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This is the first part of a story about fairies and other things.
A girl was walking in the rain, about halfway between school and the train station that would take her home. She wore a dull orange raincoat with the hood pulled tight around her head and walked slowly, dawdling occasionally to watch streams of water drain into the sewer grates. She didn’t mind the rain, not when it was warm and relatively light. She liked the sounds of water and the way the world looked when everything was wet.
Her name was Autumn. She was going to miss her train home, but that was okay; there would be another train in ten minutes or so. She was probably going to fail an essay in intro to philosophy, which was due at midnight and which she hadn’t started -- that was less okay, but she’d still pass the class, probably. Her boyfriend of four months had finally broken up -- by text message -- after avoiding her for two weeks; that was definitely not okay but there wasn’t a whole lot she could do without it besides cry, which she had already done earlier that afternoon and seemed redundant when it was raining anyway.
He had been following her for several minutes already by the time she saw him. He could smell her wistful loneliness, her lack of purpose or direction. He was still sizing her up when she turned, dark eyes raking across him. There was strength in that gaze, almost enough to rip through his glamours and charms like so many cobwebs. But not quite, not here in the rain between places. He stepped forward.
He was average height with a slightly rounded figure and wore a knee-length raincoat of a deep and vivid blue-green which hung open, showing an odd, patchwork vest of shades of brown. His pants and shirt were deep green, his hair was brownish, and the whole lot of him was soaking wet. His smile was radiant and there was a slow, fluid, confident sway to his walk. The word ‘beautiful’ rose unbidden in Autumn’s head. She was not used to applying the word to boys and men, but it seemed more appropriate than the alternatives for this odd person.
He said, “Hello,” and she replied,
“Hello. Why don't you put your hood up?”
He shrugged. “I like water.”
She nodded slowly. They were walking side-by-side toward the train station, now. “I’m Autumn.”
“You can call me Viridian,” he said. “I thought you looked lonely.”
“Yeah,” she said, and, staring into the rain ahead of them, she told him about her now ex-boyfriend, about his laughter and smile and his kind of funny-looking nose and how nice her hand felt in his, about how he’d slowly lost interest in her, drifted away. She told him about school, about her frustration with her written assignments, about the overall lack of direction that was slowly undermining her life. She wasn’t sure why she told him any of this--she was a habitually silent person and rarely discussed her own life even with close friends. Something about the rain, and the walk, and the warmth of his presence beside her, made the talking easy. It felt good, like the rain was washing her worries away even as she spoke them. Occasionally he would nod and say something sympathetic and encourage her to continue.
She realized, once she was finished, that she had spoken for at least ten minutes and that they must surely have passed the station by now. She looked around to try to get her bearings. The rain was coming down as a sort of dense, slowly descending mist, now, and she could hardly see anything.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’re almost there.”
“Almost where?”
He stopped and turned to her, eyes twinkling. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. I mean... the train station, but we’ve passed that already, I should go back...”
“We are on the threshold,” he said. “From here we can step backward or forward.” He touched her hand and she felt a rush of strange euphoria, like the mist around her had leaked into her head. “Will you come with me?” She didn’t really understand, but had a indistinct feeling that she was supposed to say ‘yes’ and follow him. But, on a deeper level, she knew that she didn’t particularly want to. She brushed his hand away and said,
“I’m hungry, I really need to get home and start on supper. I should head back before I miss the next bus.” He looked disappointed and a little hurt, but he shrugged and the fog in her head dissipated.
“Alright,” he said, “We can step backwards for now. Um... would you accept a gift, and perhaps consider accompanying me on a later date?” He fished something out of the pocket of his raincoat and held it out to her.
It was a bracelet made of green and red coloured wire, woven together intricately to form a network of tiny vines and flowers. Even under the overcast sky, it sparkled and gleamed beautifully. Her eyes widened. “Did you make that? It’s very nice.” Autumn herself made and sold small things like this sometimes, usually made from clay, but this was far more elaborate than anything she’d made. She traced the wires with one finger and shivered a little. There was something unsettling about that pattern.
“Yes,” he said, looking extremely pleased with himself. “Took almost a week, very tricky to, um,” he stopped himself. “Do you want to try it on?”
“Can I really just have it? Don’t you want something in exchange?”
He frowned. “Only a promise that you’ll come through the door with me at least once.”
Autumn stood still, staring at the bracelet and listening to the rain. It was difficult to think in this in-between place, but she was distinctly aware of a right choice and a wrong choice.
She made the wrong choice. “Agreed. I’ll take it.”
His eyes widened and he fidgeted nervously with the bracelet as if suddenly having second thoughts. “You’re sure?” She nodded and extended her arm. He fastened it soundlessly around her wrist.
The rain stopped; she was at the station. She stopped for a moment and looked around--for a moment, she’d been certain there was somebody following her, but of course there was nobody nearby.
She took the train home and made herself supper, and it wasn’t until she finally sat down to write her essay that she noticed the strange and beautiful bracelet around her wrist. She had no idea where she’d gotten it and couldn’t seem to figure out how it unfastened. After a few minutes of toying with it she shrugged and gave up. It was very pretty, and very comfortable for something made of little wires, and she was sure she’d remember where it came from soon enough.
