A Touch of Faerie

By Jack Bessie

Beware the faeries, whose touch can change you!

Megan O'Hare was a normal Irish girl, except for being cursed with having faerie hair and eyes. Teased and abused from childhood for this, she still longed to meet a faerie, or even to see the Land of Faerie. Her mother, inclined like most villagers to distrust any possible contact with the magic beings, none the less admitted to having seen one herself, which makes Megan even more determined to succeed in finding them.

Advised how to find Faerie by the wife of a traveling tinker, she sets out at age fifteen to find the way, and much to her shock, not only succeeds, but ends up a prisoner of the Faerie Queen.

Forced to stay months in Faerie, Megan learns the ways and secrets of the faeries, before being marked by them and sent home. She finds her welcome home even less auspicious than her childhood, her new abilities terrifying in spite of their usefulness.

Giving her firstborn child to the faeries, rather than letting him die, is only another offense against all the villagers consider proper. Will she ever have peace? Will she manage to come to terms with the church's teaching, without surrendering her understanding of Faerie? And what did the Faerie Queen mean by "We will claim you, in the end"?

A deep and novel exploration of love, faith and faeries.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jack Bessie
• Release date: Nov 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781940592114

Jack Bessie

Jack Bessie is a child of the corn belt, who grew up shy and rather isolated, chasing critters and working on the neighbor’s farm. An avid reader from an early age, he was obsessed with learning, especially science. He hated English, which is a superb irony, considering how many millions of words of prose he has written in his later life; it would appear that God does indeed have a fine sense of humor or at least a fondness for satire and irony!Jack’s college experience was fanatical and obsessive, involving ridiculously intense bouts of reading and self motivated study, interspersed with much drinking and the chasing of women. He devoted a large portion of his study to psychology and communications, dropping out without a degree, but with an astoundingly wide and deep education. He also accumulated a pregnant wife along the way. The chasing of women was productive at least!Jack’s work history is as interesting as his college journey. He’s been a hospital orderly, janitor, research assis-tant, draftsman, cook, plumber, electrician, home builder, and master cabinet maker, the trade his father plied. One of the high points of his work life involved being fired from two different but equally lousy jobs in the same day!Jack and his second wife raised five biological chil-dren, and then were crazy enough to adopt six more. He’s never been noted for moderation. They are now content to herd their cats, Beatnik, Funky Kitty, and Lucifer.Honestly, Jack hasn’t gotten any less excessive, as you might notice from reading his writing. His life has given him an endless panoply of things to make fun of and to think deeply about, which he endeavors to share with his readers and fans. The author of ten novels, and a million words of humor and insight, Jack is always writing, and has no plans to ever retire.Jack also designs games, and teaches novel writing, and is once again serving as a judge for the Global eBook awards! There’s no dust on him from sitting around!

Book preview

Jack Bessie is the creator of the website, Jack Bessie’s Duct Tape for the Soul https://www.jackofwords.com It is filled with all sorts of insightful, funny, crazy and profoundly motivating stuff!

In addition, Jack has a Tumblr Blog: Words of Bessie http://jackofwords.tumblr.com/

He’s also on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jackofwords

And on Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/jackbessie/

And he posts short stories free on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/search/jack%20Bessie

Besides his daily blog posting page that features Bessie-isms and Quoteables, you’ll discover a bunch of other pages filled with crazy and amusing features. And of course, there’s a whole section devoted to all his other books, with links to see samples and to buy them. (Authors are wicked opportunists!)

You’ll also find a Free Book Page where you can get two different free digital copies of his books each month: https://www.jackofwords.com/free-books/

All of his contact info & e-mail addresses etc. are there too He even gives you material in the Archives, for all you over busy or tardy ones. Jack and his staff are a pretty zany bunch, and you should find something that makes you laugh, giggle, cry or want to hang him. Check it out! It’s free, and worthy of being under your favorites!

Come for a nice tour, and a chance to get to know him!

