The following is a short story that I am going to expand. I would love to hear your comments before I make the attempt. Thanks!!!
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Jenna stumbled eagerly into the kitchen, but her hope died as she saw the morning sun glinting off the translucent, white liquid puddled on the tile floor around the rocking glass. He was still angry. She watched its amoeboid like progress in the tan grout and the strange, creeping edge that was just a little blue. Every day for a week now… She flung the tear away angrily, trying not to remember. Each morning, in that confusing place between sleeping and waking, she thought it was a bad dream… until she saw the evidence on the floor. She tried not to think about how it began, but it felt like she had to remember the whole story from the beginning.
___
Long before she met him, she had loved the sun and would sit for hours on end in the bright patches of light, just staring at the sparkling dust motes. She would try and touch them, moving slowly so she wouldn’t cause even the slightest breeze. They always remained just out of touch. Until the day she brought a glass of milk with her. Usually she only had milk with her cereal, but the gallon was about to expire. She watched the sunlight shine through the milk, projecting unexpected colors, and she forgot all about the sparkling dust motes. That is, until they converged above the milk in a swirling sparkle. She almost imagined there was a figure in the swirls, delicately sipping the milk. It was another month of sunshine and crispy milk before she was sure, but a form was there. Then he showed himself, a beautiful translucent fairy with skin the color of milk. While he sipped the milk, he told her stories of the ages and of Queen Mab and of black horses with glowing eyes. He was enchanting and she was enchanted. She ceased going out on the weekends, spending more time with him instead. Her friends stopped calling and making plans. She lost that fire that distinguished her at work and she lost her job. If it hadn’t been for the trust fund, she would have been in serious trouble. Yet, she was happy in the sun with her fairy and nothing else mattered.
One day as she was wishing aloud that she could be an immortal fairy and be with him forever, he told her there was a way. At first, he wouldn’t say more. When he finally explained, she balked. There was no way. She couldn’t tear the heart out of her family like that. She couldn’t do it, she told him. After that, he didn’t join her in the sunlight anymore. The crisp milk sat untouched until it got sour. She left a glass of milk on the counter every night before she went to bed, hoping. She wiped up the puddle every morning.
___
She had just pulled a paper towel off the roll to sop up the milk, when she heard the shuffle of slippers. Her grandmother came through the doorway in Jenna’s borrowed bathrobe. Grama had arrived last night on the 8 o’clock flight from Georgia, because she was worried about Jenna, just like the rest of the family.
Seeing Jenna’s tear streaked face, she smiled gently and stooped to help.
“You know, there is a saying my dear,” Grama said with a little chuckle. “Don’t cry over spilt…”
Jenna didn’t hear the rest, even though she knew what was coming. She ran out of the room crying harder. No one ever cried about the milk did they? None of the women from his stories had ever cried over a spill, she was sure, but no one else had ever understood that. She thought about the beautiful dairy maid from one of his stories. She would sing to him and laugh and squirt milk into his mouth as she milked the cows. She had been funny, he had told her, but she had died young. They had all died young…he had told her… all the women…all his lovers had died young… about her age. Yet, he was still looking for an eternal companion? Had they been afraid to do what he wanted her to do? Or had they gone through with it? Suddenly resolved, she had to know. Shutting herself in her room, she sat in the sun and used the decorative dagger replica from that movie with all the elves to make the incision on her wrist. The dagger wasn’t sharp, but it was enough. As the blood welled up, it looked ghastly. Some dripped on the window sill, in a scarlet pool. Then she waited for him, kneeling in front of the window, her arms folded on the sill, her head resting on her arms and her wrists oozing. It wasn’t long before he was there.
“You are coming to join me my love? At last,” he whispered, settling in on her arm to wait with her.
She smiled at him and slowly closed her eyes, as if it would be for the last time. Then exhaled and did not inhale. With her last breath, she felt him leave her arm.
Then she stealthily inhaled and her eyes snapped open to see him on all fours lapping up the blood drops. His pale shade became mottled with red, turning him from an ethereal being into a stained creature. She sat up and he raised his face to her, hissing with his bloodied mouth. How could she have ever loved this thing? How could she have let her all her friends slip away for this? What if she had done as he asked?
“This is just your game, isn’t it? All of you fairies have a game that you have played through the centuries. Titania stole babies. Mab stole dreams. You steal the lives of young women and drink their blood. All those women in your stories were just the next game to you. Why?” she pleaded, wishing he could say something that would make it all untrue.
“It was the only way you could be with me, immortal,” he said, trying to repair some of the damage, but the blood around his lips mocked her. She could imagine him saying that to a hundred women through the ages.
“Liar!” she screamed and with all the speed she could muster, brought the dagger replica with a solid thunk though his frail body and into the wood.
A white liquid welled from around the dagger, spilling over the sill, mixing with the few blood drops and dripping down over the carpet. The door crashed open behind her and her grandmother rushed in.
“I heard you yell. Is something wrong?” Then she caught sight of the blood. “Oh, Jenna, what have you done?” she cried and ran out to call 911.
She watched as the fairy’s frail body shrivel and disintegrate back into dust motes. The milk began to soak into the carpet. There would be no evidence left and she would never be able to tell her family, her friends the truth. They would never be convinced she hadn’t really tried to kill herself. It had just been a test and he had failed. It didn’t matter what they thought at first because it would all change. Now, she would be able to get her life back, her friends, and her job. She clenched the two shallow wounds in her wrists together and waited for the paramedics, watching the white liquid drip. No, no one ever really cried over spilled milk.
