Faery Folk

A piece written Based upon the poem by William Butler Yeats "The Stolen Child"

 

Michael woke in his bed, dreams still holding onto him, as the sunlight carefully roused him the final distance to life.

“Are you up yet Michael?”

“Yeah Gran.” he croaked.

Slowly lifting himself from his bed he walked over to the dresser, living with his Gran was hard, he had to have the spare room until they had sorted out one of the others for him, and as such he had reminders that this wasn’t his home everywhere. The reflection once again was judging him in his morning state; his rough cut brown hair falling into his blue eyes like leaves on a pond. Dressing slowly he made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen. His Grandmother was hustling around trying to seem normal, making tea and toast, jobs his granddad used to do for her, jobs his mother used to do for him. The toast was burnt, and the butter was the one he didn’t like. But struggling through breakfast was just something he had come to get used to, everything had become a struggle, he supposed he should enjoy the routine, and with the camping trip that night he didn’t expect much in the way of real food for dinner.

“Are you looking forward to tonight?” she asked

“Yeah, I’ll get to see that beautiful moon you always talk about” he said

“I know moving up here was tough pet, but think about it as an adventure, and I bet your friends haven’t been to the lake before, our families secret.” she said

“Yeah”, he said; an adventure, when all he wanted these days was peace.

 

He knew his response wasn’t too cheery but she just smiled and carried on with her chores. Walking down from the house he spotted Rhiannon at the very end of the drive, and he didn’t blame her for not walking up. His Gran’s house was on the outskirts of the village; meadows and forests were no strangers here and just beyond was the lake, his family’s inheritance, his inheritance one day. The drive stretched for about a mile towards her and she stood patiently waiting, she had already walked from her house just to walk to school with him. He wasn’t sure whether he appreciated that. He wasn’t sure he felt anything enough, but was afraid to ask what others felt. Since his mother died he had been, hollow, and what if he asked someone and they told him he was a freak, a monster, no he felt it was best to keep it to himself and pretend things were fine. Michael always thought that making pretend is what you do when you’re young, it’s not something bad, and it’s what everyone does. But he was nearly sixteen and getting tired of make believe.

 

The day came and the day went and with the ending came the realisation that people would be coming home with him. Nancy’s mum gave them all a lift from school and drove down the drive and then down the little beaten path that lead to the lake, tents clattering in the boot.

“Wow this truly is remarkable, and your family has kept this secret to themselves for so long” Mrs Hope said

“Yeah, I guess we have” Michael replied.

 

With the tents unpacked and the snack-packs off everyone went about setting up the tent. It was a big one but nothing that Alex hadn’t dealt with before. Alex was a guy in Michael’s class that Nancy liked. Being fifteen seemed to be a popular time for dating; Michael on the other hand had never really thought about it, girls didn’t interest him, he’d thought he might be gay at one point but realised that he didn’t have feelings for them either, so he just accepted that he’d work something out, someday. Until then just having people around was nice, he could fit in, but always wondered if the others were pretending to fit in as well.

As the sun crawled to setting, the four of them sat around in the tent porch telling ghost stories and other such tales. Michael wondered why at this tween time they still found stories fun to tell, he supposed it was the atmosphere; the night creeping in and the day leaving them to fend for themselves. As the sun set, a red glow seemed to spread across the lake, ebbing and flowing around the tiny island that sat in the middle. His Gran had told him that in days of old people would leave milk and bread on the shore to keep the Faery Folk away, happy on their island. The night grew heavier on all their eyes and so with one final round of goodnights they all slowly fell to sleep. All except Michael, he didn’t sleep well normally and now was no exception, as he lay in the dark he was thinking over everything that had happened recently, his Grandad passing away, his mother dying, and overall why he couldn’t feel what came so easily to everyone else. As he thought this he heard something out by the lake, not an animal for no animal calls like that, slowly so as not to wake the others, Michael crept out of the tent and made his way down the lake.

