Fae and the Night Mare

I can't mess this up.

Fae's wings twitched nervously as she rubbed her tiny hands together. She stood outside of Sandy Shores, hoping against hope that this job would finally be the right fit for her. Because despite having the ability to live pretty much forever, fairies were still on the outdated three-strike rule at work.

And though she'd been at work a little less than two years, Fae was on her last strike.

She'd tried, honestly, she had. But Teeth R' Us hadn't mentioned precisely what she was supposed to leave underneath the children's pillows, so who could blame her for choosing to leave chocolate coins? She hadn't known that they would melt! And that business with Peter Pan simply hadn't been her fault. Though she couldn't say she'd miss the precocious little brat.

But of course, the administration hadn't wanted to hear that. One more mess-up and it was down to the mailroom with Herbert. She shuddered. Herbert always ate egg-salad sandwiches for lunch and wore sandals despite being told rather kindly by HR multiple times that while a troll's podiatry issues would not be a source of discrimination, if he could just be a bit more considerate about the smell, that would be great. They were too afraid to say more because, despite his mailroom salary, a hefty inheritance afforded Herbert a great lawyer. One who'd somehow even managed to get him off scot-free after that harassment business with the three Gruff brothers.

So this job had to work out. Her delicate nostrils and her pockets couldn't bear the alternative.

It had been hard for her to find a job, but thankfully, Sandy Shores accepted just about anyone. The Sandman could always use more helpers and the training was relatively quick. (In fairy time, anyway.) With its cheesy logo- (We won't rest until you do!) and horribly outdated website, it was definitely a last-chance job.

So, she'd applied, been accepted to an apprentice position, and today she'd even shown up thirty minutes early just to avoid giving her new boss, Mr.Sanderson, a reason to find fault with her. But then she'd worried that showing up so early would look weird and had spent the past 20 minutes flying in circles.

Yet for some odd reason, 5 minutes before her start time, though the thought of being late made her heart race and her wings twitch with the urge to dash inside, she couldn't force herself one inch closer to the dilapidated building. And that was a nice way of putting it. The wooden shack looked about two seconds and one good breeze away from falling over. Yet the grim state of the building wasn't the source of her apprehension. Her mother had warned her that dream weaving was a dying business and everything was online these days, but desperation had made Fae deaf to her warnings. Yet now that she was staring her fate in the face, even the thought of spending the rest of her days smelling Herbert's feet couldn't propel her to the door.

If I don't go inside, if I don't take the chance, I technically can't fail.

But a jobless fairy was unheard of. Not because they didn't exist, but because a fairy who wasn't useful was literally erased from existence. Little by little they would fade until one day you just didn't see them anymore. It didn't happen often, almost all fairies were good at something. But when it did, most fairies just disappeared into their (huts) the moment their skin became even slightly translucent and spent their final days mourning the loss of everything they'd ever known all by themselves. The thought of not existing, and the shame and heartbreak it would undoubtedly cause her mother twisted Fae's stomach just enough to make her nervously flutter toward the door where a handwritten sign hung crookedly from a gnarled branch.

Knew HiRes Inter HeeR

The application had said that only half a brain was necessary for this job; she'd thought it was dry humor. Apparently, it wasn't.

Shrugging off the last of her skepticism, Fae lifted her palm and braced it against the water warped wood that still somehow felt sturdy. A piercing squeak echoed through the still air as the doors whooshed open. From what she could see of the inside, it was dimly lit, deathly quiet and the barren room smelled like wood polish and wildflowers so strong they had to be artificial.

She put a leg in and stopped. It might be presumptuous to just come in but there was no bell or anything to ring so Fae cleared her throat. "Mr. Sanderson?" she queried from the doorway. "It's me, Fae. I was supposed to start as your apprentice tod-"

A sharp retort blasted through the entryway and caused Fae to make a most unprofessional sounding squeak. "Come in and close the blasted door already!" It was followed by some shuffling and mumbling that Fae wasn't entirely certain wasn't meant for her ears. "Yelling from the doorway like a nincompoop. If you start work today, come in!"

