The Past is a Foreign Country

Sensitive content:

• Violence
• Suicide

Izza and Mida fluttered up the towering wooden construct, busily chattering over the sound of their buzzing wings.

‘‘So he’s been going up their for months now?’’ Izza inquired in a high pitched voice that accentuated her delicate features. Her two large wings were a radiant teal that took on a silver gleam when they caught the light just right. She often positioned herself in such a way to make sure they did.

‘‘Every week, like clockwork…’’ Mida returned. ‘‘…he just sits there listening to the humans tell tales of old. I mean they’re amusing and all but even today, on Union Day? We can’t let him skip the Parade!’’

Mida’s voice overflowed with patriotic fervour, the right fist of his lower pair of arms slapping into his lower left palm with conviction, even mid-flight. Mida looked very handsome when speaking so earnestly - Izza thought looking at his face: evenly shaped lips parted in a smile, crystal blue eyes so captivating with their confident, eager gaze. For all that, she still couldn’t help but be annoyed. As much as she liked Mida's company, it would have been so much nicer to spend this time together at the Parade!

‘‘How does Farer even get up there with only one…ehmm..’’ Izza tried to make her voice sound compassionate, but it sounded unnatural even to her. Why did the old man feel like it was okay to cause everyone trouble? Yes he fought in a war, but this was so long ago. Everything has to have a limit somewhere. Being so weak and making everyone run in circles around him - ridiculous! Couldn’t he just be just a little more grateful?

Mida decided to ignore Izza's half question. ‘‘He should be at the very end of the shelf, early 20th century lit. Just past the Hemmingway’s. There should be a clearing in the rows of books. We can walk there once we get to the top.’’

Izza and Mida walked down the shelf flanked by the giant rows of books, carefully hidden from the humans surrounding them. Officials had marked the visible parts of the covers to denote the authors, functioning like road markers. An Administrator in her tell-tale pantsuit came tearing past them, her face a storm and her mood in an obvious uproar.

‘‘Looks like she found Farer before we did.’’ - quipped Izza.

‘‘Looks like she didn’t have much luck convincing him to come along.’’ - Mida might have said it with half a chuckle but he was well aware that his job just got harder if the Administrator had gotten the old man all riled up.

‘‘I still don’t understand why you’re so invested in getting Farer to come to the Unity Day Parade, if an Administrator couldn’t convince him why should we even try? Are you sure it's a good idea’’ - Izza ventured.

‘‘A good idea?’’ scoffed Mida, halting and folding all 4 of his arms over his puffed out chest. ‘‘It is our solemn duty!’’ He wasn’t sure how much he meant that. However, what Mida was sure of, is that in that very moment he was the spitting image of one of the heroes from the Unification War movies. Something any young Fae would secretly aspire to.

At that moment The Great Bell started tolling.

The sound rang through the room, loud and bright, heralding another human storytelling sessions. Mida wondered if it might not be worth exposing themselves to the humans just so they could prevent these annoying scheduling conflicts. Probably not.

When Izza and Mida rounded the corner of the huge Hemmingway hardcovers they instantly saw Farer. He was sitting on the edge of the shelf, in a clearing between the books. His legs dangled over the edge, and he was watching, waiting intently. As The Great Bell tolled and tolled a stream of humans entered excitedly and gathered in a semi-circle with their backs to their bookcase. The old man payed them no mind. It wasn’t until a larger human entered, an adult perhaps, and sat down on the floor facing the semi-circle that the Old Man perked up slightly. The Great Bell above the entryway slowly calmed.

The larger human carried an immense, colourful book, matching the burgundy ribbon in her hair. Quiet settled over the assembled crowd as she opened the book, pushed her large framed glasses up her nose and started to read aloud. She told a familiar tale, captivating her audience. It was about Fae and Fairies. About imagined differences, an animosity overcome, about seeing eye-to-eye with people and finding goodness and camaraderie where least expected. Great fun to the intended audience. Drivel to Mida and Izza. Heart breaking lies to the one who was there and witnessed first hand a reality that couldn't be more different to this little tale.

