The Faeries

If you heard giddy high-pitched laughter, or giddy voices, you would probably think you were going mad, am I correct? And if you saw sparkling lights of tiny fires and shadows cast over them, you would think you’re imagination was going wild. Though what if I was to tell you that all of those things came from pixies, pixies with wings? Would you believe me? Of course not. You would think I was going mad, just as yourself. But what if I was telling the truth?

The tiny twigs in the fire burned with mighty brightness, casting a dangerous glare through the whole forest. These tiny beams could be seen for miles, though, but no one would ever follow them. No one with a mind, at least. And so this thought comforted Siren, as she sat watching the men merrily flying through the air, tiny thimble-like mugs filled with ale and Guinness weaved through their fingers.
The celebration was being held throughout the city of the faeries, because it was the beginning of the new millennium. ‘Twas already an hour past midnight, and the children had still not gone to sleep, but were bugging their elders rather annoying to tell them stories.
And as Siren sat on a small stone, she knew in fact that she had grown much to old for this, much to old to be scared of humans, people, mud-men. Though she couldn’t help worrying about what might happen when they finally discovered them, when finally, all hope was lost.
She felt someone behind her, hovering over her. Siren turned her head up to the blissful face of Twiddle Strom. Twiddle had long blonde hair, to his shoulders in fact, and was one of Siren’s best friends. “Ye look much like a human Peter Pan, if I may say.” Her Irish accent spilled heavily over her words, as she looked at his very green outfit.
Twiddle spun around and pulled her up into the air, her very own pink and green wings fluttering. “I’ve found something. A human.” No one else heard, though Siren’s pointed ears perked when she heard this. “Twiddle, I don’t think I should.” But Twiddle was already pulling her along, toward a small speck of light.
They flew swiftly and quickly, skimming branches and shooting out of the canopy of trees that blocked most of the moonlight. Twiddle and Siren had finally gotten to the speck, to find it was a roaring fire. There was a human woman leaned over it, deep in thought, reading a book. Siren gasped, and the woman’s head shot up, startled by the sudden noise. “Whose there?” She asked, and Twiddle gathered Siren in his arms, hoping that if they made themselves smaller, she wouldn’t see them.
But, Cara, having 20:10 vision, saw them immediately and snatched them from thin air. Twiddle bit her hand, and she threw them both to the ground. “Faeries…” She whispered, deep in thought. “Impossible… They only exist in myths, legends…” Cara stopped herself from saying fairy tales, because it might offend these little creatures. “What are you going to do to us?” Siren asked finally, when Cara had kneeled down on the floor to get a closer look at them.
“You speak, then, faerie. Ah, I shall bring you to the government, and get a gorgeous paycheck from this.” She smiled, but Twiddle held up his hands. “No!” He demanded. “Ye mustn’t, mustn’t do that! We have lived for thousands of years like this, and ye cannot just change it like that! Please, I’m begging of ye, we will give ye, we will give ye gold, anything!”
Cara rolled her eyes and looked away, deep in thought.
“Very well. I will let you go, but please, may I have something in return?” With that, each faerie stuffed a hand into their pockets (for the other ones were pinned to the ground by Cara) and gave her a small gold Celtic coin.
“My goodness! These are genuine Celtic 1658 currency! Why thank you, faeries!” And with that, she was gone.
And the faeries, well, Siren and Twiddle were gone too, hugging each other, and just glad to be alive.

So do you believe me now, or am I still insane? Still, there is a chance that faeries are out there, so I will never end my search. Good luck to ye, and have a wonderful Saint Patty’s Day!