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rayasoA FAIRY STORY
“. . . and the Giant’s ring fell to earth, where it can still be found today if you know where to look. Sweet dreams,” said the storyteller. Just as Amy fell asleep, he touched her forehead and whispered a spell in her ear, then left her bedroom.
“She never goes to sleep without a fuss,” said Mrs. Abernathy, as she paid him. “How do you do it?” she asked, as they always did.
“Trade secret,” he said, with a wink. “Now she’ll go to sleep whenever you read her a story and she’ll grow up to be a good girl. It’s all in the invoice.”
He disappeared the same way he arrived, with a flash and a puff of smoke.
“Why can’t I just fly away?” he thought when he reappeared outside, coughing and flapping his shimmering wings to get rid of the smoke. “Those fireworks are dangerous. Still, it was in the job order.”
Killian was one of the last fairy storytellers. He was about three feet tall with red hair and green eyes; he wore earthen brown pants, a green tunic of leaves, and a sky blue bycoket hat[1] with a sunny yellow feather on it.
Killian’s services were not cheap, but it was worth it to desperate, frazzled parents who just needed a good night’s sleep. He would tell a story to the fussy child, who would sleep through the night and give the grateful parents some relief.
He offered many options, including a fairy blessing, which these parents had chosen. It was a very expensive add-on, but it was worth it. Who wouldn’t want a good child from the touch of his finger?
Killian flew home to his little cottage deep in the forest and far away from any human settlement. It was a traditional white, timber-framed cottage with a steep roof and stone chimney. It had once belonged to a witch who liked children too much, so it could easily be decorated with candy and frosting, but that had been long ago. Now, it just looked homey.
Once inside, Killian could relax. He entered his ID number on the keypad hidden by the bookcase and submitted to the retinal scan, which always made his eyes hurt.
“Why can’t they just use fingerprints?” he thought, before remembering he didn’t have any.
The elevator doors opened, which took him down to the first level of a huge underground complex. Killian walked straight to Costumes. He changed into his own clothes, a Led Zeppelin t-shirt and fairy-sized jeans, then turned in his uniform (“it still itches!”) to Kzll, a bridge troll who still didn’t care.
“You’re wanted in Assignments,” growled Kzll.
“So soon?” said Killian. “I’m overdue for a break.”
“Still don’t care,” barked Kzll, who had been stuck in Costumes ever since he had broken the power generator after smashing it with a sledge hammer someone had left behind.
“Use me,” the hammer had said, and Kzll couldn’t resist.
Killian felt sorry for Kzll. There was no demand for bridge trolls anymore and he was lucky he had not been placed under a sleeping spell. Administration kept him awake just in case. Battle trolls had been luckier and had even been featured in a few movies, but since no more were planned, they would be put under the spell soon. It cost a lot to keep them fed and quiet.
“There’s always work for fairies,” thought Killian, especially ones with his particular skills.
Not every fairy could tell a bedtime story. One time, Killian had been accidentally overbooked, so Aerie had been sent in his place. The poor child had had nightmares for months after Aerie had read “The Girl Without Hands.” Administration had been forced to refund the fee and Aerie had been placed in the dreaded birthday party pool.
Assignments had its offices on the third floor, which also housed Sleeping Characters. Bed after bed lined the cavernous floor, each one holding a character that no one needed anymore. They had been placed under the same spell used for Sleeping Beauty, but there would never be a true love to break it with a kiss.
Assignments was divided into two rooms: Disney and Everything Else. Every character hoped to work on Disney jobs, but these had become scarce after Disney had started creating its own stories with new characters. Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, and the others would always have work, but it was just reruns, doing the same thing day after day after soul-crushing day. To Killian, that was Hades.
Everything Else was usually staffed by witches and he liked to stay on their good sides, which wasn’t easy. They liked a child now and then to torment, but Administration frowned on this, so Killian tried to smuggle them some chocolate pudding from the Cafeteria, which they liked almost as much.
“Good work today,” said Baba Yaga. “What? No pudding?”
“Not available,” he said.
Baba Yaga zotted him with a small lightning shock.
“Don’t lie to Baba,” she said, with a smile.
Killian liked Baba, despite the occasional discharge.
“They need you next door,” she said.
“Next door” was Disney. Unlike most, Killian didn’t like to work there. Sure, it could lead to permanent work, but he didn’t like their rules (“You’re off script!” “Where’s your Disney smile?”) or the hordes of people wanting to touch his wings.
The Three Princesses of Whiteland were working the Disney office today. They were bitter because no one knew them.
