if they were hot coals in her mouth.
“Is he not sensitive?” The hint of a smile tugged at Kiara’s miniscule mouth.
An unladylike snort escaped Carla and she whirled on the fairy. “Sensitive? He cries when we watch telenovelas!”
“I thought you wanted a man who would watch telenovelas with you?”
“He cries when we make love! Every. Single. Time.” She resumed her pacing. “He never argues with me. Always says ‘whatever you want my bonboncita’. What pendejo calls a woman that?
“It was not like this at first, no. Eduardo swooped into the restaurant and sat my table. He said hello, but nothing more. Then I started noticing he was coming more often until I saw him every day. Eventually he talked to me, and finally, after a lot not so subtle hinting on my part, he asked me out. Three weeks later, he gave me this ring.”
She held up her hand, containing a massive pink diamond ring for Kiara to inspect. “It was perfect, like a dream. He was rich, he loved me, he doted on me, wanted to always be with me, never went off with his friends.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” There was no mistaking the smile crossing the fairy’s lips now.
“No! I mean, yes. No!” Carla shook her head. “He never stops! The only reason he’s not here now ‘comforting me’ is because I slipped a sleeping pill in his evening hot chocolate. He doesn’t think for himself. He only follows me around, ‘whatever you want my bonboncita’.” She scrubbed a hand across her face. “He is like a robot! We don’t even have a maid because he takes such great joy in cleaning every inch of the house. And he never wants me, you know.” Carla gave the fairy a meaningful look.
“But you just said he lives to fulfill your every whim.”
“Not that like, idiota!” Carla swatted at the hovering fairy as if she was a bothersome bug.
“Hey!” Kiara flew back in a flurry of angry sparks. “None of that.”
“Sorry.” Carla let out a heavy sigh and sat on the edge of the tub. “He never wants me like a man wants a woman.”
“You mean he never…” Kiara let the sentence dangle.
“No, no, no, not like that. If I initiate things, then he is a very amicable lover. Always making sure I’m satisfied.”
“And that is a bad thing?”
“Yes! I want a man in my bed, not a weepy woman. Or whatever he is. I’m worse off now than I was with that cheating hijo de, er, that is to say Victor.”
Kiara flew a few inches off Carla’s nose, so close Carla almost had to cross her eyes to look at the fairy.
“This is exactly what you asked for. This is how you defined the perfect man. Are you saying you no longer want him?”
“I… no, I do love him. I would not have married him otherwise. It’s just that I would like him to think for himself, you know? It’s not only about me.”
A smile so large Carla could have easily seen it from across the room blossomed across the fairy’s face as Kiara raised her wand. “And so you shall have your wish.”
One year later
Carla bent over the toilet and heaved. The one with the gold seat was long gone, along with most of Eduardo’s wealth, lost in a foolish business deal Carla had advised against. She couldn’t complain too much. He was free to think for himself.
His warm fingers brushed across the nape of her neck as he held her hair back while she continued to vomit.
“I’m so sorry you’re so sick, bonboncita. But I’m not sorry putting you in this predicament.” H
e eyed her still flat abdomen meaningfully. It was still early enough in Carla’s pregnancy that she wasn’t yet showing.
“I told you not to call me that.” She heaved again, and he rubbed a soothing hand along her back.
“I know, bonboncita. That’s why I do it.” He grinned at her and passed her a hand towel for her to wipe her mouth.
After she cleaned herself up, Eduardo helped her get shakily to her feet, and pulled her into a hug. “Would you hate me if I went out with the guys to watch the game tonight?”
Carla felt a hint of a smile cross her lips. “No.”
He pulled back and looked her straight in her eyes. “Are you sure? Because I’ll stay if you want me to.”
“I know, carino, I know.” She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. “Go have fun with your friends. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Eduardo pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I love you, Carla.”
Following him out of the bathroom Carla absentmindedly picked up discarded socks and other strewn articles of clothing he left in his wake. He still cried when they watched telenovelas, but at least he left the toilet seat down. Despite their more humble circumstances they had passion in their marriage, a child on the way, several heated arguments under their belts, and a perennially messy home. Carla found that she had never been happier.
A shooting star caught her eye through the window. Carla smiled.
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome.”
*
A Happy Mother Takes Away Pain
by C.J. Henderson
The woman stood in the shower, relaxing under the steaming splash of water cascading onto her from above. She had finished cleaning herself some time earlier. Now, she wished only to relax, to be herself, or more specifically, to be free of the voices and the pain of humanity.
The woman was a psychometrist, one who could tell the age of a stone by touching it, or know the lies within one’s soul by staring into their eyes. Thus, she was not merely washing away perspiration, but also cleaning herself of both the filthy linger of humanity, the obnoxious stares and thoughts and miscellaneous dreams picked up from the riff raff as they stared at her, as well as the assorted bits of nightmare and horror adrift in the ether which constantly found their way to her despite her best efforts.