 

The island was bathed in the moonlit waters and everything felt peaceful here, something felt strange though. On the far side of the island Michael was sure he could see something, a fire perhaps, some source of light. This intrigued him as he knew no one went out to the island, his family had owned all this land for generations and only they came out here, as he pondered the source it seemed that the light was getting closer, something small and agile flitting into his vision then out. Michael knew most people would have been scared, but he hadn’t gotten the hang of that either, and there was no one around to pretend to, so he just watched it approach. It couldn’t have been bigger than an owl, but the light blurred it, made its edges rough, its outline uncertain, it was like something in your periphery but coming straight for you. As it approached he could hear things, whispering eyrie sounds, like thoughts at the back of your mind, gently caressing the surface. It stopped and hovered just infront of his face, he thought it looked just like a Faery and as he thought it, the thing slowly began to change, its rough outline became sharp and clear its features porcelain, perfect. The whispering started again, with us…forever…happy…come…waters and the wild.  He stepped back, he felt strange, World…not meant for…you  like the thing understood what it was like to be him. Know you…feel you…help you…save you. They were so tempting, but Michael managed to whisper,

“One more day, I need to know”

Tomorrow…moonrise…sing with us…dance with us…swim with us…

Walking back up to the campsite Michael was filled with calm, for weeks he had felt empty, hollow and now he had purpose. He wasn’t sure whether anyone else should know about what happened, he knew it would sound crazy, and he felt “they” wouldn’t want him to tell anyone; so it would be his secret.

 

The day came and with it sunshine and freedom, weekends seemed to make the others very happy, Michael wondered what that felt like. They all went down to the shore of the lake to relax and talk, Michael was on the lookout for his secret friends but saw nothing but normality all day. As the conversations wound down, and the tent got packed away Michael realised that They were right, this didn’t feel normal, everyone got on with their lives but he couldn’t help feeling out of place. His friends left in the afternoon and as the sun crept towards its resting place Michael sat within his room, full on food and thought, alone, but knowing that this wouldn’t be for long. They had promised to save him, and help him, so he would go to them when the moon was high and then for the first time since all this chaos began things would hopefully make sense.

 

 

Sneaking out of the house was easier than he thought, and with the moon rising higher in the sky he could see quite comfortably, all the way down, to the shore of the lake. As he approached he could hear them singing, softly humming within his head. It was with them he belonged, a child of the Faeries. They were all dancing on the island, this time on the side closest to him, not wanting to call out to them he waded into the water, heading towards the distant shore; as he did a multitude of lights and colours rushed to greet him, whispering their encouragement. The waters began to get deeper and he relaxed into them…Help you…carry you…rest at last…rest forever. So he did, let them help him; the water was far above and below him now, and the moon made the surface look like a portal to a distant world, the voices had stopped, and the lights and colours were gone, he couldn’t remember where…a distant voice was calling, muffled, far away. It was calling his name, through the waters.

“Michael! Michael!”

But he was too far gone now; he had made his choice, this world was not for him, they were right.

Reviews

[Brette Medb]

This was a really good story but I do agree there are too many commas. You might also want to go back and look for some typos I found a few here and there. Other than that this was a great story, I feel like if you added more of his history, like flashes of his life before moving in with his grandmother it would add more to the story and why he chose to be led by the Faeries. Nice write.


Brette

[Kevin Doran]

I see what you mean about the commas, I think I get scared and just throw in a comma, it's aweful. Also I need to go back and get rid of everything where I tell the reader what is happening, and show them instead... Thank you for your review.

[Leah Elisabeth]

This is an interesting story. I think it has potential. You have a little bit of awkward comma usage so that was a little bit distracting. I don't think your story would suffer from a little more exposition. It is possible to explain a little more without giving away too much. Plus, there were not a lot of surprises so I think you could say more about his family and their past. But in all, it was an intriguing story and I hope you do more with it.