A Fairy's Guide to Disaster

by A W Hartoin

  “Rebecca,” said Sarah to the mom. “You look like a dream.”

  Rebecca kissed Sarah’s pale cheek. “Thank you, Gram. This party is amazing.”

  “You deserve it. I can’t wait to show you your present. Don’t look outside.”

  “That’s too much,” said Rebecca. “You shouldn’t have gotten me a present, too.”

  “Do I get a present? Do I get a present?” Tess hopped up and down, her skirt popping open like an umbrella.

  “When you graduate,” said Sarah.

  Tess pouted, but hugged her great-grandmother anyway. They turned to spy Judd thumping down the stairs, looking marginally better than before. His thick hair was brushed back from his face, which appeared freshly scrubbed. Sarah kissed him and he wiped his cheek with the back of his hand.

  Gerald and I flew to our side of the mantel and landed on the shelf near Iris. She caught Easy after he slid down the candlestick. When Easy saw me, he tapped his mouth.

  “He’s hungry, too. Can we eat yet?” Horc asked.

  “In a minute,” said Iris. “What did you find? Was Easy right?”

  “We found trow.” Gerald straightened up to his full insubstantial height and tried to look like an expert. “They’re harmless.”

  “I wouldn’t say that exactly. I just know that Soren wasn’t afraid of them,” I said.

  “What do we do?” asked Iris.

  I shrugged. “There’s nothing to do until they wake up.”

  “I’ll get some food,” said Gerald.

  “All right,” I said. “Get a carrying bag first and make sure you get enough for everyone.”

  Gerald blushed a furious pink to the tips of his ears. “You mean by myself?”

  “Sure. If you can handle it?”

  Gerald spread his wings slightly. “I’ll do it.”

  “Call out if you need anything and be careful. There’s a lot of activity going on out there.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” Gerald hovered above us for a second and then flitted over the edge of the mantel.

  “Do you think that was a good idea?” asked Iris.

  “Gerald needs to feel important. Just keep a sharp ear out for problems.”

  We took the babies inside the mantel. I opened the windows, letting light and delicious smells from the party waft in. With that goodness around me, the disaster didn’t seem so bad. My precious things were shattered, but everything important could be mended. Seeing Sarah made me think that anything was possible. Sarah believed in fairies. It wouldn’t be very hard for her to believe in me. Sarah would take us to Whipplethorn and we would find our parents.

  I found Mom’s broom and swept a clean spot in Iris’s room. It remained the least messy. “Iris, let’s put the babies in here.”

  Iris found a clean blanket and laid Easy on it. He yawned and rolled over. I sat Horc down and he pinched his nose. “Stink.”

  “Smell that, do you?” asked Iris. “That’s my mattress you ruined.”

  Horc blinked at her as though he had no idea what she was talking about. I found the mattress on the other side of the room folded in half.

  “We have to get rid of it,” I gasped.

  Iris nodded and pointed to the window. We dragged the mattress over to the window and tried to stuff it through. The mattress wouldn’t begin to fit, so I got one of dad’s saws and cut it in half. That didn’t work either, but cutting it into quarters did. When we pushed the last bit out of the window, I leaned out to see where the pieces had fallen just in time to see one of the dogs suck them up his left nostril.

  “Gross,” I said.

  “What happened?” Iris pushed past me and looked.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “One of the dogs is sneezing. I wonder if dogs get colds,” said Iris as Gerald returned carrying two bags and glowing with pride.

  “I got so much. You won’t believe it,” he said.

  We ate cheese and fruit and a type of dark pungent bread none of us recognized. The babies went to sleep on a pallet in Iris’s room and I started cleaning in earnest. By the time I got the kitchen in order, the party outside was in full swing. Iris stopped working every few minutes to peek out and admire the dresses or the food. I hardly got any work out of her after I told her about Sarah. Iris gave me reports on Sarah’s movements every five minutes.

  “It’s getting dark outside, Matilda. The sun must be going down,” said Iris.

  “Okay. I think we should just take all the broken furniture down to Dad’s workshop to get it out of the way until he can fix it,” I said.

