Chapter Eight—The Fae

Caitlin sat up, removed a clammy leaf from her elbow, and squealed
in alarm. She was in a wood. Beside her, Simon lay sprawled on the
grass, his wide eyes staring up at the trunks of tall trees far above.
‘We’re in a wood,’ he said, slowly.
‘Hmmm, tall trees, woodland creatures. It appears your friend has
turned into Sherlock Holmes!’
A mosquito buzzed around Caitlin’s nose, but Caitlin could see no
one who might have spoken. She looked around, puzzled.
‘What on Earth was that?’ Simon sat up in a hurry, shaking his
head.
‘I think it was that gnat!’
‘GNAT!’ The creature spoke again and this time its voice was
indignant. Caitlin recognised it as the voice that had addressed her as
‘lovely’, just before she awoke to find herself in this wood.
‘Who, precisely, are you calling a GNAT?’ The creature spoke again.
Another voice, high-pitched and giggly, spoke up, ‘Oh Pip. Now it
just wouldn’t do to make a good first impression, would it? You’ve
already gotten us lost with your over-exuberant whirling and Heaven
knows where Puck has gotten to.’
Both Simon and Caitlin turned to follow the voice as it went on,
‘Please be gentle with our children, Pip. Children, Pip is a trifle
offended not to be recognised.’
Both children’s mouths immediately dropped open in amazement.
Before them stood a very beautiful glittery woman who could only be
described as a fairy. Simon shook his head again. He knew that fairies
didn’t exist. He rubbed his eyes, certain he must be dreaming. The
fairy’s fine blonde hair was so tightly curled that it bounced out from
her head in a shimmering blonde halo. Enormous, slightly slanted
violet eyes nearly filled her tiny, heart-shaped face, and when she
blinked her golden lashes touched her cheek. Her dress was most
peculiar. The bodice seemed to be made of a soft, satiny gossamer and
the material shimmered in the light like new spun silk and fell away to
drape in folds at her feet. It seemed almost to change colour as she
moved, following a spectrum from filmy opalescent white to a rich
russet brown. At her left shoulder, a clasp of amber pinned a gold and
red leaf to the dress. From the clasp fell a further garland of leaves of
various autumnal colours, which appeared to be both falling loosely
and simultaneously entwined in her dress. She spoke again, parting
her small rosebud pink mouth, and gave a quick, almost nervous flap
of her huge silver and gold veined wings.
‘Silly me! You must be wondering who we are and why you are here.
Well, I am Bliss.’ The fairy gave a low curtsey and smiled sweetly.
Where the garland met the ground, the falling leaves and the folds of
her dress fell into a pile of sepia leaves, which rustled and danced
around her feet like small dogs rushing around their master. She put
her finger to her lips, looked down and shushed them and the rustling
stopped. Holding her dainty hand palm up, she spoke again, ‘Pip,
show yourself!’
In an instant, the buzzing of the insect stopped. Standing upright
on Bliss’s palm was a tiny green-clad man. His thin blue and green
wings were patterned like those of a dragonfly and a fringe of glossy
dark hair fell to his high cheekbones, partially obscuring his eyes. The
tiny man raised one slim black eyebrow, gave a low bow, and
whispered, ‘Gnat indeed!’
‘Last but not least. Thistle, my love…’ Bliss snapped her fingers and
another tiny fairy appeared. She was dainty and pale, as soft as
dandelion down.
‘A pleasure,’ whispered Thistle, as she dropped her eyes and lifted
the hem of her feathery purple gown to curtsey.
‘She’s very shy’, whispered Bliss, placing both hands around her
mouth in a secretive fashion, although of course Thistle could hear
anyway. Thistle nodded slowly three times, repeating in her soft
whispery voice, ‘Very very shy.’
‘And later, you shall meet Puck, or Robin Goodfellow as he is known
to some—for he is mostly a good fellow, when he’s not being a tricky
little pooka. He’s probably skipped off for a jaunt at this very moment.’
The fairy laughed merrily but Caitlin thought that her laughter was
laced with worry.
Caitlin was awestruck but determined to be polite. She closed her
gaping mouth and curtsied, stammering, ‘Ca … Caitlin O’Sullivan.
Pleased to meet you.’ She then stood upright and extended her hand.
As she was much bigger than the three fairies, her actions drew a fit
of giggles from the tiny Thistle, and a look of bemusement from Bliss.