A girl was walking in the rain, about halfway between school and the train station that would take her home. She wore a dull orange raincoat with the hood pulled tight around her head and walked slowly, dawdling occasionally to watch streams of water drain into the sewer grates. She didn’t mind the rain, not when it was warm and relatively light. She liked the sounds of water and the way the world looked when everything was wet.
Her name was Autumn. She was going to miss her train home, but that was okay; there would be another train in ten minutes or so. She was probably going to fail an essay in intro to philosophy, which was due at midnight and which she hadn’t started -- that was less okay, but she’d still pass the class, probably. Her boyfriend of four months had finally broken up -- by text message -- after avoiding her for two weeks; that was definitely not okay but there wasn’t a whole lot she could do without it besides cry, which she had already done earlier that afternoon and seemed redundant when it was raining anyway.
He had been following her for several minutes already by the time she saw him. He could smell her wistful loneliness, her lack of purpose or direction. He was still sizing her up when she turned, dark eyes raking across him. There was strength in that gaze, almost enough to rip through his glamours and charms like so many cobwebs. But not quite, not here in the rain between places. He stepped forward.
He was average height with a slightly rounded figure and wore a knee-length raincoat of a deep and vivid blue-green which hung open, showing an odd, patchwork vest of shades of brown. His pants and shirt were deep green, his hair was brownish, and the whole lot of him was soaking wet. His smile was radiant and there was a slow, fluid, confident sway to his walk. The word ‘beautiful’ rose unbidden in Autumn’s head. She was not used to applying the word to boys and men, but it seemed more appropriate than the alternatives for this odd person.
He said, “Hello,” and she replied,
“Hello. Why don't you put your hood up?”
He shrugged. “I like water.”
She nodded slowly. They were walking side-by-side toward the train station, now. “I’m Autumn.”
“You can call me Viridian,” he said. “I thought you looked lonely.”
“Yeah,” she said, and, staring into the rain ahead of them, she told him about her now ex-boyfriend, about his laughter and smile and his kind of funny-looking nose and how nice her hand felt in his, about how he’d slowly lost interest in her, drifted away. She told him about school, about her frustration with her written assignments, about the overall lack of direction that was slowly undermining her life. She wasn’t sure why she told him any of this--she was a habitually silent person and rarely discussed her own life even with close friends. Something about the rain, and the walk, and the warmth of his presence beside her, made the talking easy. It felt good, like the rain was washing her worries away even as she spoke them. Occasionally he would nod and say something sympathetic and encourage her to continue.
She realized, once she was finished, that she had spoken for at least ten minutes and that they must surely have passed the station by now. She looked around to try to get her bearings. The rain was coming down as a sort of dense, slowly descending mist, now, and she could hardly see anything.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’re almost there.”
“Almost where?”
He stopped and turned to her, eyes twinkling. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. I mean... the train station, but we’ve passed that already, I should go back...”
“We are on the threshold,” he said. “From here we can step backward or forward.” He touched her hand and she felt a rush of strange euphoria, like the mist around her had leaked into her head. “Will you come with me?” She didn’t really understand, but had a indistinct feeling that she was supposed to say ‘yes’ and follow him. But, on a deeper level, she knew that she didn’t particularly want to. She brushed his hand away and said,
“I’m hungry, I really need to get home and start on supper. I should head back before I miss the next bus.” He looked disappointed and a little hurt, but he shrugged and the fog in her head dissipated.
“Alright,” he said, “We can step backwards for now. Um... would you accept a gift, and perhaps consider accompanying me on a later date?” He fished something out of the pocket of his raincoat and held it out to her.
It was a bracelet made of green and red coloured wire, woven together intricately to form a network of tiny vines and flowers. Even under the overcast sky, it sparkled and gleamed beautifully. Her eyes widened. “Did you make that? It’s very nice.” Autumn herself made and sold small things like this sometimes, usually made from clay, but this was far more elaborate than anything she’d made. She traced the wires with one finger and shivered a little. There was something unsettling about that pattern.
“Yes,” he said, looking extremely pleased with himself. “Took almost a week, very tricky to, um,” he stopped himself. “Do you want to try it on?”
“Can I really just have it? Don’t you want something in exchange?”
He frowned. “Only a promise that you’ll come through the door with me at least once.”
Autumn stood still, staring at the bracelet and listening to the rain. It was difficult to think in this in-between place, but she was distinctly aware of a right choice and a wrong choice.
She made the wrong choice. “Agreed. I’ll take it.”
His eyes widened and he fidgeted nervously with the bracelet as if suddenly having second thoughts. “You’re sure?” She nodded and extended her arm. He fastened it soundlessly around her wrist.
The rain stopped; she was at the station. She stopped for a moment and looked around--for a moment, she’d been certain there was somebody following her, but of course there was nobody nearby.
She took the train home and made herself supper, and it wasn’t until she finally sat down to write her essay that she noticed the strange and beautiful bracelet around her wrist. She had no idea where she’d gotten it and couldn’t seem to figure out how it unfastened. After a few minutes of toying with it she shrugged and gave up. It was very pretty, and very comfortable for something made of little wires, and she was sure she’d remember where it came from soon enough.