A Thought

Myth and legend are a wonderful, fertile place for the imagination. Civilization has evolved, and many old stories, tales, superstitions and beliefs have ended up party preserved in some form. Most people find them charming or at least entertaining, but not worthy of much belief.

Likewise with religion; if you have one, you tend to believe at least some of it. Otherwise, why bother? The religion you don’t embrace as your own seems likely suspect, and maybe a good bit crazy. That others find your faith suspect annoys you perhaps, but unless they want to burn you at the stake as an infidel, it’s not much of a problem.

What becomes interesting is when people have superstitions, or old religious beliefs, that were passed to them as children, and which conflict with the newer, and more widespread religious views that are currently in vogue at the moment. Many regions have experienced this, especially ones where paganism flourished before the coming of Christianity.

You might think people, especially somewhat advanced or educated ones, would toss out their old beliefs in favor of their new religion. You’d be quite wrong. Nowhere is this more striking than in the Gaelic lands of Ireland, where Christian belief still has to put up with belief in everything from banshees and Leprechauns to Faeries.

This is a story about Faeries, and those descendants of the Celts who were willing to embrace the church’s view of God, but had no intention of surrendering their understanding and fear of Faeries. Especially the fear of them.

Enjoy,

Jack.

1

The Faerie Queen had been standing at her window, looking out over her garden, basking in her serene satisfaction, her sense of self and accomplishment much like a dead thing, swollen tight and in danger of bursting. The footfalls of several intruders disturbed her contemplation, causing her brows to furrow, and her complexion to take on a more icy tone.

Turning, precisely pivoting on her shoe’s toe, she directed her now malevolent gaze onto those arriving; two Faerie guards, and between them, her hands bound behind her back, was a pale and terrified looking human girl named Megan O’Hare.

The Queen moved a step closer, a soundless glide of her foot. She seemed to move without motion, as she repeated this careful stepping, and was quickly in front of the frightened young woman. Megan tried to avert her gaze, her parent’s caution never to directly gaze at a Faerie informing her. This displeased the Queen even more, and she reached out, firmly grasping Megan’s chin, jerking her head up. Megan felt the Faerie’s hard fingers, her perfect nails sharply impressed in the skin of her neck and chin.

That feels real and substantial, not indistinct like I’d imagine a magic being to feel! she thought nervously. The possibility that her ideas regarding faeries might be quite wrong came rushing to her mind, adding to her already substantial fear. Her entry into the Faeries’ realm had been scary enough, followed by her less than welcoming capture. That she now confronted what she had come for, a meeting with the Faerie Queen, seemed to hold much less promise of a happy encounter than her dreams had suggested.

A rude child who would dare to violate my peace had best look me in the eye when in my presence! You will obey my least command! she hissed. Megan, nearly inclined to swoon, or to wet herself, managed to nod hastily, the idea of disobeying seeming too horrid to even consider. Satisfied, the Queen released her chin, and turned to approach her throne, climbing the steps silently, where she daintily perched herself. Pointing at Megan, she spoke again.

Approach the throne, and kneel! she commanded, and Megan silently obeyed, climbing the steps hurriedly. She found kneeling with her hands behind her back to be quite awkward, but had no intention of complaining. She picked a place, which seemed close enough to be respectful, but not so close as to temp the Queen into slapping her, should she be angry. The guards had followed, and stood at the top of the dais’s steps.

On her knees, on the polished floor, she looked up at the Faerie Queen, a helpless feeling of dread gripping her anew. The understanding that she had no idea how to properly address her captor, weighed heavily; she feared offending the Queen, and being made to suffer for her failure. Everyone she knew had whispered that this was possible, that the Faerie Queen was impossibly difficult and quick to anger, even more than a normal faerie might be.

Megan waited, the silence cutting her confidence, which had carried her to this moment, to shreds. The Faerie Queen was beautiful to behold, so stunningly perfect, yet she seemed almost cut from ice. Her haughty gaze made Megan shiver, the understanding that this creature had human features, but was utterly inhuman, finally touching the young woman, and tearing apart any sense of reasonableness, the way a strong wind would disperse a trail of smoke rising from a fire.

