I often tell people that I rarely had a plan for anything. What they inferred from that was that I literally wake up every day and wing through the twenty four hours and somehow survive. Of course, that's absurd, I do have small plans for myself daily; I think about tasks and places to eat and who to avoid et cetera. However, what I never dabbled in was - what I believe - the absurd idea of a so and so year plan. Banking some sort of hope that things would go alright for me under no substantial evidence was an intolerable act, I could never understand how it actually fit in the whole definition of success.
With this in mind, I think that it's perfectly understandable for me to say that never did I plan nor expect to wake up in my bed one relatively normal morning to find a very naked body of a fairy - by this I mean a real fairy, the magical one - draped, tangled and in quite a few parts seemingly glued to my similarly unclothed body.
I did not see this coming. Or did I? Yes there have been moments of intimacy, the electric sexual tension that one shares between friends but that was about it. You've been in that situation yourself, I'd wager, there's always that one friend who tends to ignite the very primal nature in yourself; an instinct which blots out any thought of consequence, an engine fed exclusively of lust.
Perhaps I could have stopped it, killed the seed before it had a chance to pullulate and sink its roots into the generous earth. Maybe. However, when I considered the scenario that I was in, I was convinced that it wasn't a viable option.
This mysterious woman, this enigma of creation, this magical creature began to force her existence upon mine by simply appearing out of thin air in my home. Her initial visits were short and consisted of short insignificant conversations, always outside of my house itself. It was easy for me to accept the somewhat ominous fact that I was neighbours with fairies, or bunian as they were more commonly called around here, and I paid little heed to what it forebode. You see, while being a person fully invested in science, I had some form of belief in the existence of the supernatural; owing largely to the fact that I grew up surrounded by folklore. It was, in fact, easy to dismiss the stories as mere hogwash but when I began to see with my own eyes the often incomprehensible occurrence or sightings around my childhood home, I gradually accepted the existence of a world separate from ours.
After awhile, her late night visits became more frequent and I found myself continuously startled by her sudden appearance in my house. I'd come home to discover her rummaging through my pantry or be caught off guard when she nonchalantly complains about an issue while I watched the news, previously believing that I was alone.
The logical person would take these signs as an unhealthy attachment and proceed to find a way to relieve himself of this burden. This usually entailed hiring the services of a seer or whatever the fuck they are calling themselves nowadays but strangely, I was reluctant to do so. I did not sense any sort of malice resonating from her, only a strangely relatable sense of overbearing loneliness. Her eyes, even as they sparkled with equal parts wisdom and mischief, were clouded by sadness.
So thus began what I viewed as such an unlikely friendship. I learned about her world and the culture - which wasn't any different from ours, all things considered - and she was seemingly content with emptying my fridge to sate her quite impressive appetite.
I became used to her presence, eventually. What used to be a chat outside the window quickly became long winded conversations at the dining table. Then the interactions moved to the living room. Words were replaced by actions and then all of the sudden, there we were, legs entwined, arms around each other. And then, only then, did I realise the gravity of the situation.
Of all the things that I have foolishly gotten into, this was by far, the strangest and quite possibly, the most dangerous. What if I was unknowingly breaking the law set between Fairy and Man? What if the punishment to that is death? What if she had brothers? What if they were outside my god damned door, silently waiting for me to shuffle out of my room?
I heard a sound and turned around to find her trying to stifle a laugh. She sighed and shook her head at me, as a mother would to a hopeless child.
"There are no laws set. Well, at least none that I know off," she said, wriggling out of the comforter and pushing herself up, exposing a perfectly shaped breast. Yawning, she continued. "And I don't have brothers either, I told you I was an only child a hundred over times now."
"I told you to stay out of my head."
"Well, to be fair, you were making it too easy. It's like screaming into those black rods that makes your voice go boom and telling people to not listen."
"A microphone, you mean?" She shrugged and took my hand; gliding her slender fingers over the creases as if reading them. There were moments like this where I was sure she had something more to say but I didn't know how to coax them out of her. We'd just sit - or in this case, lay - there in silence, listening to the songs of the night. She drew me closer and held on to me tight, as if afraid that she might lose me.
"What will you do when I die?" I asked, almost on a whim. Immediately, I felt her stiffen up but I could not gauge how badly my question affected her because her hair obstructed her face.
"What do you mean?" I heard her murmur. Caressing her neck, I tried to sound jovial, as if the question didn't mean anything.
"Well, you know, since you're near immortal, I'll probably die first." I could feel her expression change as her face laid upon my chest. "I'm just curious to what you'll do, that's all."
She was silent for a long time, which was in itself, a very unusual act. I figured that she must have gone back to sleep, leaving the question unanswered. Not paying much heed, I got out of bed only to find her grip tighten around my chest, to the point where it hurt.
"Pu- Putri?" I managed to sputter before she clambered on top of me and pinned me down with her weight. I suddenly realised that she was crying, eyes welled up with tears as they streamed down her cheeks, tinted black from the kohl. Sadness was etched into her face, masked very poorly by a layer of fury which I saw right through. Her hands, clenched in fists, struck at my chest but with no real intention to hurt, merely as a channel from which her frustration flowed. Through suppressed sobs, I could make out what she tried to say.
