I held my wings in my hands, reaching them back toward the alux — that tiny protrusion of bones fairies have near their shoulder blades — when three things happened at once. A gust of wind shrieked through the trembling leaves of the silver maples high overhead. Jogga sparked: “Be careful, Moiyra!” And my Scroll unfurled itself. These three events overwhelmed me, causing me to slip on the wet rocks. I released my wings to catch myself from falling.
My hands and knees scuffed from hitting the gravel, I watched my wings prance around one another on the surface of the creek. Floating along the muddy waters with the cottonwood fluff, they soon disappeared into the Kentucky haze. I yanked at my hair and growled.
My Scroll still hovered in the air, snapping slightly in the breeze to get my attention. In precise calligraphy it read: “Your mission is to intervene with the McElroy teens. If you allay their conflict today, they will remain friends for the rest of their adult lives. Plus, you’ll move up to Q Class Fairy Status. If you fail, you will be demoted to S Class and resentment will reign supreme in their relationship forever and ever. Please sign here to accept.”
Jogga sparked: “Need I remind you that Qs get access to the dreamworld?”
“I know, Jogga.”
“You remember that lover you had when you were a human? The one whose name you still murmur in your sleep?”
“Yeah, Jogga, I know. Sarah’s been there for years now. I know.”
“It appears that the sun is setting…” Jogga was a logic-spirit. Their job is to remind us ephemeral beings of worldly realities. Often in stories and lore, they’ve been mistaken as fairy’s pixie dust. Really, they’re a bit of a pain in the neck.
I scrawled my signature and snapped my fingers. My Scroll rolled up and thrust itself right next to my belted dagger. “We can make it if we run.”
“Need I remind you that teens can irreparably harm one another quite quickly?”
“Come on!” I shot over my shoulder as I jumped from rock to rock. My leather boots crunched as they hit the shale on the far bank. I pelted hard for the McElroy double wide perched on top of the ridge.
As I dashed under the long shadows of the honeysuckle, I thought about how much harder this job had gotten over the past couple hundred years. As Sarah used to say, “Belief is an endangered species.”
I popped through an open window into Janie McElroy’s bedroom. Collected dolls and figurines were posed on dozens of shelves. Janie was using her phone’s camera as a mirror, opening her mouth wide, examining the rows of metal that caged her crooked teeth.
Her mom called; “Janie! Come help with dinner!”
She left her phone laying on her pink rug.
Jogga sparked: “Look! She accidentally recorded all that!”
Her brother Rex came in and quickly found the video.
“Yummy!” he said. “I’m posting this!” He touched the two devices together. They pinged as the file was transferred. I looked around for something to use to stop him. A row of figurines stood at attention nearby. I leaped onto their shelf. I unclipped a pair of wings from some dancing bumblebee soldiers and snapped them onto my alux. I dove off the shelf, engaging the flight muscles, and… yes, they worked!
I swept in and stabbed Rex’s finger just before it hit the plus icon on his Insta account. Only a true believer could see me, but I was still of this world enough to interact with it and influence it.
He dropped his phone.
“What the heck!” He picked it up again and reopened his app. “Stupid thing must’ve shocked me.”
I swung in again and grabbed his finger, moving it so that he was hitting the wrong button repeatedly.
“Come on,” he whined. “Why isn’t this working?”
I buzzed around his ear. He started flailing. He accidentally jammed the two phones together again. He must not have heard the ping over the buzzing. But he did hear his Mom yell: “Rex, go help your Daddy with his truck!”
He plopped Janie’s phone on her pink rug in disgust. He jammed his phone into his back jeans pocket and yelled, “I’m coming!”
Janie returned and opened her phone. Her eyes widened. Then, her expression morphed into snickering.
From behind a closed window, I watched as Janie waited in his room. “So,” she said after Rex entered. “I didn’t know you had a Finsta!”
“I don’t.” He crossed his arms.
“Trying to get on America’s Got Talent?”
“No.”
“Then what’s this?” She played a video of him belting out Kelly Clarkson’s “Since U Been Gone.” I held my hands over my ears. Never before had a moving song been so badly butchered.
“How’d you get that? Gimme that back!”
“Only if you gimme back my braces video.”
They stared at each other.
This was my chance. I flew to her phone. With a few deft pokes, I hearted Rex’s “Since U Been Gone” video on Janie’s Insta.
Rex’s phone pinged. When he saw the heart he said, “Why’d you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Heart my video.”
“I didn’t do that.” She held up her phone to demonstrate her heartlessness, but to her dismay, the heart was there. Grimacing, she unmuted it and jacked the “Since U Been Gone” video to max volume.
In response, he held up her braces video.
Somehow, Janie’s hideous mouth movements perfectly lip-synched with Rex’s howling.
They couldn’t help laughing.
My Scroll unfurled.
“Am I Level Q now?”
My Scroll read: “Sincerest Apologies! Your mission won’t be completed until they reach full brain maturity. While you’re waiting, would you like another mission?”
Jogga sparked: “You know, it couldn’t hurt our chances for promotion.”
I said, “Jogga, I can’t wait for Sarah to tell you how right you were.”
Jogga sparked: “Someday, Moira. Someday.”
Kyle Hildebrandt lives in Ohio with his beautiful wife, twenty seven plants, five children, and one passionate desire to light up the world through inspiring storytelling. Previous publications have appeared in Every Day Fiction and Sci Fi Shorts.
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