Pip, meanwhile, shot up in the air, gave Caitlin a swift kick in the
palm to turn her hand over, and promptly sat himself down, swinging
his legs happily off her hand into mid air. He smiled broadly, flashing
tiny pearly white teeth.
‘Hello Missus,’ he said. ‘We know who you are! And we know who he
is too!’ He pointed a perfect little finger at Simon.
Simon had, until this point, been trying to make sense of what had
happened. The only conclusion he could possibly draw was that this
was a dream, however, if he were dreaming how could he be aware of
dreaming? He attempted to mentally change the colour of Thistle’s
skirt. It didn’t work. Simon was confused, but he knew one thing: this
couldn’t really be happening.
‘And what, precisely, are you?’ Simon mimicked Pip’s earlier
question.
The winged creatures looked at each other before bursting into a
chorus of tinkling giggles, which lasted several minutes before Bliss
shook her golden head, gave a final giggle, and said, ‘Why, you silly,
we’re fairies.’
‘Impossible!’ Simon shot back matter-of-factly. ‘Fairies don’t exist,
which is precisely why I don’t believe in them.’
The fairies’ faces changed from mirth to shock.
Thistle gave a squeal and covered her head with both hands,
flapping her yellow and purple veined wings in alarm. Bliss’s eyes
seemed to engulf her entire face.
‘Ooooh!’ she cried, as if she were experiencing a sharp, sudden
pain. Pip, meanwhile, leapt off Caitlin’s palm in a split second and
flew behind a nearby daffodil, where he hovered, hugging himself and
trembling.
Stilling her wings, which started hammering like a heartbeat at
Simon’s announcement, Bliss approached the impudent boy.
‘Or perhaps, they don’t exist because you don’t believe, dear boy?
And yet, here we are.’ The fairy spoke somewhat sadly and gave a
sweep of her silver wings. Her huge violet eyes looked anxious.
‘Well, I don’t believe! There aren’t any authentic photographs, and
there’s no evidence. It’s all made up just to trick children, just like the
Easter …’
Bliss made a great shushing noise that obscured Simon’s final
sentence.
‘This must be a dream!’ he shouted to Caitlin, above the hum of
Bliss’s rapidly flapping wings,
‘Arghghghghgh,’ Pip shot up in the air again. ‘Make him stop!’ he
yelled in a pained voice. Thistle stood very still, trembling and looking
pale.
‘Simon!’ Bliss spoke sharply now. ‘It is very important that you do
not say you don’t believe again. You are being very impolite, and
manners maketh the mortal.’ She waggled her finger at Simon
accusingly. ‘We have brought you here as our guests. We hope you
can help you fulfil a prophecy, a very important prophecy, that affects
us all. Is this how you repay us?’
‘Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss Bliss,’ said Simon sarcastically, ‘but I
didn’t ask to be invited here and I don’t have to repay anything.’
Simon was starting to enjoy himself. He was more certain than ever
that this must be some kind of bizarre dream, although he had no
idea why he was dreaming about Caitlin O’Sullivan—or fairies!
‘Is he always this unpleasant?’ Pip turned to Caitlin with a look of
incredulity on his face.
‘Mostly,’ Caitlin agreed.
‘Listen…’ Bliss’s tone had become more conciliatory, but Pip (who
had perched himself atop Caitlin’s head) still scowled menacingly at
Simon, ‘…We are here both to help you and because we need your
help. We are in great danger, and so are you. Let us be friends.’
‘What? You mean like invisible friends? Because you can’t be
friends with things that DON’T EXIST!’ Simon repeated emphatically.
‘ENOUGH!’ Bliss snapped. Her eyes grew so large and shone so blue
that they resembled giant sapphires in her small face. ‘You must
never say that you don’t believe again—not in all the time you are
here. Never! Do you understand? Every time a mortal child says they
don’t believe in fairies, somewhere a fairy simply disappears.
Vaporised. Kaput. No more.’
‘Please, you must NOT say that you don’t believe,’ implored Pip.
Simon smiled wickedly and put his fingers in his ears. ‘I don’t
believe in fairies. I don’t believe in fairies. I DON’T BELIEVE IN
FAIRIES!’ he repeated.
With a sudden pop like a bursting balloon, a wisp of purple smoke
appeared in the very spot where Thistle had been cowering.
