Amethyst's calling

My body hugs the stinging branch beneath me. It was still slightly damp from the tears shed here earlier but the giddy morning sun was beginning to erase the pain. I vaguely remember how it sounded, the screeching high tones so perfectly in sync so that the humans couldn’t hear. My ears were still ringing. I say vaguely because I never joined in on the crying ceremonies. I hated the way the rain fell from the sky as we wept, it burned my skin and left us all feeling miserable for weeks. Instead, I ran far away to the corner of the forest, fast enough so that no one could trace my fairy dust that dragged behind and I hugged my knees and clasped my ears, desperate for it to be over. It pained me that we had to do this. We had to help a specie so fickle minded and weak. One that had no regard for their planet and instead remained greedy and prideful. They burned down trees and ate their cow friends who they’ve trained to become lazy and subservient. Yet, even in all my hatred, I loved being a fairy. My body doesn’t age, instead it just reaches what we call ‘perfect youth’. I reached that stage only fifty years ago, making me one of the youngest in our community. Some fairies believe it’s similar to what the humans call ‘twenty-five’, yet, much more beautiful. Our skin remains supple whereas theirs begins to crinkle and frown. They begin to feel worn down and heavy, but we have the luxury of feeling eternally light thanks to our wings.

Mine were always fluttering, even in my sleep which meant my wings were strong and I could make it up so high in the sky that I could have sworn I could see the entire world. I leap away from the tree to go and see it for the tenth time this week, never bored of the sight before me and I relished in the feel of the wind cooling down the slight burn on my body. The valleys were carved deep and graceful, and the oceans sparkled even through the stubborn mist of the clouds. It was a sight like no other. Some say that I am not normal, that it’s not normal for my wings to always flutter. In fact, some fairies call me an outbred, but I just deny their gossip and walk past them dropping more fairy dust that I had previously intended to. Besides, my mother was a runaway, and we couldn’t communicate with humans otherwise we would die. It wouldn’t make sense for me to be an outbred and secretly I knew they were just jealous of my advantage. I used to like feeling different and being talked about, but now I just find myself alone and bored, sitting on tree branches and trying to start up a conversation with any insect that comes my way. If I was lucky, a barn owl would rest on my tree, and they were usually interesting creatures. They would tell lots of wise stories and their voices were soft and rumbly and had the tendency to put me into a dreamless sleep. My face fell at the thought and my body came plunging down from the height as my wings felt the weight of my sadness. Luckily, I caught myself at the last second and smoothly lodged myself back onto the tree. My mouth remained glued down and I glanced up at the sun and saw that it was nearly breakfast time. The sun was moving from a deep amber to a honey yellow and in about two more shades of honey the trees would sing and urge us to start our day. Who knows, I thought, I might make a friend this time.

In what felt like seconds, the trees began their song beneath me and threw me onto the ground. I looked up to see the usual flurry of wings glide past me. I joined as quietly as I could, forcing my wings to carry me at a normal pace to breakfast, just as I did every morning. I noticed Alaska next to me, talking gleefully at a group of girls about how ‘incredible she feels after the cry last night.’ I bit my lip to hide the scowl forming on my face. How could she enjoy the burn of the rain and the pain of the cries? How could anyone? I didn’t bother saying this out loud as experience had taught me that I would only face the response of- ‘Oh, but it feels so good to release tension that the humans create’ and ‘but how would the planet survive otherwise?’ Alaska was one of the purest fairies in our part of the forest, and this translated into her looks. I wasn’t half as pure as her and as a result, not half as attractive. My thoughts hummed with inappropriate remarks, and I always skipped out on regular fairy duties whereas when she spoke it was as if she was coating every listener in a bath of warm nectar juice, pulling you deeper and deeper with every syllable. As we flew, she effortlessly twirled to display the effects of the cry, and everyone admired her obvious glow. It was luminous under the morning sun and her spin caught the attention of several admirers. I envied her in that moment, but I never could hold my envy for too long, for as her kind eyes smiled at mine my envy shattered like waves on a rock beach. I almost envied her more for that. I nodded at her in a hurried response and was grateful to discover we had arrived at the dining tree. We all urgently arranged ourselves into our usual positions and our eyes remained painfully glued to the floor as we waited for Lady Diddleweed. After what felt like hours, her faint footsteps could be heard as she began approaching the landing. Everyone’s wings stopped fluttering. Everyone’s but mine.