I was a fool to come here! she suddenly thought, her hopes seeming like the merest of dreams. The Queen watched in complete silence, her eyes burning into Megan’s, as if she were drinking in the young girl’s fear and terror.

You were indeed a fool—but all humans are, the Queen suddenly observed, terrifying Megan with a new worry.

Can she know my very thoughts?

It takes little to know the dull and empty mind of men, or of a foolish young woman! the Queen observed, confirming Megan’s worst fear.

I—I’m sorry! Megan sobbed. If you know my thoughts—then you know why I—came here. I meant no disrespect, no harm! she cried, her tears springing forth. The Queen gestured to the guards.

Loose her hands, she instructed one of them, and leave us! she cried, waving them away with a curt swipe of her hand. Megan’s eye was captivated by a flash of light on the Queen’s right hand; a large and brilliant stone set in a ring captured the light, and caused it to almost explode into magnificence. Shifting her eyes back to Megan, the Queen gestured harshly. Wipe your face! she instructed, her voice so intense it sounded like a sneer. There developed a new silence, as the Queen resumed her observation, and Megan tried to calm her mind and heart as she wiped her tears. Her thoughts seemed impossible to collect, darting hither and yon, like a flock of sheep just startled by a pack of wolves.

Ho—how might I address you, in a manner that you would approve? Megan asked, eager for something to be said. She found the silence nerve wracking, and inclined to make her more terrified and less confident. Much less confidant, she though awkwardly, ashamed of her fear, but unable to push it away.

You wish to establish that you have manners? That you aren’t like a wild beast in the field, even though your kind is mostly that? the Queen asked, her voice condescending and sharp. Humans don’t even have the decency to properly believe in us! They are content to whisper lies and exaggerations, to teach their children to avoid us, but never to respect or understand what we are! They blame us for evils we have nothing to do with, and yet won’t acknowledge our powers over what we do control. You yourself have much of this foolishness, yet are less wisely fearful than you should be! the Queen declared, as if she dared the girl to attempt to refute her accusation.

They believe in you enough to be terrified of you! Megan exclaimed. At least I do at the moment! she added, a fleeting smile gracing her lips before fleeing. But likely not as much as I should— she added, her voice a failing whisper. The Faerie Queen clapped at this, laughing delightedly.

Finally! A word of wisdom! You have no idea, my foolish child, how much you should fear me! You might perhaps expect me to enchant you? Or maybe I’ll curse you, and cause you to die a wicked death? What if I made you barren, or caused you to birth a faerie child? How might that do you? Is that what you think? she demanded, eyeing Megan, who looked quite pale and nervous. Seeing Megan’s appearance, which reflected her fears, she continued. You would find those fates much more pleasing than what I could truly do to you! You were taught to fear us, were you not? But you obviously didn’t listen to the wise words spoken to you! Did anyone suggest that coming here was wise, was a reasonable idea? Yet in spite of that, you entered our domain, came seeking me? Are you a fool, or simply mad? The Queen asked, her tone making plain that she accepted no other possibilities. You shall call me Madam Queen, she added, seeing Megan hesitate for lack of what to address her by.

Madam Queen—I don’t think I’m inclined to be mad—I seem possessed of all my faculties, although perhaps my being here gives lie to that as well! Perhaps I’m a fool, as you say. I didn’t really believe what the others said, having come to understand that parents tell their children all sorts of nonsense in an attempt to help them be safe. Besides, people even fear thunder, and I’ve yet to meet someone afflicted by it! I assumed that their tales of the Faerie folk were much the same. Honestly, I’ve never seen anyone cursed or who died from whatever your people might have done! I came here hoping to speak with you, for I understand that you have much knowledge, and comprehend things unknowable to humans. I was desirous of learning something that no man could tell me, she sighed.

