They told me there were fairies in the woods, so I looked in places I thought fairies would hide.
I never found them, but that didn’t stop me from searching. I spent afternoons following bugs and inspecting strange-looking trees. I listened to the howling wind, determined to decipher what it was trying to say.
I searched for hours that stretched into days, and I still didn’t find a trace of fairies. I wondered if it had all been a joke.
This wouldn’t be the first time these boys had lied to me. Joel, Rakeem, Ben, and Matthew. I don’t know if I would call them my friends; they didn’t seem to like me much. I was the strange new girl who had come from the city. I was quiet, and everyone interpreted that as me being stuck up.
The only person who I was certain liked me and wanted to be my friend was Joel.
Joel was tall and funny, with dark brown hair and ice-blue eyes. I guess you could say I had a crush on him, but it wasn’t only his looks that attracted me; he was genuinely nice.
If anybody else had spoken of the fairies, I don’t think I would have believed it. But Joel was the one who told me about them, and I knew Joel would never try to trick me.
“The fairies appear,” Joel had said, shaking his hair from his eyes.
“When you need them the most. They sprinkle you with fairy dust and grant you a wish. But be careful what you wish for. Sometimes it’s better to leave things alone.”
“Yeah, because they’ll feed on your blood.” Joel’s brother Matthew chimed in. He smirked at me, and Joel scowled. “It’s how they live, and if you don’t give it to them, they’ll kill you, anyway.”
The other two boys in the group nodded in agreement.
“They’ll suck out your blood and eat your soul.” Rakeem sneered.
“You’ll owe them forever,” Ben added.
Joel scowled again. “Knock it off, you guys. You’re scaring her.” He turned to me, smiling. “They’re just kidding. Fairies aren’t real, and they definitely don’t want your blood.”
I smiled back. They were scaring me, but I didn’t want to admit that. Not in front of Joel.
Since living in this town, I realized that people here loved their scary stories, and they loved telling them.
I had heard so many stories about witches and talking trees, about the old abandoned farm on the hill. This talk of fairies was a new one, and my stomach fluttered at the thought that they could grant wishes. I could wish for Dad to come back home.
They could, and they would. I just needed to find them.
The boys grew bored with telling their stories and went off to climb trees or wade in the water.
I would have joined them usually, but I had an important task. I needed to find the fairies.
That was all I did that summer.
It was my first summer without Dad.
A day after we moved, Dad left, and when I asked Mom why, she wouldn’t tell me.
I stopped asking because I knew it hurt her, and she was trying so hard to keep herself together for me.
This pushed me to find the fairies. I wanted Dad to come back. I wanted Mom happy, and most of all, I wanted back the life that had been taken from me overnight.
I was determined, but looking back now, I realize it was obsession. It was a manifestation of grief. Deep down, I knew he had left for selfish reasons, but I was ten, and I didn’t know the world’s cruelty just yet. I honestly believed that Dad was lost and couldn’t find his way back to us.
Summer was nearly over by the time I found the fairies.
The night before I did, I heard Mom arguing with someone over the phone. She was crying so hard that her voice distorted, and I stared out my window at the pitch-black sky. I imagined the fairies waiting for me, ready to grant me my wish.
I dreamt of fairies and faraway galaxies that night.
I woke up the next day as the sun was rising. The sky burned like a fever, and cold dew clung to my skin.
I walked through spider webs, and I imagined this was what walking through a ghost would feel like. I pricked my finger on a bush and watched as tiny droplets of blood sprinkled the grass and dirt.
I don’t know what it was about that day that differed from the rest—perhaps it was the strength of my determination or the scent of my blood.
I found the fairies by the river.
The same river I had searched hundreds of times this summer. At first, I didn’t believe what I saw, but when I pinched myself, my eyes blurred with tears, and the fairies were still there.
They were real.
They glided on top of the water and buzzed around weeds and dandelions. They were comprised of all the colors of the rainbow, some colors I had never seen before.
What I remember most clearly, though, is the mirth on their lovely faces. Their smiles were stretched into huge grins, and their big black eyes shimmered.
They paid no attention to me; the young girl crouched behind a rock, too stunned to move.
But as morning bloomed, I knew I had to say something. Pretty soon, the other kids would be here to play, and they would scare away the fairies I had spent so long looking for. I knew if that happened, I would never see them again, and I would lose my chance of bringing Dad back.
So I took a deep breath and left my hiding place. I walked as quietly and calmly to the fairies as possible. They noticed me immediately and stopped their prancing. My heartbeat stuttered as they looked at me.
Up close, they were cute, but terrifying.
They had jagged, sharp teeth that jutted from those broad smiles. Their tiny fingers flexed and revealed long, curling claws.
They didn’t have eyes, just empty eye sockets. Bugs crawled in and out of them in succession, but even though they were sightless, I knew they could see me.
I hesitated. I hadn’t been expecting this. Don’t be afraid, I told myself. Get your wish.
“I need a wish,” I said, trying to keep the quiver out of my voice. “I need a wish from one of you. You grant wishes, and I need one. I paused. “Please?” I added pitifully.
They didn’t say anything. They just stared at me, and then slowly turned to one fairy, who hovered above the water.
This fairy was slightly bigger than the rest. Its wings shimmered pink, gold, and purple, and its teeth were as long as my fingers. Weeds and flowers bloomed from its empty sockets. It was a macabre picture of beauty.
“You want a wish?” It asked in a high, squeaky voice.
“For a wish, what will you give us? What do you offer?”
I was taken aback; I hadn’t expected this. I guess the other boys had been right.
What did I have to offer?
“What do you want?” I asked. “I don’t have any money.”
