Fairy Voices

A haunting tale of domestic abuse and its effect on children

Little Emma would lie on her bed, listening to the confusion going on outside her bedroom.  The house had an old wooden floor, and when they’d walk back and forth, Emma could pinpoint each person’s exact location from the creaking sounds and the thump, thump.  It was muggy hot, even at midnight, and as she lay on her back with her hands folded behind her head, Emma would envision the fairies in the pool of still, cool water that was just down the hill. They would call to her, not out loud but in her head, to jump in to their watery world. She could never fall asleep until the noises had stopped, both outside and inside her head. 

 

Her brother would sleep through it, or at least pretend to be asleep.  The loud voices didn’t concern him.  Her sister even slept through the night that their mother threw the frying pan.  In the mornings, Emma’s eyes would be sore and red, like they had grit in them, and her head would ache for rest.  

 

This particular night, when the noises began again, Emma waited them out patiently, thinking of how perfectly straight Celeste’s hair had been parted and the uniformity of each folded plait in her long braids. Order. She listened to the fairy voices weaving in and out of Celeste’s braided hair, the creaking and thumping.  She wondered which thoughts were real and which were her imagination.  No, fairies are real.

 

Then Emma did something different.  When the sounds became so loud that she was sure her head would explode, she stood up and pushed open the window with all her might.  Then, carefully, she climbed out of it onto the dewy grass outside.  The hem of her nightgown became deliciously wet as she ran with abandonment down the grassy hill. 

 

When Emma came to the shore, she pulled herself up onto the boulders and climbed to the highest one.  She had seen her brother climb these same rocks many times.  Now, at the top, she could see her creaky house and the red-and-green flashing light atop the black-and-white police car.  The siren had been real after all.  In the distance, she could hear hollering and crying and car doors slamming shut.  But when she stepped off the flat-topped boulder and dropped into the clear, still waters below, the only voices Emma heard were the fairies laughing in delight, ready to receive her.

 

 

 

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

I didn't expect that ending. I so quickly identified with her, having endured the same kind of hell when I was a child. Like Emma, I found it safe inside my imaginative mind. Monsters don't always win, even if you're sure they have.
Thinking about the ending a little more, I may have taken it wrong. Perhaps life with the fairies, real or imagined, is a wonderful thing.

[Einstein Noodle]

hooked and held me ..love the faeries always; but Emma's were not so fine .. more like those the Irish hold as mischievous and even hostile .. your story accenting the "voices" .. both real and not .. in a turmoil that wrenches a child's soul. Hard enough for adults to deal with what is in our heads. This aspect of abuse is unique .. in my opinion. Its a perspective not taken .. one that is too important to ignore tho. .. in you story it was that mental conflict that drives Emma to her tragic death. well told says i! especially at the ending I saw the scene clearly ... looking back at the night, the poilice, the shouts and sounds .. and her turning and doing the unthinkable .. an innocent in grave need of release ... breaks my heart .. it is too often .. too real .. well done! bringing the awareness of abuse and its consequences to the fore .. in my opinion the public can never have had enough education and awareness of this ongoing criminality .. right next door >;/ thanks for sharing Ms. Serendip! :)
E.

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

Amazing story
So sad
At least she is at peace ✌️
Very ethereal