And you imagine that I exist to answer the silly questions of young girls? That I spend my days in idleness, hoping someone like you might drop by for a chat? I’d suggest that you are indeed a fool! the Queen replied, laughing, her voice carrying a sharp and harsh edge.

What duties are attendant on you to perform, that might occupy your time? Megan wondered aloud, her natural curiosity overwhelming her judgment. The Queen sat, staring at her, dumbfounded at her boldness.

You think to question what I do? she replied, her voice a wave of sinister consideration.

Oh, no, Madam Queen! Not as in challenging you, and certainly not in any manner to criticize! I simply am fascinated by what sorts of things might occupy your day! There are many tales of faeries among the humans, but we likely have a poor grasp of what you are really like! The stories all suggest that you are—quite adept at magic. I find that amazingly fascinating! But is that true? Perhaps people would fear you less if they understood what you are really like! Megan replied, her face suddenly coming alive with her innocent enthusiasm.

And what makes you think we want to be feared less? the Queen demanded, gazing down on Megan smugly. We would have no peace from humans if they had less fear! This astounded Megan, who found the idea preposterous. Why might anyone want to be feared? Did this really work to protect the faeries from human intrusion? She herself seemed less inclined to fear them than most of her people, and thus had come unbidden. Perhaps she was about to learn how truly foolish she was. Would others be as bold and unwary as she, if they lacked the fear that gripped her fellow villagers? She hung her head, embarrassed by this, and by her lack of understanding, and shrugged her shoulders.

I—I don’t know, she whispered.

Because you are an ignorant fool, or simply too young to know better? the queen wondered thoughtfully. Do you even know—can you enumerate the powers we possess? Megan shook her head, hesitant and terrified to name something, and be wrong.

Magic? she tentatively whispered, watching the Queen for any sign that she was correct. The Queen’s face was a still, unreadable mask, as she stared at Megan. Afraid to venture a second guess, she strove to make an honest comment. Perhaps you would instruct me? I would be an eager and devoted student, should you be so inclined, eager to be less ignorant than I now am! Megan suggested, this idea strangely attractive and seeming much less scary. The Faerie Queen seemed less enthused.

You are so lacking in insight and understanding! I can take your very soul, merely by looking into your eyes! the Faerie queen informed her.

Really? That’s—quite— Megan suddenly fell silent, as the implications of this touched her; that she had been told this many times in her village, and not believed it, seemed especially awkward. She found looking at the Faerie Queen suddenly much harder. The Queen gestured for Megan to approach.

Do you consider yourself brave? the Faerie Queen suddenly demanded, sporting a wicked grin, as Megan stood.

I—I’m not sure. Why?

Let us see! Come here! she instructed, pointing to a spot at her feet. Megan dutifully stepped close, and knelt as indicated. She was fleetingly aware of the contrast between herself, her simple and worn dress, and the Faerie Queen’s sparkling and elegant attire; her garments seemed to shimmer and glow, as if sunlight had been made into cloth.

Now what?

Stare into my eyes, knowing that I can take your very soul, if it pleases me! the Queen demanded. She watched intently, as a terrible panic blossomed and spread across Megan’s pale face, the possible outcomes and terrible fate that might be hers demanding her mind’s attention.

What might she do to me? How can I refuse her—I’d be unable to resist her magic! she thought, terrified both by this possible fate, and by the understanding that the Faerie Queen knew her thoughts. She considered turning and attempting to flee, had to overcome her body’s attempt to buckle, but at last, she composed herself and nodded. Leaning close to obey, she sighed, the feeling of being a lamb going to slaughter touching her.

Very well. If you wish to harm me, I will be powerless to stop you. But you would be wicked and evil to do so, since I have done nothing to try and harm you! Megan insisted, her attempt to smile showing as a weak grimace. She steadied herself, gathering her resolve as if it were a cloak that might shield her from harm, and gazed into the Queen’s eyes.