Farer wasn’t even that old, barely five centuries. But to his fellow Fae that made him ancient, a relic. Farer didn’t mind, he much preferred to be forgotten. Alas.

“Shouldn’t you be at the Parade?” - he asked, turning to face the unexpected company.

Now Farer was looking at Mida and Izza over his shoulder, legs dangling over the edge of the shelf. The sight of him made Izza uncomfortable. She tried not to stare, but the empty sleeve and the emptiness behind his left shoulder were eerily captivating. At that moment Izza knew, she wouldn’t be able to resist her morbid curiosity. Maybe she could look very quickly, maybe Farer would not notice. Her eyes darted to the malformaties and back to Farers eyes. He’d noticed.

“We were looking for you sir.” - said Mida respectfully 

“Why?” - Farer asked curtly.

“To bring you back of course!” - said Izza, regaining her composure and feeling the need to contribute to Mida’s efforts. As she spoke she skipped closer aided by her pattering wings - “We wanted to help you get back in time, so you wouldn’t miss a thing. After all, the Parade is in your honor.”

Farer didn’t see Izza’s face clearly, his mind fixating on her wings, gently swaying as she moved, catching the light..

The teal like the clear, early morning skies above the trenches, almost disconnected enough from the earth to seem peaceful. Then, a terrible screeching sound the likes Farer and his squad had never heard; it came from across no-man’s land, from behind the Fairy lines. Bright silver streaks filled the sky in such staggering numbers, that for a moment it appeared the very stars were throwing themselves at the Fae with cosmic fury. 

Farer only heard the first impacts, the screeches turned to thundering roars, the shock waves tearing their way through trenches and disoriented Fae. Farer didn’t remember how he was dragged towards the nearest dugout. The Fae next to him panicked and tried to fly away. For not keeping his head down, he got it blown off. Farer was lucky. When he was sent back to the lines a few days later he was only down an arm.

“There was not much honor in what I did” - replied Farer in a dull tone.

“Please do not diminish your role sir!” - cried Mida - “Who else but you, the veterans are we to thank for the peaceful times! Who else to hold as an example for ourselves!”

Farer had trouble hiding his disgust - ‘‘For examples you should look down there, their version seems much better.’’

‘‘Those silly fantasies?’’ Mida callously "You must be joking"

There must not have been many words on each page as the giant reading the story turned the pages at a pace. Over the captivated silence of the gathered crowd the rustling of the books leaves sounded to Farer like the beating of so many wing. 

And just like that he was back. On this particular day the Fae artillery had started up early. Farer knew what was coming by now. When his squad was ordered to grab their pixysticks and fix bayonets there could no longer be any doubt. 

‘‘Unfurl your wings boys, we’re going over in 10.’’ - boomed a gruff Sergeant Farer has never herd before. ‘‘We go fast, we go low, get in there and stick ‘em!’’

Farer took a couple of deep breaths, inhaled the sound of his comrades wings buzzing like angry hornets, and when the call came he charged over the top. Farer dodged and weaved, dipped and dove, hurling himself forwards as the world exploded around him. Something struck him and a searing pain erupted from his left shoulder blade. He spun and crashed right into the Fairy trench. One of them was coming at him, pixystick raised and bellowing like a madman. The Fairies weapon jammed. Farer acted out of instinct, he felt his own weapon muddy and slippery in his hands. He lept forward, thrusting the bayonet through the stomach of the charging Fairy. The Fairies wings twitched and then crumpled as his legs gave out from under him. A hysterical look of fear gripped the boys features. Then his face went slack and his eyes turned dull.

“What?” - Farer shook his head.

“I said you were an example for us!” - said Mida loudly with a wide smile.

Mida saw Farer wasn’t paying attention. The old man was distracted. And if he and Izza wanted to get somewhere, they needed to snap him out of it. All of this over some silly stories? - Mida thought.

“The story that you listen to… You do realize it is no more than human propaganda? They teach their young ones not to fight. Naturally, being so big, fighting between them would destroy the Ecumene and the Great Beyond. We, the Fae people and our enemies most importantly do not have this deterrent…”

“Still I wouldn’t trade being a Fae for anything” - Izza nodded proudly - “For all their power, these humans are made naive and unadapted by it. Lazy in the mind and body, prone to all sorts of weaknesses…” 

“Like pity?” - suggested Farer softly. He hadn’t realized he said it out loud until he heard Mida’s question.

