Fairy Whymsy
The fairy Whymsy twirled. She did that a lot. Behind her were blue skies with rainbows and bunny-shaped clouds, ahead was a sporadic drizzle accompanied by a half-hearted haze. A deep pride filled her as the dreariness of the wyrld faded away and was replaced by her improvements. She took to skipping and bright golden poppies sprung up along the meadow path she followed. It was going to be a lovely day.
She felt exhilarated. There was nothing better than a springtime meadow after the rain. She could feel the seeds in the ground taking root. The air was crisp. And as the sun rose high, the trills and titters of life resuming brought joy—
Fairy Whymsy stopped. There was the rustling of the wind in the tall grass, but that was the only sound. The joy she had anticipated failed to materialize, and instead she felt alone. Whymsy didn’t know why, but she didn’t want to be in the meadow anymore. No, that’s was a lie, she knew exactly why she didn’t want to be there, she just couldn’t admit it.
The path ambled. She wanted it to be straight. She waited. She tapped her foot and coughed, “Straight” she told the path. The path remained as winding as ever. Fairy Whymsy was not amused. She looked up at the sky, “that cloud looks like a snowy unicorn.” The cloud did not. One might be convinced if they turned their head the right way that the cloud looked like a beaver having its head severed by an angry blue jay, but there was not a trace of unicorn in the entire sky.
“I just love to hear the birds sing, ” Fairy Whymsy announced. She needed reassurance. Fairies were magic, their thoughts became real, that was how it worked, and anyways birds always sing in the meadow, it’s why they exist in the first place.
A twitter arose from the nearby bush, choked and hollow.
The phrase ‘that’s better’ played in her mind, but it wasn’t. She didn’t need to see what was in the bush to know. It was no coincidence that her fluffy cloud looked like a decapitated beaver, and based on what was in the bush, the beaver clan had gotten revenge on the blue jay.
It was all so much to feel at once. The path was too long. The bush was too near. Her magic was useless. And she couldn’t breathe. She screamed at the top of her lungs, “Vengeance” and crumpled to the ground.
Fairy Vengeance arrived in the shape of a cat, took one look at Whymsy, and changed to something a bit more human. “Let’s get you out of here,” she said taking her friend by the arm.
“No, something needs to be done,” Whymsy replied.
“Did you have something in mind?”
Fairy Whymsy glared in response. They had known each other long enough that it was a) obvious Whymsy had no idea of what she wanted or needed and b)that even if she did, her friend would most likely disagree.
“Fine, but if we are going to stay here, there need to be some improvements.”
Vengeance started by making a bubble. She hated bubbles, they were flimsy and frivolous, but her bubble at least served a purpose. It pushed aside all the things Whymsy wasn’t ready to deal with and gave her a space so she could. It also gave them a place to have tea, and by tea Vengeance meant coffee spiked with whisky and sweet cream. Vengeance’s bubble also included several overstuffed chairs, a stack of plush blankets, and a scattering of throw pillows that greatly resembled a small brood of sleeping house cats.
Vengeance handed Whymsy her tea, set her down in a chair, and surrounded her with blankets and pillows, “Talk.”
“They’re all dead.” Whymsy whimpered.
“Yes.”
“Everything.”
“Yes.”
“Everything in the meadow from the birds, to the bugs, to the seeds in the ground.”
Vengeance sipped her coffee and replied matter of factly. “There is a colony of anthrax deep underground in the bead by the river, but I don’t think you were counting them.”
Whymsy groaned. “I don’t suppose there are any tea cakes to go with the tea.”
“Not if you’re going to be all proper,” Vengeance replied. “If you want something, ask for it, or better yet, make it yourself.”
Whymsy produced a lumpy batch of biscuits.
“Hyls fury,” Vengeance groaned. “Gopher skulls, really?” She tossed the bread out of the bubble and conjured a plate of brownies and blondies.
Whymsy took two of each. “It doesn’t make it better.”
“Nothing is going to make it better for life in the meadow, it’s all been eradicated, but this isn’t about them, it’s about you. You need to get better so we can get out of this bubble.”
“Something has to be done, Fairy Malice can’t just—”
Vengeance cut her off. “This isn’t Malice, this is Chaos.”
“But…”
“Yes, it’s much easier to seek retribution from a monster, but Chaos means well, so that complicates things.”
Fairy Whymsy crumpled. The tantalizing notion of doling out righteous justice had energized her, but now she was right back to where she had started. What was the point of being a fairy if she couldn’t fix a single bad thing?
All she wanted was to spread joy and happiness. Rainbows, fluffy clouds, rock formations that looked like a dog scratching their ears—just a little bit of kitsch and nonsense, but they made the day better, and that meant something to her. How can she skip and make croaking toads sound like old men groaning when all the toads were dead?
Vengeance turned Whymsy’s pillow into a cat. It purred as she stroked it softly. Vengeance found life easy. She always knew what to do when she was mad, and she always got her own back, but it was different for her friend.
“What am I going to do?” Fairy Whymsy sighed.
“I don’t know, what are you going to do?” Vengeance asked.
Whymsy didn’t want to answer, but she did anyway. “I’m going to get up, and let the rain come back, then when it clears I’m going to fill this valley with rainbows and flowers.”