She vaguely felt the Queen’s narrow fingers brush her hair back from her cheek. Megan noted that the Faerie Queen’s eyes seemed to be jet black, and so shiny that they reflected Megan’s own image as well as that of the room behind her. The pull of them seemed suddenly astounding, and Megan felt unable to blink or turn away. I can be lost or die in these beautiful eyes! she thought dreamily, helpless against her feelings. Before she slipped into unawareness, the Queen’s voice softly intruded, sounding distant but sharp.

You have no idea how wicked or evil I might truly be! Megan heard, before everything began to spin. She wanted to scream, but merely moaned, before surrendering to a smothering blackness.

2

Megan O’Hare had been excited about her seventh birthday. Many of her large and extended family had come to visit, and eat a hearty meal. Her mother and Aunt Leah had made her cookies as a treat, to eat after church. Her birthday was not on Sunday, but had actually been the previous Friday. That she had been made to wait to celebrate had seemed a large burden on the small girl, but one she had no choice but to endure; life’s rhythms didn’t change for a mere birthday.

They had gone to Church early, and had come home to prepare the meal, as others slowly trickled in. The ones from the farthest farms had arrived before the ones in the village, a point not lost on anyone.

Some might be inclined to stay up too late, here in the village, drinkin’ is what I’m thinking! Megan’s mother, Alannah, had observed, a wicked grin gracing her sweaty face.

When the food was ready, the people ate outside on some makeshift tables, taking advantage of the early summer’s fine sunny day. The O’Hare cottage was near the edge of town, where they had room for a large garden, and a pen for goats.

Megan had enjoyed the meal, eager to sit with her cousins. She especially liked Roisin, who was eight, and Orla who had just turned ten barely a month passed. When they were done with the meal, the children were excused to go play, as none of the adults wanted to eat the sweets just yet. This only slightly disappointed the young ones, but they all acted put upon and sighed mournfully anyway from habit.

Megan and her girl cousins went off to explore the village, to see what might be of interest. The ones who lived out on farms begged for this, as they seldom came here. Megan was less enthused, afraid she would be teased or tormented by some of the village children, as usual, but she was hesitant to share this knowledge with the others.

They had gone to the far end of the simple dirt road, to the last house, and had begun to mosey back the other way, when a gaggle of boys suddenly appeared from between two dwellings, clearly intent on mischief.

Who might you girls be, out with the little faerie girl? a twelve year old named Danny demanded of Megan’s cousin’s. Megan cringed at this taunt, having been subjected to it many times before. Rather than answer, the girls, with a collective glance at each other, suddenly bolted and ran for Megan’s house, as the boys gave a halfhearted chase, yelling more wicked comments and questions at their backs.

Cowards! Danny at last yelled, before stopping. He was grinning wickedly, and laughing, as he turned with his fellows to go find something else to do.

The girls were breathing hard when they reached Megan’s home, and this caught the eye of their parents.

What might the problem be with you all? Megan’s father demanded.

Danny! Megan managed to gasp, before bursting into tears.

Roisin, wishing to be helpful, added, He called us names—called Megan a—faerie girl! she declared, knowing that this would be considered an insult by the adults.

There was silence, as Megan’s mother embraced her daughter. The adults looked at each other, wordlessly considering the evil truth of Danny’s words; Megan’s bright blue eyes, and unusual pale blond hair, were universally regarded as being faerie like, a thing no one wished to have pointed out.

The girls moped around for a time, before walking off through the meadows, unwilling to go back to the village and maybe be afflicted by boys again. This occupied them handily for an hour, as they discovered flowers and several interesting stones, which they intended to carry home. Her cousin Orla had been silently considering Danny’s earlier comments about Faeries, and finally spoke up.

What are faeries like? she wondered aloud.

Mean and evil! Roisin quickly declared. "Our mom said so! she added, seeing Megan’s frown.

Well I don’t think so! Megan declared angrily. They’re very pretty, and I’ve never seen one do anything they shouldn’t! she insisted.

You’ve seen a faerie? For real? Orla gasped, shocked by this.

No—but my mom has—I think, Megan declared, her voice trailing off.

Maybe that’s why you look like one! Orla, suggested loudly.

