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Lifesaver
The wind blustered through the trees, swirling fallen leaves as it went, till it reached the old cottage door, lying blown back on its hinges. Maybe she had put just a trifle more oomph into that lock-picking spell than she had meant to, she conceded, looking down at the little electric-blue spark still crackling on the end of her finger. ‘Um, hello?’ she said, stepping tentatively inside, ‘I knocked, but I couldn’t seem to get an answer …’
Strictly speaking, she shouldn’t be doing this, she thought, looking over the neat clay-tiled kitchen, but it wasn’t as if she had much choice. ‘I’m sorry about the door,’ she continued. ‘It’s just … I’m in trouble, and I need your help …’ And, in a whisper, ‘I kind of need a hero …’
*
In the next room, there was a man on the floor, youngish, dark hair – he didn’t look well. Without realizing it, she was kneeling down next to him, checking his breathing, feeling for a pulse: weak, and getting weaker by the minute.
She looked around desperately. She didn’t want to do this. Look at what had happened to the door. But it didn’t look like she had much choice. If she did nothing, he’d probably be dead soon. She extended a finger, crackling with tingling motes of energy – this wasn’t the way this was normally done, but she guessed there was a first time for everything: One, two, three … clear!
*
He drew in a deep gasping breath. There was a … woman kneeling over him with a concerned expression on her face, his skin was tingling all over, and the smell of burnt hair lingered in the air – that, and hers was standing ever so slightly on end.
‘Um, hi,’ she said. ‘You weren’t … um, that is to say, you weren’t well and I kind of …’
‘Thank you,’ he breathed, still kind of gasping.
‘Um … I sort of need … Do you think you could come with me,’ she said brightly, as she helped him to his feet. ‘I’ll explain on the way.’
She led him out past the back door, which was slightly skewed on its hinges for some reason, out through the garden, past the hedgerows, and into the woods; there, hanging in mid-air and apparently made of light, was a magic portal in the middle of the clearing.
She held out her hand to him, glancing towards the portal. ‘So,’ she said, with a big smile, the glowy fairy wings on her back shimmering in the twilight, ‘I was kind of hoping you might be able to help me out …’
Published in Entertainment
Heh, reminds me of “Pixie Pinches” and the follow on story “Recovery” in my series. Not at all the same, but reminds me:
I was thinking “Glory Road”.
Just goes to show, never mess with fairies — you’ll end up pixie-lated.
As in Heinlein? (Haven’t read that one, but if the rest of it’s like the bit people quote, I’ll keep an eye out for it.)
It’s always a delight to scroll down the Ricochet page and discover, “It’s Miller Time!”
Thank you. My pleasure. :)
Use enough dynamite, Butch?
I love stories with fairies . . . carry on!
That whole heroing business is dangerous. Apparently inclusive of the job interview.
Ah, those old doors are tough. Beat out the hinges a little, find the lock . . . Be fixed in no time.
Working on it.*
*: Admittedly, I can’t promise with this specific story, but definitely working on it. :)
You know . . . compared to some of the job interviews I’ve had, that actually doesn’t sound so bad . . .
That’s the problem with these things. Peril of life and limb? No problem. ‘Don’t call me, we’ll call you?’ C’mon man, at least play fair.
Since this post is three days old, it’ll soon drop off the Top Ten list, so before that happens, I wanted to say, well done Andrew! Another great bit of writing.
Reminds me of Terry Pratchett’s Wyrd Sisters.
Thanks, Gary, I really appreciate it. :)
You know, I’m going to be smiling all evening on the strength of that. Thank you! :)
Sometimes you start them and they just run off on you.
The stories or the fairies?
“Hey, where are you going? I want to find out how it ends!”
My theory is that at some point all these stories are going to come together into one book-length feature. There have already been hints of crossover.
Just the one? :) ^.^
The characters can get minds of their own. Then all you can do is just try to keep up while they scamper off.
Yes.
Tell me about it.
A letter of Robert E. Howard makes the genesis of Conan the Barbarian sound as though it was a case of the character being too rambunctious to follow orders. Eventually, Howard just let him go wherever he was going.
Most authors go through that at some point.
My third book in my series has taken much longer than it should have…because some character ran off and eloped 120 years before she was even born. Who told her she could do that?
You don’t use Aeon Timeline?
I’ve got no idea what it is, but now I’m imagining it being pitched in a 1950’s style ad. “Yes sir, it handles grandfather paradoxes, stock market swindles, closed time-loops and philandering protagonists! It’s got zip, zing and verve! Whenever you set down for your time travel storyline, ask for Aeon Timeline!”
My series is a group of related short stories, and I learned long ago to let the characters do what they want. It’s just easier that way. Of course, this meant that what was to be the third book is now six or seven volumes, but somehow I will get on to what would have been the fourth book eventually. There is a lot of rewriting and adjusting that goes on. Besides, I doubt Aeon Timeline could handle anything as complex as what I’m doing. And if it can, it’s probably over built and overpriced.