‘Simon!’ Caitlin was horrified. ‘Thistle…’ she called, ‘Thistle?’
‘Murderer!’ Pip leapt forward and boxed Simon on the nose with his
tiny fist. ‘Wicked boy!’ Pip flew at him again, sending a volley of kicks
at his nostril, but he was so small that it only made Simon laugh.
‘Wicked horrible, impudent little prat. See what you’ve done! I told
you this was a bad idea, Bliss—a very bad idea. Wicked, wicked,
wicked murderous boy!’ Pip screamed shrilly.
‘Simon, what have you done?’ Caitlin was aghast.
The leaves around Bliss’s feet were again quivering and rustling in a
cacophony of whispers. A shining blue tear slid down Bliss’s cheek
and plopped onto the pile as she shushed them.
‘Even with that, he still won’t believe,’ Bliss said quietly, stifling a
sob. ‘Oh my poor quiet little Thistle, bless her heart.’
‘Damn straight I still don’t believe you. Why am I having stupid
dreams about fairies anyway? I don’t have to stay here and listen to
you blaming me for things that can’t even have happened. I … I’ll just
wake up!’ Simon closed his eyes, rubbed them, and then opened them
again. He was still in the woods. He rubbed his eyes harder, but when
he opened them again he could still see Pip half-scowling half-
smirking at him.
‘Right then, I’m leaving.’ Simon turned and began walking towards
a nearby path.
‘But what about me? Where are you going? What about the
prophecy Bliss mentioned? Don’t you want to find out what she
means? Anyway, we haven’t the foggiest idea of where we are,’ Caitlin
interjected, suddenly afraid and anxious to discover exactly what was
going on.
Simon rolled his eyes and smirked. ‘I know where I am. I am in bed,
dreaming. This whole stupid day has been one big stupid dream! And
anyway, STAY OUT OF MY DREAMS!’ Simon yelled at Caitlin, before
he turned and began to walk away. Caitlin made to follow but Bliss
grabbed her arm.
‘Let him go, Caitlin …’ Bliss whispered sadly. ‘We must let him go.’
Simon huffed, ‘Girls!’ over his shoulder as he reached the path and
set out along it without a backward glance.
‘It’s for the best you know. He’d be the end of us fairies, he would,’
whispered Pip, who had fluttered over to perch himself on Caitlin’s
ear.
Bliss wiped her eyes with her tiny hands and her wings slumped in
resignation. ‘Pip,’ she said sorrowfully, ‘Pip, my wee darling, sorry to
be a bother but you must follow him. Do take care not to be seen.
When he has woken up to himself, bring him back.’
‘But Bliss, he … he … did you see that? What about Thistle? That
could be me you know. He …. He …’
‘Oh, Pip,’ cooed Bliss, ‘My dear little Pip. It can’t be helped. You
know the news as well as I do: there must be five, for that is the
prophecy. There’s a good little chap.’ Bliss blew him a silent fairy kiss,
which resembled the multiple colours of an oil swirl in water. It floated
in the air like a bubble. Pip dove off Caitlin’s ear into the air with a
series of acrobatic rolls and somersaults and flew into the kiss’s
bubble-like sheen. He hung inside the bubble for a second, gave
Caitlin a little wave and promptly disappeared.
Caitlin’s eyes grew wide. She hoped Pip hadn’t simply disappeared
as well. Sensing Caitlin’s alarm, Bliss turned to her, ‘Don’t worry your
pretty little red head. He will be back, although I’m afraid we may not
see darling Thistle again.’ Bliss sniffed, her eyes downcast.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Caitlin blubbed. ‘W..w…where…’
‘…Did she go?’ Bliss finished Caitlin’s question, acknowledging that
she didn’t mind being asked.
‘We just don’t know. Heaven?’ Bliss spoke hopefully. ‘Hell?’ Her
voice trembled. ‘We don’t know. But we do know never more to Tir-
nan-Og.’
‘Tir-nan-Og?’ queried Caitlin.
‘Yes. Tir-nan-Og—Fairyland—where we dwell when not on Earth.
Perhaps you shall see it one day. The most beautiful, sparkling place
outside of Heaven: Tir-nan-Og.’
‘I should like that,’ Caitlin’s eyes shone.
‘Well, we shall see.’ Bliss shrugged. ‘Now my dear, come along. You
have much to learn.’