Look like what? Megan asked, puzzled.

A faerie! Everyone knows they have bright blue eyes, and hair like yours! Orla declared, as if this was irrefutable.

You’re mean! Megan yelled, starting to cry, and with this, she turned to run towards the house. Roisin shook her head, glancing at her sister.

We’ll get our bottoms whipped, thanks to you! she complained. They took out after their cousin, eager to catch her. This swiftly proved futile, as Megan was much faster, and navigated the gates easier than her cousins did. They arrived to see Megan in tears, sitting on her mother’s lap, telling her tale to a large audience of listeners, which included both Orla and Roisin’s parents, whose gaze seemed to promise a swift retribution on their bare behinds.

Roisin pushed her reluctant sister ahead of her, whispering, You’d better apologize right now! she hissed in Orla’s ear. In spite of this urging, Orla was timid, and reluctant to interrupt the adults, standing nervously as several people spoke to comfort Megan. When she noted a slight pause, Orla slipped close to Megan, and stood, hands behind her back.

Megan? I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings! she declared as boisterous as she could, trying to look innocent and concerned. Megan turned away, and hid her face against her mother’s neck. Orla, focused on Megan, failed to note her father stepping close behind her, until he took hold of her arm, and gave her butt a hearty swat.

You know better than to be a teasin’ someone about such a thing! he declared in no uncertain terms. This prompted Orla to cry too, more from her guilty feelings than from the single swat on her rear. Hearing Orla’s dramatic wail, Megan managed to sit up, and hopped down, to hug her cousin, whom she was most especially fond of.

It’s okay! I still love you! Megan had declared, much to everyone’s delight. Roisin, hoping to avoid a similar fate, came close to apologize too, and to share a hug with Megan. She was shocked to have her own butt smacked a good lick, turning, mouth open, to confront her father.

What was that for? she demanded, outraged to be so handily punished.

You know! You two never do anything wicked without the other being guilty too! her father declared. Roisin’s face quickly displayed a strong blush, her own inner guilt handily marking her.

No father, I’m sorry! she sighed, not bothering to cry fake tears.

Seeing that this crisis was mostly resolved, they decided to eat the treats.

While the children were all occupied, Megan’s aunt Leah and mother talked quietly.

How bad do the people treat her—because of her looks? she wondered.

Oh dear God! They can be so wicked! Especially the children. Most folks let them run on at the mouth, saying what they don’t have the nerve to say themselves! Alannah sighed. And then the hypocrites go sit in church, and pat themselves on the back, feeling holy and so pious! Leah chuckled at this.

Not the only thing they do so about, is it? I swear, I firmly believe there’ll be much room in Heaven. The crowd will be with the devil, she sighed. I mean, it’s not like anyone set out to have her look like a faerie, now is it? Megan’s mother suddenly looked guilty and uncomfortable, looking down. Alannah? Is something bothering your conscience?

Alannah shrugged, before looking up, and wiping her eyes. I don’t know! It’s just—when I was—ten or maybe—eleven, I went for a long walk in the woods—on the first day of spring—

You didn’t? Leah gasped, shocked at this confession. That’s one of the days the—faeries come out, and can be seen! she whispered, her voice almost a hiss. Did you see one? she asked, and held her breath. Alannah sat like a statue, before finally nodding slightly.

Just a—a—glimpse! I think it was a girl Faerie. She was so—beautiful—and she giggled! she whispered, smiling thru her tears.

"You never told a soul—did you? Is this why you’ve told Megan how beautiful they are! Sister! What are you thinking! Oh dear God—they’ve marked her! You know that, don’t you? It’s a miracle they didn’t claim her as a babe!"

Oh go on! That doesn’t happen—well, at least I’ve never seen it happen! I asked granny once, before she passed, if she knew of any child that actually disappeared—where the —faeries could be blamed, and not some wicked human. She said no! I suspect that’s just an old wives tale, likely told and used to hide some evil act by people!

