Fee
The men say those who linger for a while will see fairies flitting around, smiles complementing their keen eyes as they tip-toe over the mud but never sink into its depths. They move untouched by the weight of their surroundings, skirting in and around wire, wood, and stone. Any basket-case could give you a detailed description if his mouth could open again, but instead they will stay fleeting glimpses for the lucky. Soon you will see them, too. Most say they are blue and pale like early morning frost, kissing the noses and ears of those who've already left, bestowing their color to console those beyond comfort. You will find, as I did, that staring at a single point allows them to creep into the corners of your eyes, move and they’ll flee. In that moment, their wings calm, their icy lashes and glassy eyes dart from thing to thing, and every so often, a glimmer of their pointed teeth will cause you to try and trap them in your sight. Only then you will find they are not, were never, there.
After two weeks, I am called to leave in the early morning or early evening, they become an imperceptible mixture of grey, blue, brown. In the absence of time, I lose myself to structure; comfort comes in the abandonment of choice. You will find this truth as well, when the rain has been constant for a month and your toes have forgotten the feeling of dryness, you will start to feel hopeful, surely if you can’t see, neither can they. But know that the more you feel safe under that thick haze, the more the fairies tremble with anticipation as the air begins to shake again. Don’t doubt how spirited they will become at the first slip, stumble, trip; as your pulse begins to increase so, too, will theirs, until they meld indistinguishably. Then, when it's dry, they sometimes come to dance, swirling the leaves in circles, enticing others to play. They appear more rust colored, mirroring the dirt and blood under their light feet. Your lieutenant will give in to his desire at this point, sending you over, under, around, allowing you to actualize his honor. And you, just as I did, might find yourself agreeing; sympathetically, the fairies will agree, too. Now, under brash confidence, is when it's easiest for them to pull you because you both know you'll get a little bit farther, almost there — but be cautious, it's never far enough. Instead, just as I did, watch from a distance, selfishly knowing that your family, friend, lover is in good company. The fairies will sing sweetly at dusk, their iridescent wings illuminating the dull sunlight just enough to catch your eye. They won't be alone, not for long.
On the sea, they skim along the surface and play patterns into the lapping waves. The ocean men say they are the most welcoming, calling you to join them in their warm water homes and float lazily into the safety of darkness. In such an enclosed space you will find, as I did, that the unnaturalness of confinement will overwhelm your mind. The closer you get, the louder they will become. How quiet it will be underneath everything where the ancient bones of those who’ve come before you linger, and the gentle murmur of life above lulls you to sleep. It was here in this, with absence of structure, that I lost myself to morality and the cool comfort of black and white. And you will, too. You will wish, just as I did, to relinquish both enemy and friend, for they are all the same, are they not? All pale blue; and if the fairies have graced them, then why not you? Instead, when no one is around, dip in your hand, let them tug at your fingertips and run their fins along your nails. Imagine how, under the surf, they will guide your body effortlessly through the water, allowing you to relish your newfound freedom. In the muted light of day, it will be difficult to tell whether they are really there, but know that if you disappeared under the rolling foam, they would cradle you as you fell.
The men say that in the forest they like to match the trees around them, their amalgam of greens and quick movements let you think for a moment you've seen them until you pause and find that they were never there at all, just lichens and mosses clinging to the trees. You'll see them more and more the deeper you go, until it becomes impossible to distinguish them from the leaves overhead. It was here, in the densest of foliage, that my morality gave way to nothingness, that rigid black and white, muddling until there was only grey. You will find, just as I did, that here, where the air is thick and heavy around you, that there is no need for emotions, orders, thoughts. I found, just as you will, that the more you smile, the more the fairies will make themselves known. At first it will feel strange, unfamiliar, underserved — that old pull at the corners of your mouth — but soon it will become the only expression you can make. Soon you will be searching for them at every flutter and breeze, tight grin waiting, ready to have them guide you away. When the hollow surfaces pool with red, you will look for them more fervently, a frantic scraping against the unfeeling bark, pleading for them to find you. Instead, be still against the fossil trees, let them support your weight as you close your eyes; there's no need to worry whether they will open again because in your calm, the fairies will find you. They will crawl slowly, inching across your face and neck until they have wrapped you entirely in themselves, their bodies, blanket-heavy on yours, will give you the sensation of home — and, really, where else would you go?
You will think of all this before it’s your turn, it will comfort you when you are removed from your body; your mind unstitching itself piece by piece until you no longer worry about the fate of skin and bone. You can see them so clearly now, their myriad colors, dancing, singing, waiting, they sound so nice away from the din of your body. They beg you away from the insistent noise of others, filling every space with sound, so desperate to be reminded of their permanence. The others choke through yellow air, gasping and crying. But you will have already lost your sympathy because you will feel just how close you are, hands almost grazing their silken wings. The fairies’ willowy bodies will glide, unaffected, through the air that will close your throat and kill your words before they have formed behind your unceasing smile. From the safety of your mind, you can watch your body run, watch it fill with holes, watch it sink into the mud, the water, the leaves. When it reaches the bottom, you will find it again, and for a moment, all the fear will return, expanding through your veins and tripling their size. Fierce and fiery, the blood will pulse under your skin until you can’t distinguish part from part, and in that moment, the fairies will find you, catch you, piece you together. They will do their part to color you blue, cover and cloak you until there is no fear or blood or remorse; and it is there that they will leave you.
KATHERINE TUCKER is an English major and writer at Ohio University. Her writing focuses on intricate relationships and the complexities of human behavior and thought. 'Fee' focuses on the failings on the mind as one approaches the inescapable and unbearable weight of war.