“Pity.. for whom?” - Mida hesitantly asked.

He glanced at Izza, who looked back at him clearly dismayed. The old man couldn’t actually believe the humans propaganda was somehow right? That was impossible! But also was it? Missing the parade, and coming here every time these stories were read… It all added up to something inconceivable. 

“You do not say you actually pity the fairies?” - asked Izza carefully.

“And why not?” - said Farer his eyes suddenly shining with unexpected defiance. Finally he was fully present - “Why not pity the people who we attacked suddenly breaking all the treaties? Without a war declaration, or any other slightest sign of our intention?.”

“You have to think more critically” - Izza shook her head - “You have to look deeper. If we hadn’t attacked they surely would have done it first!”

“Ecumene was too small for our two peoples” - nodded Mida - “And by both right and providence, the Fae deserved to be.” 

And we were told everything fairies own is rightfully ours, and it was only fair to take it back. How stupid. - thought Farer - And this was enough for us to believe, for our hearts to rise with the righteous anger. He saw then in Mida and Izza the solidified consequences of his own actions. They are lost, already so very lost. Maybe even more than we were back then? - Farer thought

Ignorant of this Mida continued in his lecturing tone. Clearly proud of his historical acumen:

“The places they occupied… 

Their homes - thought Farer

“Were clearly underutilized. And how could it be different?” - Mida scoffed - “After all they were mere Fairies”

“They were people!” - shouted Farer. What will I achieve by this outburst? Will I convince anyone? Will anyone come back to life? Will I suddenly become somebody else? The answer to the last one was possibly yes. This was good enough, so Farer continued raising his voice even higher - “They lived their lives, raised their children, were happy! Cared for the future, made jams for the winter days, and hoped and laughed and worked hard and did their best, just like us! So where were they ever wrong?! I'm asking you, where!? And they did not attack in the end, did they? It was all us!”

Farer halted succumbing to a fit of coughing. He coughed for a good minute gripping at the fabric of his shirt above his chest and bowing down in quick convulsions. When he raised his head again, he looked at Mida and Izza. Perfect picture of all that is young, strong and so very healthy. The emptiness stared back at him from their beautiful eyes. At him, an old, crippled, deeply and irreparably damaged man, eaten alive by guilt. It was the future rejecting the past, for what use could come it? 

“You should go” - Farer’s raspy voice broke the silence - “Leave me be, I need to be alone. Please.”

Mida scoffed, Izza looked at him with an ‘I-told-you-so’ look and they both spread their wings and darted off, leaving Farer behind. Just in time for him to hear the big book close and the large human say: ‘‘And they lived happily ever after.’’

‘‘If only we'd let them’’ Farer wrapped his remaining wing around his torso and let his body limply slide from the edge of the top shelf.

The doorbell tolled again finally as the last of the stream of children exited. They left with their parents excitedly retelling the fairy tales they just heard. A book club for the youngest of the townspeople was Eduard’s idea and a very good one. It increased foot traffic which, considering the peculiarities of the store was a big deal. Eline had applauded the idea and turned out to have quite the knack for reading circles herself.

Something she didn’t like was the name, written in golden letters, in a vaguely gothic font on the shop window: Eduard and Eline. For Tales as Old as Time. It was too long and just sounded weird. I’m going to need to erase it and write something else as soon as I get the chance - thought Eline with mild irritation. Eduard saw this look from the corner of his eye and repressed a sigh; she’d changed the name twice already in the past month. He knew better than to argue though. Pick your battles and all that.

Suddenly Eline shuddered involuntarily. She turned sharply to the book cases. But saw nothing there. Only the tiniest specks of dust fell in circles, shining in the midday air.

“Is anything wrong?” - asked Eduard.

“I don’t know. Just now I had a feeling” - said Eline pensively - “I’m not sure, but I don’t like it. Like something awful just happened, like the last truths of a story being erased.’’