But you can’t be sure of that, can you? Leah slyly asked. Her sister sat still, eyes downcast, considering this.

I suppose not—but I still think it’s unlikely. All I care is that Megan not be abused for being what she is; a little child!

That would be easier and much more likely if she didn’t have faerie eyes and hair, now wouldn’t it? Leah asked sharply.

I’m sure it would, Alannah sighed helplessly.

After supper, when everyone had long sense departed, Megan returned to the subject of Faeries, sitting close against her mother, who was holding her sleeping baby brother.

Mama? Do I really look like a faerie? she asked earnestly."

Megan—you’re a pretty little girl! her mother sighed, less than thrilled to have this brought back up again.

But do I look like a faerie or not? Megan repeated, not wishing to be denied an answer.

Maybe you do—just a bit. Faeries are supposed to have bright blue eyes, and pale blond hair, but no one really knows for sure! I got just a peek at one—I think, if it wasn’t my eyes playing tricks on me!

Was it a boy or a girl? Megan asked, not the least dissuaded by her mother’s comments, and tentative manner.

Maybe—a girl, Alannah admitted reluctantly.

She looked like me, didn’t she? Megan demanded. Her mother finally nodded.

Good! Mom? Someday I want to see the faeries myself! This made Alannah nearly wet herself.

Megan! That’s dangerous! People who go to visit the land of Faerie seldom return! I don’t want anything wicked to happen to you!

Are you sure? Who do you know that went? Did they come back? the small girl asked pointedly. Her mother sighed, uncomfortable with simply lying to her child.

I—I don’t know of any who went. But the stories all say it’s happened. That’s why people are so—disturbed that you might be—part faerie, or at least have been touched by them, This seemed to astound Megan.

But mom! I’m not a faerie, am I? Her mother agreed that that seemed unlikely. How can people be afraid of things they’ve never seen? she next asked, amazed by this idea.

Dear Megan! People are afraid of God, and no one’s seen Him either!

But—I thought He was supposed to be nice? That’s what Father Murphy always says! Megan complained.

Ah, yes, but they say He smites and punishes evil people, and apparently we’ve got a lot of people with guilty consciences here!

Oh. Mother—if God only punishes bad people, wouldn’t the faeries only hurt bad people too? I’m not a bad child—am I? So they should be nice to me! Megan excitedly declared, finding this perfectly reasonable.

Megan! her mother sighed, amazed at her daughter’s strange logic. "We honestly have no idea what the faeries might be like, good or bad. It just pays to be wise, and not ask for trouble!

Well, good! I have no want to cause trouble—I just want to meet the faeries! she declared. Alannah, alarmed at this, was desperate for a way to discourage this tendency.

I’m sorry dear, you can’t visit faerie until you’re older, probably nearly old enough to marry! Children aren’t allowed in there! she lied, saying a hasty prayer for forgiveness for her fabrication.

Oh, I guess I’ll have to wait then, Megan said sounding sad, but resigned. Her mother, eager to have this go away, smiled.

That’s a good girl! Alannah declared, offering her a small kiss.

Hopefully she’ll be obsessed with boys by then, and not faeries, she thought, having no idea how wrong that would prove to be.

3

Megan slept fitfully, overcome by the faerie Queen’s magic trance. She was plagued by strange and incomprehensible dreams, some of which seemed frightening and dire. She had no way to guess which were realistic or possible, and which were merely her own mind’s idle speculation. That some seemed to mirror the Queens dire comments should have made them less terrible, at least since they should have been familiar, but did not since Megan had no memory of her meeting with the Queen currently.

She awoke, finding herself lying on her back, her hands by her side. She had been carefully placed on a soft surface, which seemed amazingly cushy. Her eyes fluttered open, finding a soft light enveloping her, and when she slowly turned her head to the left, she discovered its source; an open window let early morning light stream in.

It took several moments for her to notice that the window was graced with metal bars, which would make any escape impossible. Megan frowned slightly, her mind unable or unwilling to grasp what this meant or implied. She turned her head slowly to her right, and felt her mouth drop open, finding herself confronting a young Faerie girl, sitting and watching her, clearly fascinated.

