Real Boy

At first, I was disappointed with the magic. I felt no change. Nothing different. For a moment, I believed she failed on her promise. That she lied and I would stay the way I was out of spite. All of a sudden, there was this warm sensation throughout my body. As if my body was numb from sleep and finally waking up. Then, the overwhelming pain. It tingled like a million splinters, popping at once. She never warned me how much it would actually hurt. My chest heaved and my hands reached for my throat.

“Breathe,” I heard the blue fairy say, I gasped and I fell down on all fours on the cold ground. I choked as air filled my newly formed lungs. Every breath stung, so I tried to relax and take the longest breaths possible. My sides ached and my back snapped into place with something called a spine. I screamed and tore off my gloves. In horror, I watched skin crawl over what used to be wooden stumps of fingers that my father gave me. I felt each fingernail and toenail itch its way to the surface. I grabbed each body part as it formed, as if I was saving it somehow. I thought my eyes were going to burst from my skull. My lips stretched and the top of my head was on fire. My hair sprouted fast and I tried desperately not to pull at it. I wrapped my arms around myself as my wooded body was replaced with flesh and blood.

Eventually, the pain subsided and I was left naked, huddled under the table. I was shaking, whether from fear or from the cold breeze seeping through the cracked window.

The fairy smiled slightly and gave me an apology. I watched as she made a blanket appear out of nowhere and placed it over me. It was made of wool and scratched against my skin. It felt unpleasant, but it was warm. 

“I’m sorry,” she said again, “But if you had known the pain before…”

“I still would have done it,” I panted. Water formed on my forehead and dripped down my face. I could feel a hot buzzing that grew and bubbled under my new skin. I wasn’t sure why I was mad at her. I just wanted her gone, but at the same time, I didn’t want to be alone. Everything hurt but I knew eventually, the pain would go away. She told me it would and I trusted her enough. 

“Well. You are now a real boy,” she said to me. She waited for a reply, but when I said nothing, she bowed her head and disappeared in a blink of an eye. I laid there under the thick blanket with a shiver until a calming darkness took over me. My eyes closed and I dreamt.

I woke up the next morning before my father arrived. I stood and wiggled my toes in delight. My body was sore from the transformation, but it was worth it. I regret not thanking the fairy, but I had hope of seeing her again. I dressed myself with my old puppet clothes. I tugged at my shirt, but it rose above my belly and fit tighter than I remember. I left my pants unbuttoned and rolled up the bottoms into shorts. I didn’t have shoes, but I didn’t mind being barefoot. I enjoyed feeling with my feet.

I ran to the barrel of water out back. I studied my face in the water for a long time. It was strange not to see the dark circles of the tree bark that created my face. I tenderly touched my nose and said in a timid voice, “I am still a wooden puppet.” I backed away with closed eyes and waited for it to grow. My nose tingled for a moment. I blinked my eyes open and looked back into the water. A smile crossed over my lips as I realized my nose will never grow again.

“My father’s name is Mary!” I said louder. “I have three eyes!” I giggled after each lie, and every time, my nose would tingle but not grow.

“My dear Pinocchio,” my father said from the doorway, “What are you…” His words trailed off when he saw me. He squealed with joy and hobbled in my direction. I smiled and met him halfway. He dropped his cane and wrapped his arms around me. It was nice to feel this. I couldn’t before. I sniffed and felt my eyes water. 

“It’s a dream come true! My son; a real boy,” he said with a grin. “How did this happen?” 

“The blue fairy came last night.” 

He laughed and showered me with kisses. I snorted and tried to pull out of his grip. “What wonderful news! We must celebrate! We shall go to the market. I will buy you some new clothes and make a grand dinner for tonight.” I nodded and followed him back inside the house to get ready.

We walked down the street toward the center of town. I slapped my feet against the cold stone of the path with a wide grin. I ran my fingers against the cement walls. I giggled with the new sensation of feeling. My father held my hand with his cane in the other. We walked past a man selling ice cream. I licked my lips in anticipation.  

“Would you like one?” my father asked. I nodded. He handed the man a few coins and I reached out to grab the cup he offered me. “Don’t eat it too fast,” he warned. I loaded the spoon with a large mound and jammed it eagerly into my mouth. Almost instantly, I felt a pain on the roof of my mouth. The pain danced around my skull and settled behind my ears. The agony dulled with time and after a while, I shoved another cold spoonful in my mouth just to feel it again. 

My father patted me on the back. “Come along son,” he said, “And stay close to me.” The market was packed with people. Different merchants selling goods and wares from their booths. A horse pulled a cart full of barrels and wooden boxes. They trotted past and up the street. There was music and laughter in the air. The smell of fresh fish and cured meats lingered. We stopped in front of a merchant’s booth and looked at the clothes he had for sale. We picked out an outfit, a pair of brown pants and a blue shirt. He offered us shoes, but I refused. I enjoyed the earth under my feet. 

The merchant took our items and placed them into a bag for us. We thanked him and went to a few other booths, looking around and sampling things. The honey sticks were my favorite. Golden straws that left the skin of my fingers peeling apart from one another. Sweet and sticky.  

My father took a hand to his mustache and pulled at the corner. “Well, son,” he said, “Shall we head home? Pinocchio?” I looked over my shoulder and waved back at him. He had told me to stay close, but a toy stand stole my attention. I noticed the puppets first. It was a strange sensation to be staring at what I once was. Wooden dolls with string. Painted smiles and fake hair. I wondered if they knew the blue fairy.  

“Watch out!” someone shouted, “Runaway cart!” I looked up the hill and saw a man trying to control an anxious horse. I also noticed his large wooden cart heading right toward me. I froze.  

The cart rolled down the hill and slammed into me. I felt the crack of my ribs and my skin rip. I flew through the sky and landed hard on the dirt. I bounced and rolled to a stop. The cart continued until it crashed into a wall and broke into pieces. I couldn’t feel my left arm, but it was wrapped underneath me.  My leg was twisted and coated with red liquid. My breath was cut short and I struggled to find it again. 

“Pinocchio!” My father yelled. He dropped his cane and ran after me. I felt his arms wrap around me and he pulled me away from the wreckage. He stifled a sob and pressed his forehead to mine. “My dear Pinocchio…” he trailed off as tears ran down his cheeks. 

“Don’t worry, father,” I said, “I’ll be okay.” The last thing I felt was the tingle on my nose.