More shuffling and a light appeared from around a corner followed by a short, squat old man wearing crooked glasses with one lens missing, holding a bumpy looking staff and sporting a scraggly beard that was longer than his brown tunic- which in Fae's opinion, looked about as comfortable as a burlap sack, peered at her from around a stack of ancient-looking ledgers in his left hand.

"So you're my recent fairy screw-up." Fae opened her mouth to protest and he cut her off with a dismissive wave. "Don't know what you did, don't care. You belong to me for the rest of your miserable life, however long or short that happens to be is completely up to you." He began to shuffle down the corridor and Fae quickly closed the door to follow behind him.

"As you know. we deal with the human littles. Dreams, and sleep, all fall on us. It's grunt work, but it's important." He turned into a small room off the side of the long dark corridor and flicked a light switch. Thin glass panels with happy images plastered on the walls each image emitted a soft green glow. Fae looked around in amazement, her eyes sweeping from one happy image to the next. It was ethereal.

"These are the dreams." Sandy's voice softened a bit as he looked around the room with pride. "Each dream slide is assigned to a child and is based on their personality and life events. All you do is gently place the dream slide over their face and it turns into a mist that makes them start dreaming."

His voice hardened with the weight of failure. "And I do mean gently. These shards can never break."

Fae nodded quickly and then realized he couldn't see her. "Yes, Mr. Sanderson, I understand."

He turned back to give her a smirk that looked ghostly in the candlelight. "Hope you don't mind the graveyard shift."

Fae had been out at night before, but this night seemed different. Normally the quiet blanketed her, making her breathe just a little easier. But today, the silence was ominous and stifling. Within the past week, Fae had learned how to transport dreams safely on her company-issued miniature Pegasus, how to place a dream above a child without waking them, and exactly how Mr. Sanderson liked his dandelion coffee. (Two pumps of syrup and a dash of cream, if anyone wanted to know.) The specifics of her training whirled through her mind as Nightlock calmly trotted to the next to last house on her list.

Once they'd pulled up at a quaint little blue house Fae dismounted to give Nightlock a well-deserved drink and a gentle pat on the nose. "I'll be right back, boy."

For what seemed like the hundredth time that night Fae floated through the glass window and hid while the Clinton Thomas's parents tucked him in for the night. As soon as his parents shut the door, Fae safely blew a handful of sand from her pouch throughout the room and smiled as Clinton peacefully drifted off to sleep.

She drifted over, her wings beating silently to keep herself level with Clinton's cherubic little face, ready to administer her second to last dream of the night before she went home and crashed. She felt she could sleep for twenty-four hours straight.

Just as Fae had selected the appropriate dream slide from her satchel and hovered above the boy's face to let it gently float down, the boy sneezed. The force of the wind blew the shard from her hand where it shattered onto the floor beside them.

Then everything slowed down.

Smoke began to spill out of the shattered dream shards and curl up the bedpost toward them. Fae squealed and scrambled into a dark closet but the smoke seemed alive at this point and not at all interested in her.

The pale friendly green turned an ominous shade of neon and the wisps began to curl and knot around themselves. They hovered in the room, seeming to expand by the moment, and then descended on the sleeping child, blanketing his entire body in smoke. He immediately began to twitch uncomfortably and Fae watched in helpless horror as the twitching turned into full-out thrashing. The blankets crumpled around him as he wailed helplessly, trapped under the unrelenting mist that cocooned his body tighter the harder he fought. Finally, with a sharp "NOOO!" that shook the very windows of his bedroom, he bolted upright, scattering the mist.

Tears streamed down his face as Fae heard footsteps pounding toward them. The door flew open and two concerned adults surrounded the little boy who was still gasping and sobbing.

Fae dashed from her corner and out the window as fast as her wings could carry her. She mounted Nightlock so quickly that he bucked suddenly into the air, causing her satchel to plummet toward the ground, the last dream slide shattering and sending evil smoke spiraling into the air where it began to creep towards houses and through windows, preying on sleeping children and adults alike. Soon the air was filled with the sounds of restlessness and cries of fear as twisted dreams wreaked havoc on innocent minds.

Nightlock's hooves thundered across the sky as Fae fled, realizing she would never see her home again.

But sometimes, if you look to the sky at night, you'll see Fae and her Night Mare sweeping across the sky, trying to fix the mistakes she made years ago and give the world a good night's sleep at last.

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