Who might you be? she asked reflexively, having temporarily no memory of her meeting with the faerie Queen, or even her journey to the land of Faerie. The young faerie giggled boisterously, before finally putting her hands over her mouth, to suppress her mirth.

I am called Aimoroth, Mistress, she managed to reply, and then giggled again. Her eyes, of the brightest blue that Megan had ever seen, save for her own, seemed to sparkle and gleam with a secret knowledge. As if she too noted this similarity, the young Faerie added, You have faerie eyes—did you know that? Again she giggled. Megan found this giggling to be amusing and odd, but was quite taken with the Faerie’s charm and cuteness.

Is that what they are? she wondered, having been teased many times over their unusual color by her fellow villagers. Aimoroth nodded in ascent. Megan suddenly looked alarmed, her missing memory coming to her attention, along with a sharp feeling of panic.

Don’t be afraid. What is wrong? the young one asked, sounding concerned but still amused.

I—I can’t remember anything! she moaned.

That’s not true, the faerie contradicted her. What is your name?

Megan—Megan O’Hare.

Where are you from? the Faerie continued casually.

Harwich! Megan managed to answer.

Do you remember your family? Your childhood?

Megan considered this a bit, finally nodded.

But you don’t remember anything that’s happened to you here? Aimoroth wondered, nonchalantly playing with her hair.

I don’t even know—where are we? she asked, suddenly puzzled. Aimoroth laughed indiscreetly, before stopping suddenly, having glimpsed Megan’s panicked look. The faerie touched her cheek gently.

You are in Faerie, where you came to visit the Queen. She has—touched you, wishing to understand you better. Your memory of meeting her will return, whether you wish it to or not, she informed Megan, in a way that would have sounded sinister, had she not giggled. Now, you lie still, while I go inform someone that you are awake. That one can answer your questions better, she suggested.

When Aimoroth had departed, Megan decided to sit up, so as to look around better. She was again shocked to discover that her body would not respond to her wishes, being utterly paralyzed, except for her ability to turn her head. This seemed immensely sinister, the understanding that she was helpless, unable to even move, coming upon her in a wicked rush.

Why am I unable to move? What will they do with me? she wondered, aghast at her predicament. She was suddenly confronted by an even bigger mystery. How did I come to be in Faerie? she thought, utterly astounded. I certainly wasn’t foolish enough to come here on my own—was I? she considered nervously, her entire childhood, which she could still recall, having been filled with caution and warnings about how dangerous and unwise such a venture would be. Lacking her memory of her recent decisions, and her own stubborn resolve to actually do just that, she was merely perplexed. They must have captured me somehow, she thought, sighing helplessly at her state of ignorance.

She heard voices, faint at first, then growing louder, as well as the unmistakable sound of Faerie laughter. Megan turned her head to the right, where the room door was located, and waited for someone to enter. She was not surprised to see Aimoroth reappear, but the young faerie was followed a moment later by a larger, male faerie. This one stepped close and looked her over thoroughly, his eyes, like Aimoroth’s, a brilliant blue. They seemed full of amusement and curiosity.

I see our guest is awake! Megan, how do you feel? he asked kindly. I am Therimia, who serves the Queen and does much of her bidding, he added.

Oh—I—I’m not sure! I can’t move my arms or legs! she replied, a noticeable hint of panic in her voice. Therimia touched her arm, then her legs with a strong and narrow index finger.

Can you feel that?

Megan nodded. Yes! It feels like you’re touching my bare skin! How is that possible? she wondered, curious. Therimia and Aimoroth glanced at each other, before bursting into laughter. When they were composed again, Therimia shrugged apologetically, and cleared his throat.

"Likely because you are completely bare, my dear child. Your dress was taken to be cleaned and—restored," he added. Aimoroth giggled at Megan’s shocked look, before Therimia gave her a frown.

Sorry, the young faerie sighed, looking like she was trying hard