________________________________
Jenna stumbled eagerly into the kitchen, but her hope died as she saw the morning sun glinting off the translucent, white liquid puddled on the tile floor around the rocking glass. He was still angry. She watched its amoeboid like progress in the tan grout and the strange, creeping edge that was just a little blue. Every day for a week now… She flung the tear away angrily, trying not to remember. Each morning, in that confusing place between sleeping and waking, she thought it was a bad dream… until she saw the evidence on the floor. She tried not to think about how it began, but it felt like she had to remember the whole story from the beginning.
___
Long before she met him, she had loved the sun and would sit for hours on end in the bright patches of light, just staring at the sparkling dust motes. She would try and touch them, moving slowly so she wouldn’t cause even the slightest breeze. They always remained just out of touch. Until the day she brought a glass of milk with her. Usually she only had milk with her cereal, but the gallon was about to expire. She watched the sunlight shine through the milk, projecting unexpected colors, and she forgot all about the sparkling dust motes. That is, until they converged above the milk in a swirling sparkle. She almost imagined there was a figure in the swirls, delicately sipping the milk. It was another month of sunshine and crispy milk before she was sure, but a form was there. Then he showed himself, a beautiful translucent fairy with skin the color of milk. While he sipped the milk, he told her stories of the ages and of Queen Mab and of black horses with glowing eyes. He was enchanting and she was enchanted. She ceased going out on the weekends, spending more time with him instead. Her friends stopped calling and making plans. She lost that fire that distinguished her at work and she lost her job. If it hadn’t been for the trust fund, she would have been in serious trouble. Yet, she was happy in the sun with her fairy and nothing else mattered.
One day as she was wishing aloud that she could be an immortal fairy and be with him forever, he told her there was a way. At first, he wouldn’t say more. When he finally explained, she balked. There was no way. She couldn’t tear the heart out of her family like that. She couldn’t do it, she told him. After that, he didn’t join her in the sunlight anymore. The crisp milk sat untouched until it got sour. She left a glass of milk on the counter every night before she went to bed, hoping. She wiped up the puddle every morning.
___
She had just pulled a paper towel off the roll to sop up the milk, when she heard the shuffle of slippers. Her grandmother came through the doorway in Jenna’s borrowed bathrobe. Grama had arrived last night on the 8 o’clock flight from Georgia, because she was worried about Jenna, just like the rest of the family.
Seeing Jenna’s tear streaked face, she smiled gently and stooped to help.
“You know, there is a saying my dear,” Grama said with a little chuckle. “Don’t cry over spilt…”
Jenna didn’t hear the rest, even though she knew what was coming. She ran out of the room crying harder. No one ever cried about the milk did they? None of the women from his stories had ever cried over a spill, she was sure, but no one else had ever understood that. She thought about the beautiful dairy maid from one of his stories. She would sing to him and laugh and squirt milk into his mouth as she milked the cows. She had been funny, he had told her, but she had died young. They had all died young…he had told her… all the women…all his lovers had died young… about her age. Yet, he was still looking for an eternal companion? Had they been afraid to do what he wanted her to do? Or had they gone through with it? Suddenly resolved, she had to know. Shutting herself in her room, she sat in the sun and used the decorative dagger replica from that movie with all the elves to make the incision on her wrist. The dagger wasn’t sharp, but it was enough. As the blood welled up, it looked ghastly. Some dripped on the window sill, in a scarlet pool. Then she waited for him, kneeling in front of the window, her arms folded on the sill, her head resting on her arms and her wrists oozing. It wasn’t long before he was there.
“You are coming to join me my love? At last,” he whispered, settling in on her arm to wait with her.
She smiled at him and slowly closed her eyes, as if it would be for the last time. Then exhaled and did not inhale. With her last breath, she felt him leave her arm.
Then she stealthily inhaled and her eyes snapped open to see him on all fours lapping up the blood drops. His pale shade became mottled with red, turning him from an ethereal being into a stained creature. She sat up and he raised his face to her, hissing with his bloodied mouth. How could she have ever loved this thing? How could she have let her all her friends slip away for this? What if she had done as he asked?
“This is just your game, isn’t it? All of you fairies have a game that you have played through the centuries. Titania stole babies. Mab stole dreams. You steal the lives of young women and drink their blood. All those women in your stories were just the next game to you. Why?” she pleaded, wishing he could say something that would make it all untrue.
“It was the only way you could be with me, immortal,” he said, trying to repair some of the damage, but the blood around his lips mocked her. She could imagine him saying that to a hundred women through the ages.
“Liar!” she screamed and with all the speed she could muster, brought the dagger replica with a solid thunk though his frail body and into the wood.
A white liquid welled from around the dagger, spilling over the sill, mixing with the few blood drops and dripping down over the carpet. The door crashed open behind her and her grandmother rushed in.
“I heard you yell. Is something wrong?” Then she caught sight of the blood. “Oh, Jenna, what have you done?” she cried and ran out to call 911.
She watched as the fairy’s frail body shrivel and disintegrate back into dust motes. The milk began to soak into the carpet. There would be no evidence left and she would never be able to tell her family, her friends the truth. They would never be convinced she hadn’t really tried to kill herself. It had just been a test and he had failed. It didn’t matter what they thought at first because it would all change. Now, she would be able to get her life back, her friends, and her job. She clenched the two shallow wounds in her wrists together and waited for the paramedics, watching the white liquid drip. No, no one ever really cried over spilled milk.
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