Lady Diddleweed threw her predictable, disapproving glance my way which plainly read ‘so, you decided to show up today’ and proceeded to individually examine every single one of us. There were two hundred fairies in our quarter of the forest, so this process usually took a while. This bored me senseless so to entertain myself, I enjoyed sneaking in glances at her as she began to glide over us, hastily checking for any damage to our wings or other obvious ailments. My breath hitched at the dramatic change in her appearance. Her usual bright complexion was lost beneath a hue of blues and greys and the bones beneath her dress were more prominent than I remember. I hadn’t attended the dining tree in a couple of weeks now. It was partly out of personal preference as I enjoyed the taste of clams and mussels found in the lakes over the usual nectar that we were provided with. It was also to avoid the suspicious looks that I received every time I had skipped out on fairy duties. “Hey, Amethyst!” John Pond had called the last time I came for breakfast, he decided to throw balls of ground maggots my way despite already drawing my attention. I reluctantly turned my head. “I saw you last night skipping out on fairy duties by the west lakes.” His smirk was playful, but his eyes were dark, revealing a world of emptiness. His features sat delicately on top of his gloriously crafted face and long golden tresses and his smirk faltered as he continued. “We all know you only get away with it because you’re a mutt with stupid wings, but how about you try doing your duties for once.” The fairies sat on his leaf snickered and my face prickled a deep red, blurring my thoughts of any retaliation. Instead, I sat there, like an idiot, blushing a deeper red than before. It was true that I did get away with not doing my fairy duties although I also felt encouraged not to participate. Many times, Lady Diddleweed had gathered our quarter of the forest to participate in the nightly human visits without bothering to wake me up. Countless times I woke up feeling confused at the buzzing excitement that filled our sleep-nest the next morning. The sleep-nest was a beautiful, enclosed space crafted in the depths of the largest tree and it hung majestically from a steady branch like a beehive. It was lined with endless beds and cosy reading rooms which after a human visit, would be filled with stories of adventure. My mind snapped back to reality as I felt Lady Diddleweed’s body hover above mine for longer than usual and my fists tightened in anticipation. “Amethyst, I would like to speak to you after breakfast” she cooed, “Find me at the sleep-nest in my private office on the fourth floor. Please knock before entering.”

I barely touched my food that morning. My stomach bubbled with anticipation and my jaw had become an immovable slate door, slightly ajar and impossible to move. The tree shook promptly when the sun greeted its belly with a kiss, as it did every morning, and sent us on our way. The sound of wings snapping into action sounded like the crunch of leaves on an autumn morning, echoing from all directions. We all headed off on our way with a sense of purpose. Some had human duties, and some had the responsibility of fetching flowers, nectar, or ensuring that humans weren’t in our area of land. I headed south and made my way to the sleep-nest, spending far too long trying to find Lady Diddleweed’s office. Partly because I was so nervous, I felt I could throw up and partly because my sense of direction was awful. Luckily, I bumped into Alaska who offered to escort me to her office. “What ever is the matter? You look deathly pale! Mind you, the last time I saw a fairy so pale they had almost encountered a human.” I tried to find the words to respond but they seemed to be lost before I could move my mouth. “Is there anything I can get you?” She gave me a sweet smile and held my hands to her face in a failed attempt to warm them. She was so beautiful that I almost lost my fear in her eyes. They were bright green, reminding me of the dampest forests, the smell of petrichor and the virgin wax of a new-born summer leaf. I wanted to dive into her arms and have her tell me there was nothing to worry about. That Lady Diddleweed didn’t have bad news, that she wasn’t going to punish me for missing out on fairy duties and ask me to leave her camp. I smiled back at her with all the strength I could muster, “No, thank you.” I replied. “Lady Diddleweed asked to see me this morning and... I’m just a little nervous. I just can’t imagine what a fairy like her would want to say to someone so little as me. I- “I took a deep breath to gather my thoughts- “I guess I am just scared about what she has to say. The last time she spoke to me was to tell me my mother had run off.” Alaska’s hands tightened on mine, “You are anything but little. Go in there with your head held high. Lady Diddleweed respects that. Trust me, she was my leader last summer for the nightly human duties and always picked on those who would shy away. It was mean and she can be tough, but she is not unfair. To tell you to leave camp would be out of character for her.” Alaska playfully lifted my chin and pushed my shoulders back and the ridiculousness of my worries forced me to break into a giggle. “Thank you, Alaska.” I took a deep breath, pushed my shoulders back once more and headed for the office door. I turned back after knocking to see Alaska mouth good luck before she hurried off. I wasn’t sure if I had heard Lady Diddleweed call “Come In!” it was so meek that I wondered if it was a trick of my imagination. I opened the door regardless and found her scanning over some important looking documents. “Amethyst. Welcome to my office.”