“We’re real Princesses from a real story,” they would say, always speaking together, “not like those phonies. Why can’t we have a movie?”
“You have an emergency assignment in Disneyland,” they told Killian.
“What is it?” he asked.
“They’ll tell you when you get there. Better hurry.”
Even with a boost from some fairy magic, it still took Killian a long time to fly that far.
“You’re late,” said Emily, the Disney personnel officer, who had lost her Disney smile. “We have an emergency. Both Tinkerbell and her substitute are sick. We need a flying fairy and you’re the only one available.”
“But . . .” said Killian.
“No buts,” said Emily. “Here’s your costume and wig – make them fit. And remember to shave.”
Killian headed to the locker room. With a lot of paper towels here and a tightly cinched belt there, he forced himself into the costume. The wig fit, but the shoes did not. This was going to be a painful job, but at least the crowd wouldn’t see him up close.
He headed to Make-Up.
“You were supposed to shave,” said Hank, the chief technician.
“I did,” said Killian.
“Arms and legs too,” said Hank.
Killian groaned, borrowed a razor and got the job done. He wondered how long it would take to grow back.
“Be thankful we didn’t make you wax,” said Hank, smiling.
When everything was done, Killian looked at himself in the mirror.
“Not bad,” he thought. “I didn’t realize I had such a nice . . . .’
“No time for that,” said Hank. “They need you at the castle.”
Killian was escorted to the top of the castle to meet Peter Pan, who gave him his flight plan.
“You’re the real Peter Pan!” said Killian. “I’m such a fan . . . .”
“You’re not the real Tinkerbell,” interrupted Peter Pan, “so here’s what you do. Screw up, and it’s the sleeping spell.”
It was actually very simple. Killian flew higher than usual so no one noticed the difference. He did a few loops, waved Tinkerbell’s wand, fireworks exploded, and the crowd roared.
Killian was only needed for a few days until Tinkerbell recovered. He found that he enjoyed it, but enough was enough.
He got to meet the real Tinkerbell before he left, who gave him an Authentic Tinkerbell Wand from a gift shop.
After he got back, Killian immediately reported to Everything Else for his next assignment.
“Welcome back,” said Baba Yaga. “Here’s your schedule.”
Killian gave her his Tinkerbell Wand. She almost smiled and her parting lightning zot was a small one.
“Where’s my pudding?” she called after him. “Weren’t there any extra children at Disneyland you could’ve brought me?”
“Maybe next time,” said Killian, who noticed that his schedule now included on-call work as Tinkerbell’s #2 replacement. He groaned.
At Costumes, Kzll gave him his storyteller clothes.
“I cleaned them with sand,“ growled Kzll, “for that extra itch all you Disney superstars like.”
“Good to be back,” said Killian, as he placed a sledge hammer from Tools on the counter.
“Use me,” it said.
“Disney wants a troll for their bridges,” said Killian. “I told them you were the only active one. You should report to Assignments.”
Kzll made the sledge hammer useful on his way out.
Killian liked his new schedule. It was nothing but storytelling for the whole week.
He was last seen in the Library looking for some new material, whistling while he worked.
* * * * *
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[1] The kind of hat worn by Robin Hood, a few elves, and other sharp-dressing fantastical characters.
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Date: 2020-07-20 01:50 pm (UTC)It's a little sad, too, that so many of these characters are just left to sleep with no one to wake them. And the poor witches that don't even get candy houses to live in or children to torment!
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Date: 2020-07-21 08:04 pm (UTC)Also, the proper noun "Everything Else" was a delightful touch.
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Date: 2020-07-23 08:34 pm (UTC)This was a super cute story. It's good to know where our storybook characters come from and where they go. Though I do feel bad for the sleeping ones :(
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Date: 2020-07-23 11:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-07-23 10:15 pm (UTC)The bridge troll, the horrifying idea of "The Girl Without Hands" as a bedtime story, Baba Yaga's cameos, The Three Princesses of Whiteland (I had no idea that was a real story), cleaning costumes with sand (that explains the itch)...
“Where’s your Disney smile?”
Hahahaha! It sounds like a lot of pressure, doesn't it? Plus, people wanting to touch his wings all the time... yick!
I liked the detail about forgetting to shave absolutely ALL the exposed areas, and the shoes that (of course) didn't fit. And the reappearance of the dangerously beguiling sledgehammer. Though I'm not sure Kzll deserved that job! ;)
And of course, the snarky footnote. :D
ETA: Hold on. "The Girl Without Hands" is an actual Brothers Grimm story? Yikes!!
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Date: 2020-07-23 11:24 pm (UTC)