The Fairies

Rating: PG
Summary: A girl saw fairies and was shut in an asylum. Not too scary.
Disclaimer: None needed! I own all of this!

I guess I had a crush on her when we were in seventh grade. She was very pretty,
even though she wasn't one of the popular girls. The subtle, light brown hair and bright,
amber eyes didn't strike many people as attractive. I was always too nervous and
insecure to ask her out, but I know she knew I was there, and that was enough for me.
Everyone knew she was different somehow. She did okay in school, and she
dressed like everyone else, but she remained withdrawn from everyone except her best
friend, Mara. Mara, on the other hand, had a large circle of friends and was very popular,
but it seemed she was the only one who understood Anjela. That was the way she spelled
her name, strange as it may seem.
Although the whole school knew Anjela was weird, no one expected what
happened that day in spring, when the our first hour teacher announced, "Miss Anjela
Davis will not be able to go to this school anymore."
"Where did she go?" inquired about half the class.
"She is now being held at an asylum. Everything else in confidential." He looked
around the room at the confused faces. "I'll miss her too," he said.
After school, I managed to find Mara alone. "What happened?"
"Just because I'm her friend, you think I know everything about her?"
"Look, I know that you know about this. She would have said something to you."
Mara looked at him solemnly and finally replied, "She told me that she saw fairies
when she went hiking in the woods one day. I thought she was joking, but she insisted
that they were real. She tried to show them to me, but I didn't see them. She even got
upset over it and began to cry. I got very worried, so I told her parents, who took her to
see a psychiatrist. Now, she's in an asylum. That's all I know."
I stared at her in disbelief. I saw tears well up in her eyes.
"I feel awful, Chad, I really do. I feel like I sent her to that awful place. She
might never come back. I know she'll keep insisting that she saw them, and she always
said she'd stand up for what she believed in. I, myself, don't know what to believe
anymore." With that, she turned and walked away.
"That's what happened, Johnson."
The editor of the newspaper I worked for stared at me as if I was crazy. "Are you
sure that's what happened? That was ten years ago! You're probably exaggerating."
"No sir. I remember every detail of that conversation. Such a thing is too strange
not to remember."
"I suppose you're right, Owens." Johnson was sometimes very easy to convince.
"I'll give you the job of reviving this story, but make sure you get all the facts this time."
"Yes, sir."
Later that day, I stopped by the asylum and went in. After the guard cleared me
to enter, I looked around the common room for those strange amber eyes I once knew so
well. In the end, she recognized me first.
"Chad?" asked a soft voice. "Chad Owens? Is that you?"
I turned around, and there she was. No wonder I didn't know her at first. Her
long hair was all in tangles and her eyes had lost their shine. She was wearing an orange
jumpsuit, as if she were a criminal. I felt the utmost pity for her, but I had come to
acquire a story, not to sympathize with a crazed woman.
"I'm a reporter, now. I'd like to interview you, if you don't mind."
She simply stared at me, like a little animal that seemed so helpless, but she just
said, "Okay. I'd like people to know the truth." It was then that I came to appreciate
how brave she must have been to tell people of what she had seen. She was still brave,
even now, in her harsh surroundings.
I sat down with her, and she told me her story of the fairies. "They weren't small,
like people think. They looked just like us, except their skin glittered, and they dressed
differently. They wore colorful, flowing togas, that fluttered when they danced. It was
the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. They sang, too, in the most melodious of
voices. The thing is," she paused. Her wandering eyes strayed back to me. "They have
to be believed to be seen. Mara didn't believe. None of them did. I shouldn't be here.
There is no reason for it. If I stay here much longer, I really will go crazy. I don't want
to stay here the rest of my life."
I stared right back at her, amber fighting blue, and I knew what she wanted me to
do. "You want me to get you out."
"Yes."
I nervously ran a hand through my black hair. There was so much hope in her
eyes. I saw some of the old spark that was there when she was twelve. "Anjela?" The
brightness sharpened. "I can't guarantee anything." Her eyes fell to her feet. So did her
heart, I think. I took her chin in my hand and raised her head again. Tears were in them.
"I'll try."
She smiled slightly and gave me a hug. I was her only hope. I hoped that I could
live up to her expectations. "Thank you," she whispered in my ear.
I didn't care about the story anymore. I told Johnson that it really wasn't worth
writing after all, and he believed me, as usual.
Two months later, I managed to get her out. Don't ask me how, but it was very
difficult. Since her parents died in a car accident years before, I found an apartment for
her and agreed to pay the rent until she found a steady job. Luckily, she had had a private
teacher come to tutor her, and she technically had graduated from high school. Anjela
eventually found a job at a clothing store, but she wrote in her spare time.
She was working on a novel that she wanted to publish someday, which she let
me read. I was amazed at how good it was. When she was still at our school, she didn't
seem to excel in anything, but none of our English teachers had ever offered her a chance
to show her creativity in writing. She wrote fantasy stories, and they were amazing. Her
appearance improved during this time, and she became the bright-eyed girl I had a crush
on in the seventh grade.
Whenever I visited, she would tell me more about the fairies. They were a
peaceful people, and they had welcomed her when she came. Anjela said they knew the
wisdom of the world.
Hearing these descriptions made me very curious, until I finally decided to ask her
to take me to them. She laughed for the first time in ages and asked, "Do you believe?"
I was a bit taken aback by this question, but I realized that I did believe, or had the
potential to do so. "Yes."
She became serious again. "Then I will. Come back here in the morning."
The next morning I was there, like I promised, and we drove to the same forest
she had been hiking in when she first saw them. We got out of my car and began walking
up a steep hill. After about an hour of silence, I asked, "How much further?"
"It's not far from here."
We traveled on for a few more minutes, when we both began to hear singing. It
was a sweet chorus of a song that sounded familiar, although is seemed we had never
heard it before. The language was odd. It might have been Welsh or Gaelic. As we kept
walking toward the sound, Anjela began singing with it. Taking heart from her example,
I began as well. Our voices mingled and mixed with the harmonies of the song, and it
began to grow louder.
At last, we came upon the fairies. They were dancing around a blue bonfire in
their colored togas. One of them came up to us and addressed both of us, saying, "Chad
Owens and Anjela Davis, we welcome you. Be humans no longer and join us in being
fairies. Do you accept?"
We didn't have to say anything. Our hearts knew what we wanted. Our skin
began to glitter, and our clothes transformed into togas. Mine was green, and Anjela's
was lavender. It felt like a great weight of gloom had been lifted from our souls and we
sang and danced with the other fairies. We were truly happy for the first time in our
lives. We looked back on our human lives as being dull and oppressive.
A year later, Anjela and I got married. Our lives began that day, and we live as
fairies from here to ever after.