Not often do those of the fairy invite. hundreds, often thousands of years pass. Perfect and so beautiful are they that rarely are they tempted by those of us so mundane. A beautiful land they live in: perfection of flora and harmony of fauna. Living homes among the trees and hills for nothing do they kill nor do they force the landscape to their pleasure. A bubbling brook is energy for electricity is unknown. Wisdom has found them in the countless seasons that have passed. Night holds no fear for them and they do not diminish its beauty with unnatural illuminations. There is no owner and pet, no rich and poor. only friendship, and the beautiful sanctity of one big family.

     Still though, here on earth there have been some so special and so beautiful as to be mistaken. they are the long lost and interbred descendants of the banished fairy folk.

     Most guess, incorrectly, that they are deficient or aberrent in design. They feel and see things we cannot understand. Yet struggle with simple life. Insatiable, and always in trouble. A mischeviousness more felt than seen. Confused by the vague dreams and elusive memories that something else is out there. someone else.

She was beautiful beyond compare. Her eyes were mystical and possessed of unnatural energy. Like a flame, she could be embraced, yet never held. I treasured every moment spent with her.

     I am not normal, and I sensed the same from her. Something pulling us together , some common cause . I believed in the redemption of man, and she was determined to heal the world. His head twisted oddly to one side as he drew his eyes, so clear and piercing for the 90 years or more he must have been, upon me. Mistake not, he whispered. she and I were not same, very different in fact. And hurricanes did we wreak upon each other...

Nonetheless, we were in love.

     He paused, such a strange one, weathered, and beaten, yet a sparkle in those eyes remained defiant. He would not resign himself to any fate. You see for them, there is no "after" , not like us. We wither and age. locked in a battle we must lose. to join again the dirt from whence we came. Not so for them, they grow wiser, and with time are more able to discern and appreciate the real beauties of life, and the heart. So pure in love, they are beyond the pain of fears or doubt. Living without the worries or fears that rend us so horribly turningloved ones against each other, and souring even the dearest friendships. physical and financial power are unheard of.

     We are so caught up in ourselves, how can I be better now, how can I rise above my peers? What is it going to take, and what sacrifices must be made? These crimes of singularity bring punishments. Unhappiness, anger, and worst of all. to be alone...

The anger passed nearly as quickly as it had exploded and a deep sadness crossed him as he rocked back and forth, turning his head side to side clutching himself with pitifully skinny and shaking arms. twitching nervously, hands going from lap to face as tears began to spatter upon his lap. He looked ashamed and almost childlike. weeping as some unbearable memory weighed upon him.

No life or existence can be perfect indefinitely....

     In their fair lands grew an insiduous and dark menace, and by that desperation did the fairies send their plea. a beacon, begging forgiveness of those so long ago banished. "You are still one of us, and we regret our actions against you. We can only pray time has eased the weight of what we've done. We, your people are upon a brink, at the crossroads of our destruction. It is more than we alone can surpass. so long have we reveled in our beauty, so long have we lived without wars. So long have we believed blindly. the tables have turned, please forgive us. it is we, this time, are helpless.

     Two mushrooms that evening did spring from the earthen ground. Not the first, but two of many. So large as not to be missed in this final desperate call, they exacted terrible energy. Only a few precious days could they last. By the third they had already begun to yellow and shrivel, and as hopes shrank, a million voices beseeching like a child to mother for help began to call for her.

She awoke suddenly around midnight, screaming, drenched in sweat. The air cracking with energy and thick with an unexplainable fear, A terrifying wailing rising in pitch and urgency. I clutched my head in both hands, eyes rolling back to whites until I thought my head would burst. I knew some unspeakable wrong was occuring. as if everything I knew and cared for balanced shrieking at a precipice. She rose, throwing the blanket, rushed from our bedroom and before I could stop her, swung open the door, rushed out to the lawn, ate a mushroom and was dying.

I held her, terrified as she began to convulse, foaming at the mouth, an awful pale white. I pleaded with her to stay, I would do anything. By then the neighbors had begun to gather and dogs to bark as lights turned on up and down the street , seeing only her limp in my arms they began to shout, someone screaming for the police. She smiled to me one last time, the crooked smile I know so well. Before I could speak, she touched my lips with one extended finger to silence me. she turned her fading eyes meaningfully to the final mushroom for a moment, then her body slumped.

Without consideration I rushed for it, gagging as I stuffed it into my mouth. A horrific dizziness, as the world began to spin like a kaledoscope. light and color becoming one. I began to fall into deep pulsing blackness. Like a heart beating I remarked groggily to myself, as it grew slower and slower, turning over and over as darkness seeped around, covering me.

When I awoke, I could see nothing. As my senses began to return I heard distant speaking. melodic and musical voices, almost like singers reciting dialogues. "he isn't really one of us, he only chased her" We cannot allow it. Look, he is so far gone, let him pass. The voices grew fainter, and I was alone.

I am not phsyically strong but I have a determination beyond reason, and when something matters, I will not give in. wave after wave of nauseas and a horrifying weakness that comes from a soul stumbling in death rushed over me. Nothing is more fearful than when life becomes like water dripping through your clutching fingers. by some will beyond even my own, I survived. A week later when they returned for me, I lay upon the stone, anger in my eyes. You will bring me to her, I croaked weakly, or I will rip every single one of you limb from limb.

This time I was not denied.

I knew what I was doing was wrong, as did she, and the tears she wept for me run rivulets upon my soul. He slumped into the ornately carved rocking chair, for the first time looking his age. Yet I left, and I may never return. I worry these old eyes will fail before she calls on me. My deepest fears were self manifested, perils of my own creation. Miserable here, not belonging. Everything I've seen, and the wonders ive witnessed have ruined life for me here. In the end, it was me, a prophet of my own demise. He looked at me imploringly, "you'd not make such a foolish mistake would you". he closed his eyes, so long, for a moment I thought he had passed into slumber. not until minutes later did he speak again. "no, you would not."

and I will wait for her forever...

But enough of this, a story you asked for, and that is what you shall get. He settled his creaking limbs into the deep wood of his chair, and his eyes glazed over as he journeyed backward into memories of a past and distant land.

It began like this.....