"It will break me."
With this in mind, I think that it's perfectly understandable for me to say that never did I plan nor expect to wake up in my bed one relatively normal morning to find a very naked body of a fairy - by this I mean a real fairy, the magical one - draped, tangled and in quite a few parts seemingly glued to my similarly unclothed body.
I did not see this coming. Or did I? Yes there have been moments of intimacy, the electric sexual tension that one shares between friends but that was about it. You've been in that situation yourself, I'd wager, there's always that one friend who tends to ignite the very primal nature in yourself; an instinct which blots out any thought of consequence, an engine fed exclusively of lust.
Perhaps I could have stopped it, killed the seed before it had a chance to pullulate and sink its roots into the generous earth. Maybe. However, when I considered the scenario that I was in, I was convinced that it wasn't a viable option.
This mysterious woman, this enigma of creation, this magical creature began to force her existence upon mine by simply appearing out of thin air in my home. Her initial visits were short and consisted of short insignificant conversations, always outside of my house itself. It was easy for me to accept the somewhat ominous fact that I was neighbours with fairies, or bunian as they were more commonly called around here, and I paid little heed to what it forebode. You see, while being a person fully invested in science, I had some form of belief in the existence of the supernatural; owing largely to the fact that I grew up surrounded by folklore. It was, in fact, easy to dismiss the stories as mere hogwash but when I began to see with my own eyes the often incomprehensible occurrence or sightings around my childhood home, I gradually accepted the existence of a world separate from ours.
After awhile, her late night visits became more frequent and I found myself continuously startled by her sudden appearance in my house. I'd come home to discover her rummaging through my pantry or be caught off guard when she nonchalantly complains about an issue while I watched the news, previously believing that I was alone.
The logical person would take these signs as an unhealthy attachment and proceed to find a way to relieve himself of this burden. This usually entailed hiring the services of a seer or whatever the fuck they are calling themselves nowadays but strangely, I was reluctant to do so. I did not sense any sort of malice resonating from her, only a strangely relatable sense of overbearing loneliness. Her eyes, even as they sparkled with equal parts wisdom and mischief, were clouded by sadness.
So thus began what I viewed as such an unlikely friendship. I learned about her world and the culture - which wasn't any different from ours, all things considered - and she was seemingly content with emptying my fridge to sate her quite impressive appetite.
I became used to her presence, eventually. What used to be a chat outside the window quickly became long winded conversations at the dining table. Then the interactions moved to the living room. Words were replaced by actions and then all of the sudden, there we were, legs entwined, arms around each other. And then, only then, did I realise the gravity of the situation.
Of all the things that I have foolishly gotten into, this was by far, the strangest and quite possibly, the most dangerous. What if I was unknowingly breaking the law set between Fairy and Man? What if the punishment to that is death? What if she had brothers? What if they were outside my god damned door, silently waiting for me to shuffle out of my room?
I heard a sound and turned around to find her trying to stifle a laugh. She sighed and shook her head at me, as a mother would to a hopeless child.
"There are no laws set. Well, at least none that I know off," she said, wriggling out of the comforter and pushing herself up, exposing a perfectly shaped breast. Yawning, she continued. "And I don't have brothers either, I told you I was an only child a hundred over times now."
"I told you to stay out of my head."
"Well, to be fair, you were making it too easy. It's like screaming into those black rods that makes your voice go boom and telling people to not listen."
"A microphone, you mean?" She shrugged and took my hand; gliding her slender fingers over the creases as if reading them. There were moments like this where I was sure she had something more to say but I didn't know how to coax them out of her. We'd just sit - or in this case, lay - there in silence, listening to the songs of the night. She drew me closer and held on to me tight, as if afraid that she might lose me.
"What will you do when I die?" I asked, almost on a whim. Immediately, I felt her stiffen up but I could not gauge how badly my question affected her because her hair obstructed her face.
"What do you mean?" I heard her murmur. Caressing her neck, I tried to sound jovial, as if the question didn't mean anything.
"Well, you know, since you're near immortal, I'll probably die first." I could feel her expression change as her face laid upon my chest. "I'm just curious to what you'll do, that's all."
She was silent for a long time, which was in itself, a very unusual act. I figured that she must have gone back to sleep, leaving the question unanswered. Not paying much heed, I got out of bed only to find her grip tighten around my chest, to the point where it hurt.
"Pu- Putri?" I managed to sputter before she clambered on top of me and pinned me down with her weight. I suddenly realised that she was crying, eyes welled up with tears as they streamed down her cheeks, tinted black from the kohl. Sadness was etched into her face, masked very poorly by a layer of fury which I saw right through. Her hands, clenched in fists, struck at my chest but with no real intention to hurt, merely as a channel from which her frustration flowed. Through suppressed sobs, I could make out what she tried to say.
"It will break me."
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