  “Sarah is really old. She might go home. You better go out there and talk to her.”

  “She’s never going to notice me in all that excitement. I’ll wait until people start going home.”

  “But it might be too late then.”

  Iris had a point, but I didn’t think it could be helped. It was really hard for a human to see a fairy. If there were distractions around, it would be impossible.

  Iris leaned out the window. “Come and look, Matilda.” Iris’s dress hiked up and revealed her dimpled thighs. She looked just the way she had the morning the humans came to Whipplethorn.

  “They just rolled in this huge desk with a bow,” Iris said.

  The desk was the one Sarah purchased at the antique mall. Now it shone with fresh lemon oil and had a red bow on top. Rebecca hugged Sarah and wiped tears from her eyes.

  Iris turned to me. “Rebecca said it’s just like Grandpa’s fairy desk, isn’t it? What does that mean?”

  “Sarah’s husband used to tell stories about fairies living in his father’s desk,” I said.

  “What happened to that desk?”

  “The family sold it when they lost all their money.” I smoothed back my hair. “Help me find my yellow dress. It’s the brightest.”

  “Are you going to talk to her now?”

  “As soon as I get ready.”

  Iris found my dress wadded up under my dresser. I shook the broken glass off and slipped it on. Iris combed my hair, and rubbed some of Mom’s favorite scent on my wrists for good measure. Gerald stopped his trash hauling to check out my new look. He nodded his approval and went back to work. Iris led me to the front door and then hugged me.

  “I just know you’ll do it. Gerald is right. You can do anything.”

  Iris’s face shone with her belief in me. I kissed her forehead to hide my own expression. One second I was sure I could do it and the next I felt I was inadequate to the task. What made me think I could do it, when six generations said I couldn’t?

  I flew out the door and wove my way through the crowded room past adults and children. They were carrying plates of food with such delightful smells they almost distracted me from my mission. I glanced back at the mantel. It gleamed with two dozen candles lit on top and Iris waving at me from the front door. Her smiling face was all the inspiration I needed.

  Sarah sat alone upstairs, dozing in a cushioned chair in the big bedroom. I fluttered around the room, trying to work up a plan. Trying was so scary. If I failed, who knew when I’d get another opportunity. I could wait around all night, but it was clear no plan was going to form in my brain. There was nothing for it but to go ahead.

  I circled Sarah’s head twice, looking for a place to land. Sarah’s hands lay folded in her lap. Her thumb looked like the best, most-stable spot. I hovered over it for a second and then landed. My feet touched the wrinkled warm skin and I looked up at Sarah’s face. Nothing. No reaction at all.

  “Sarah. Wake up!” I shouted.

  Sarah didn’t move. I shouted until my voice grew hoarse and tears ran down my face. It wasn’t working. How would I tell Iris and Gerald and the babies? They were so sure I could do it. I yelled again, my voice cracking and strained. I spread my wings and stomped as hard as I could, driving my heels into Sarah’s tender skin. I teetered and almost fell off. But I managed steady myself and look up at Sarah once more. A sigh escaped Sarah’s faded lips and her eyes
opened. Just a glimpse of blue at first and then before I could think, those eyes looked right at me.

  I held my breath. Sarah shook her head. Her soft silver hair caressed her cheeks. Those blue eyes stayed on me, but drooped toward sleep. I waved my arms over my head. I stomped. I shouted. I was so close. Sarah blinked and her gaze grew more intense. A little thrill of satisfaction shivered through my body.

  “Gram?” Rebecca’s voice came from behind me.

  Sarah’s eyes popped open and she sat up straight. “Yes, dear?”

  “No!” I screamed, waving more frantically than ever.

  “Are you ready to go? Evan will drive you,” said Rebecca.

  “I’m ready. Give me a hand up, will you?”

  I spread my wings and drove my heels into Sarah’s knuckle. “No! See me. You have to see me.”

  Sarah’s eyes stayed on Rebecca’s face. I jumped up and down, but I couldn’t get Sarah to look at me again.

  Rebecca patted her grandmother’s shoulder. “You had the funniest look in your eyes when I came in. Were you daydreaming?”

  Sarah smiled up at her. “I certainly hope so.”