The fairy was shaking its head and smirking. “What would we do with your human money?” It sneered, and the other fairies laughed. “No, what we want is more valuable than you can imagine.”
“What is it?” I asked, not bothering to conceal the tremble in my voice this time. “What do you want?
The fairy’s smile widened.
“Your blood smells so sweet. Why don’t you share with us?”
They laughed again, and I froze. I thought I had misheard, but then the fairy flew towards me so fast I had no time to react.
It bit my ear with those sharp teeth. The pain was explosive.
I wanted to scream, but I was stunned. I kneeled on the ground, covering my ear, trying to staunch the endless flow of blood. It dripped onto the ground like rain.
“Why did you do that?” I gasped. “What did I do?”
The fairy just stared at me, its mouth red with blood.
“This is payment for what you want us to do. A small taste is what you’ve given us. For your request, we need more, bigger. More.”
I wanted to cry and run away, but I had gotten this far, and I had been searching for so long. I could hear laughter in the distance, the padding of many feet walking my way.
I had little time, and I knew if I left, I would regret it for the rest of my life. Do this for Mom, I thought. Do this if you want to see Dad again.
“What do you want?” I asked again. “What else can I give you?”
They said nothing; they just laughed. That was when I heard the rustling behind me, the ecstatic cries of the boys.
“Oh, shit!” One of them cried. “It’s the fairies! She’s talking to the fairies, you guys! They are real.”
I can only remember bits and pieces of that day. The joyful yells turned into blood-curdling screams. I remember seeing blurs of colors that I now associate with death flying past me and covering the boys.
What I remember most is sitting by the river. Its water was so saturated with blood that it looked black.
There was a head bobbing in the rushing water–a head with dark hair and bloody eye sockets–the rest of the body - Joel’s body was mere inches away from where I was sitting.
That’s where they found me-covered head to toe in blood, rocking back and forth on the river’s bank. I was muttering endlessly about payment and fairies.
I went away for a while. They told me I had had a mental breakdown.
They called it catatonia.
The police had concluded that I had nothing to do with the four boys’ deaths. It was impossible, as they had been torn apart and partially eaten. I couldn’t have done it.
The town didn’t believe in my innocence, however, and neither did I.
It was my fault; after all, it was all my fault.
I had a recurring dream of a river so dark with blood that it looked black. Joel’s head stared at me with those empty eye sockets. Weeds and flower petals sprouted them made of pink, gold, and purple.
As time went on, things got worse. I was shunned and endured dark looks and accusations wherever I went. Mom’s job found an excuse to fire her, and everything seemed hopeless.
And that’s when Dad came back. He appeared as though he had never left, as though he hadn’t broken my and Mom’s hearts.
His excuses for leaving made no sense, and although I was happy, he was back; I constantly wondered if it had been worth it in the end. Had he been worth it?
Mom wasn’t happy at all. She was pissed, and for months she refused to be in the same room as Dad. What was left of their relationship never recovered.
We were all ready for a fresh start and made plans to move back to the city. I didn’t mind in the slightest because everywhere, I was reminded of the debt I had paid in flesh and blood.
The night before we moved, I visited the river one last time. I wanted to say goodbye and tell Joel, Matthew, Ben, and Rakeem that I was sorry. I was so very sorry. In my selfishness, I wanted to believe that apologizing would stop my nightmares. It would prevent me from seeing Joel’s head bobbing in the river, his eye sockets full of blood and blooming flowers.
The fairies were there, as I knew they would be. They danced under the black sky, glittering like stars, and hovered in the air like fat lightning bugs.
They laughed and twirled around one another and stopped when they saw me.
They looked on as the lead fairy fluttered over to me. Its belly was distended and full, and there were eyes jammed into its once-empty eye sockets. They were ice blue.
It smiled at me and gave a little twirl, raising its tiny arms.
Do you like, is what I interpreted it was asking.
No, no, I wouldn’t say I liked it at all, I thought, but didn’t dare say.
I still had to thank them. They had granted me my wish, although I knew it wasn’t worth it.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “Thank you for granting my wish.” I fought the urge to touch my ear and run my fingers over that missing chunk of flesh.
The fairy said nothing.
“Do not seek us again,” it said somberly. “You will not like what we take next.”
I didn’t like what they had taken now. Was it possible for this to get worse?
The air had shifted noticeably, and the fairies were still staring at me. Their dark eyes were hungry, and without another word, I turned and ran home as fast as possible.
By the end of the week, we were back in the city. I didn’t dream about the bloody river and Joel every night, but once in a blue moon, I would, and the magnitude of what I had done slapped me in the face.
My parents are still together, but they aren’t happy.
Mom calls me every day to complain about his drinking and the women he cheats on her with. I wish she would leave him, but I know she won’t. I also wish that I had never brought him back. He was cruel and useless, but as a child, I had been too blind to see that.
Regretfully, I have to tell you I followed in Mom’s footsteps. I, too, married a cruel and useless man, but unlike Mom, I won’t complain about it endlessly. I have a plan.
I do not live far from the town where I endured that bloody summer. No, not far at all.
I will find the fairies; I know that they’re still there. Sure, they warned me I should stay away, and I wouldn’t like what they took next, but I have realized that I don’t care.
My husband has been killing me for years. I died long ago.
I will take him into the woods, and we will dip our toes into the cool water that once had been full of blood.
I will see the fairies once more. I will marvel at how ethereal they look, dancing in the sunlight, twirling in the wind.
They might kill me, too, I know. In fact I’m positive that they will. But that is okay.
I’ve been dreaming about my death for a while now. I fantasize about how it would feel to have my eyes wrenched from my head. The thought alone fills me with longing. I can’t wait to see them again, and I know they are waiting for me.
I wonder if they will take my eyes.