  Rebecca lifted Sarah to her feet and I tumbled off her thumb. I didn’t try to break my fall. I let myself roll down the length of Sarah’s body and land on the cushy carpet. Sarah took a careful step. She wavered on her feet. Rebecca held her arm and put another around her waist.

  “Why do you hope you were dreaming?” asked Rebecca.

  I watched the women with tears rolling down my chin.

  “Because I thought I saw something that couldn’t possibly be there. It had to be a dream since I’m not senile yet. I hope to avoid that particular indignity.”

  Rebecca led Sarah away from me. “I wouldn’t worry about that. You’re sharper than most people I know.”

  Their voices faded from my ears as soon as they crossed the room. I sat with my legs splayed, just the way Mom taught me not to. It wasn’t dignified for a girl, but I didn’t feel like pretending to be dignified. I was a big failure. Sitting nicely wouldn’t change that. My wings drooped on the carpet and my black hair concealed my lap as I slumped, trying to think of a way to tell the others what happened without causing them give up hope. I stared out the doorway, wondering what to do next, when a brilliant flash of blue made me sit up. Tess danced past the door, followed by her brother, who wasn’t dancing so much as fighting, his imagination in full flight. He swung an imaginary sword and pretended to get bashed on the head.

  A flicker of hope alighted in my mind.

  Children.

  Dad once said that children were more likely to see fairies. They were more open to possibilities. I’d never been able to test the theory since children didn’t often hike in the national forest next to Whipplethorn, just grizzled men smelling of stale sweat and mosquito repellent.

  I jumped to my feet and fluttered to the doorway. Both Tess and Judd’s doors were open. They were getting ready for bed, undressing and apparently not shy about it. They stripped to their underpants and slipped on pajamas. Judd resumed his sword fight and Tess danced in a circle, flapping her arms. I never considered Judd given his sweaty boy stink and went straight into the girl’s room. Tess flapped over to her bookcase and chose a book called Pippi Longstocking. Two legs with miss-matched stockings and enormous shoes decorated the cover. Tess dashed to her bed, flung herself on it, bounced twice, and burrowed under the covers.

  I waited as Tess settled herself on her fluffy pillows. She pulled multiple pins out of her hair and unwound the long braids from around her head. She ran her fingers through her hair until it lay shimmering in soft waves down over the covers. She picked up her book and opened it, propping it on her chest. Then I flew over and landed on Tess’s pillow. But the pillow was so soft I couldn’t keep my footing and slid down the slick fabric until I landed on Tess’s shoulder. Tess didn’t notice, but at that moment I didn’t care. The book, the human book, was open to me. Its large black letters decorated the page just like in fairy books.

  Tess’s lips mouthed the words. I settled on her shoulder and read along. Every page or so Tess giggled. I considered getting Iris so she could read the book, too, but I couldn’t make myself miss a second. The story enchanted me. A little girl all alone in the world having adventures and longing for her lost parent. The book could’ve been written for me personally.

  “Tess,” said her mom, Rebecca, from the doorway. “Ten minutes until lights out.”

  “Okay. Night, Mom,” said Tess, not bothering to look up from the page.

  Ten minutes. It wasn’t much time. I tore my eyes away from the story and flew to the top of the book. I landed on the spine and watched Tess’s face for signs that something unusual had occurred. Tess’s eyes moved back and forth, not noticing me at all.

  I waved a little wave. I wanted Tess to see me, but I didn’t know how Tess would react. With Sarah I was reasonably sure there would be joy and fascination, but Tess was young. She might scream and freak out.

  “Hello!” I yelled.

  Tess kept reading.

  I grew bolder with Tess’s lack of response. I stomped on the book, screamed, and pounded the paper with my fists. My voice broke and still Tess’s eyes never left the page. When I couldn’t croak out another word, I slid down the page to Tess’s chest. Sadness welled up. If Tess wouldn’t see me, what hope was there? Maybe our parents would come and maybe they wouldn’t. Tess was our last chance for human help. The parents didn’t believe in fairies and any shot at Judd was doomed to failure. He wouldn’t notice me if I was on fire.

  Fire. Why hadn’t I thought of it before?

  I flew back up to the spine. With the book so close, I feared an accident, so I formed a teeny flame in my palm. Tess didn’t notice what must’ve been a pinprick of light to her. It wasn’t enough. So I left the book and hovered above it. I grew my flame until it was the size of my head and tinged with blue. Tess’s eyes still flitted across the page, but hesitated when she changed from the left page to the right. I concentrated. My flame grew again and began crackling with short snaps of energy. I stared at Tess’s face, willing her to see. Dad said I had to want it very badly to make a human see me. Very badly didn’t come close to what I was feeling. This wasn’t just for me. It wasn’t about me. This was for everyone I loved.

  Tess’s head tilted forward. She stared right at my flame. Then she gasped and jerked her head back, dropping her book onto her lap. I flew to Tess’s eye level and spread my wings as wide as they could go.

  “Tess!” I cried. “See me!”

  “Oh,” whispered Tess.

  “Tess! Do you see me?”

  “Um…” Tess’s eyes darted around the room and I knew. She saw me, but she didn’t know whether or not to believe.

  “I’m here. Really I am. Sarah believes in fairies. It’s okay.”

  “Sarah?” Tess blinked and a line appeared between her eyes.

  “Your great-grandmother. She believes in fairies.”

  “Why are you yelling?”

  That stopped me. I pulled back and considered. Then I spoke in my normal voice, sure that Tess would never hear. “I thought you wouldn’t hear me if I didn’t yell.”

  “I can hear you,” said Tess, looking fearful. “I’m not crazy, am I?”

  I doused my flame. “Not a bit.”

  “So you’re a fairy?”

  “A wood fairy. My name is Matilda.”

  “How come I’m seeing you?”

  I fluttered closer. “Because I wanted you to. I wanted you to see me so very badly.”

  “Why?”

  The room was suddenly bathed in semi-darkness. Tess screeched and I tumbled backwards from the burst of air she emitted.

  “Lights out, Tess,” said Rebecca, silhouetted by the hall light shining into Tess’s room. “Night night.”

  “Mom,” said Tess in a small voice.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you see anything unusual in here?” Tess stared at me hov
ering in front of her face, my wings glowing faintly in the dark with their Whipplethorn luminescence.

  “Like what?” asked her mother.

  “Um… nothing I guess. Night,” said Tess.

  Rebecca shook her head and left.

  “Your wings are beautiful,” said Tess. “They glow a little.”

  “It’s because I’m a Whipplethorn.” I turned so Tess could see my wings from the back, my best angle.

  “What’s a Whipplethorn?”

  “It just means where I’m from. Whipplethorn Manor. Have you heard of it?”

  “No. Are you the only one?”

  “No. There are lots of fairies.”

  Tess relaxed on her pillow. “My dad says fairies aren’t real and neither are trolls or goblins or anything like that.”

  “He’s wrong. I’ve heard about trolls. I’m not sure about goblins, but I’ve seen spriggans and they’re probably worse.”

  “So you’re really real and I can see you.” Tess held out her finger and I landed on it. I walked to the tip of the fingernail and examined the pale pink paint on it.

  “Can you feel my weight?” I asked.

  Tess screwed up her face. “Kind of. It’s like a mosquito landed on me. I might not notice if I wasn’t seeing you there.”

  “Tess!” yelled her mother. “I can hear you talking. Now go to sleep.”

  “Okay,” called Tess.

  “I need your help,” I said. “But I’d better go before I get you in trouble.”

  “Help? What can I do? I’m only eight.” Tess lowered her voice to a whisper.

  “You’d be surprised what you can do. I’m thirteen and I’ve fought spriggans and saved babies.”

  “Wow.”

  “We’re living in your new mantel on the right side. Come see me tomorrow.” I flew forward and touched Tess on the tip of the nose.

  “You live in our mantel?”

  “Yes. On the right side. Don’t forget. Tomorrow.”

  “I won’t forget. There’s no way I could ever forget you.”

  I smiled and flew towards the door. I looked back and Tess waved. Her excitement shone strong and beautiful even in the dim lighting.