Pomposity

I used to be held in high regard by humans in the past. They possessed the knowledge to stay away from fairy circles and clearly understood that mysterious entities dwelled in the shadows. Their transformation into these ignorant brutes, who live without dread of the supernatural and with contentment for existence, is beyond my understanding. 

They are much sturdier now and don’t fall over dead from a simple cold; they have vast amounts of entertainment, and they eat every single day. People made things even more dreadful with their intense desire to be taken by the Fae. They daydream about charming, mystical princes who will liberate them from their ordinary existence, allowing them to live joyfully forever. I blame Disney and bored housewives.

See, it’s easier to strike deals when people want something—easier to get them to trust and do as you say. The Romans willingly supplied bread and circuses to keep the masses content and well-fed. Even after two millennia, it’s astonishing how many carbs an average Roman ate each day. A distracted society makes it more difficult to lure and play, though we managed to cavort quite a bit considering Rome wasn't exactly paradise for everyone. Veni, vidi, vici.

Finally, the dark ages descended, and what a golden age that was! Oh, the deals I made and the simpletons I tricked! The Fae realm was brimming with buffoons who wandered right in and might as well have shackled themselves for us. Now, I can sit at any crossroad, once bustling hubs of human dealings, decaying in solitude. Not a soul approaches to forge a deal.

I perused the self-help section in the local bookstore. No, not yours. We have cities, entertainment, and food, as you are aware. Or maybe you aren’t. There was a time when everyone knew not to eat our fare, but it seems you’ve forgotten. Recently, I caught a rather oblivious and robust fellow while crossing Broadway on his way to Elm by conjuring a pizza box right in front of him. He almost tripped over it. I observed as he stooped down, grabbed the box, opened it on the spot, gave a nonchalant shrug, and helped himself to a slice.

Suddenly, he teleported to my bungalow in Faedom, but rather than being a compliant servant, he demanded fair compensation and ranted about unions, workers’ rights, and the flaws of trickle-down economics, in which he claimed the trickle part was a steady stream of piss. Charming, I know.

But I digress.

As I was saying, I browsed books in the self-help section at our local book nook, but none seemed relevant to my situation until I spotted “A Brave New World: A Fae Guide To How Humans Screwed Everything Up and How to Circumvent Their Folly.” The Table of Contents caught my attention with chapters like A Brief History of Human Enchantment, How to Attract the Right Human for You, When Glamour Isn’t Enough in a Plastic World, and The Real Secret: Humans Suck.

I cradled my latest acquisition in the crook of my arm and approached the counter to pay. The plump hag, surrounded by a haphazard stack of books, greeted me with a toothy smile—though in her case, ‘toothy’ meant having just a single tooth. I watched her suck on it as she shuffled through the stack of books, her gnarled fingers tracing the spines as if seeking a hidden treasure. Her eyes, clouded by time, lifted, and she offered another smile.

With a rasping voice that crackled like ancient parchment, she croaked, “I’ll just be another moment. Help yourself to a cookie.” I eyed a plate of maggot-infested hunks of dubious cuisine, gave a small smile, and quickly declined. With the desired book located, the hag placed it to the side, then reached out for my purchase. “Payment, dearie. What’s your currency? Coin or secret?” 

“Coin, thank you.” I smiled pleasantly, or at least with more visible teeth than shown to me, and handed her enough golden coins to cover my fee. I watched as she bit into each one without taking her eyes off of me for even a moment, and I turned on my heel as soon as her grunt of approval rang out. 

“Come again, dearie!”

Humans used to notice us a lot easier. Of course, they believed in us and knew what to look for. Over time, they replaced their myths grounded in reality with fresh narratives that diverted their attention, failing to observe as I leapt and danced across universes, traversing one to another with every stride. In Faedom, where moonlight wove spells through archaic forests, I glimmered magnificently into view before taking my next step and entering the human realm. 

45th Street—ordinary and mundane—held its own stories. There, lovers quarreled over pricy cups of coffee. With another hop on my next step forward, I inadvertently kicked a dwarf who was collecting mushrooms. “Apologies!” I called and bounced onward. Cafes multiplied like fractals—portals to caffeinated oblivion. People gathered; their energy fueled by freshly roasted bean juice and gossip. Why is there a coffeehouse every thirty steps? How many do they truly need? 

So I flitted—a creature between realms—sipping on society’s collective buzz. The plump hag with her single tooth would have nodded knowingly if she could read my thoughts. “Ah,” she’d say, “another universe, another brew.” She would absolutely be the poetic sort, I’m certain, as she lived in a world of books. I would nod back at her and romp away, leaving accidental kicks and forgotten tales in my wake. 

In hardly any time at all, I found myself perched atop the crags. A fairy, a dryad, a pixie, and a dragon walk into a bar—stop me if you’ve heard this one. We chose a cozy spot, right across from a mermaid who was grooming herself as though she were about to be featured on a movie poster.

     “Calypsa, who are you posing for?” Nixie asked—she’s a pixie, a pixie named Nixie—and Calypsa whipped her head around to glare. 

“I’m not striking a pose. I was simply born with such breathtaking beauty that all my actions seem as if they’re orchestrated by a choreographer.”

     Calypsa is a narcissist by human standards, yet among the Fae, she is perfectly normal, if you could call our kind normal in comparison. Humans possess an odd appreciation for humility and seem to relish self-punishment more than we could ever take pleasure in subjugating them, peculiar masochists. The Fae prefer to celebrate exactly how fabulous we are. Mortals should be grateful that we’ve been infusing this mindset into the human population via selfies and every ‘yas girl’ uttered by a random Girl Boss.

     “Alright then,” I piped in. “Who wants to start this week?”

Juniper, the slim dryad draped in diamonds, cleared her throat. “As you know, I have found it effortless to break into acting. That’s why over half of Hollywood is some type of dryad or nymph. We just have ‘that look’ that humans seem to love. Of course, I’ve been able to use my fame, though not my personal fortune—that’s what fans are for—to protect my sisters in the wetlands.”

Pepper, the dragon, clapped her paws politely, and Nixie fluttered up to be heard easier. “This week, I took into consideration what you said last week. Though I be but small, I am mighty. So I’ve taken up starting fires to keep the fire department frantic and exhausted.”

“Well, that’s certainly the spirit. But do you think this is as far as you can go with your development in these new times? How will it contribute to our influence when humans inevitably bring about the downfall of civilization and have to begin anew? Again. It will be what, the fifth time? Sixth?”

I saw her edges beginning to blur a little as her wings tripled their speed and her eyes narrowed, so I quickly added, “Naturally, this has been a remarkable advancement, demonstrating highly inventive thought that I’m sure you can expand upon.”

Her wings calmed as she settled in on her little slope, and Calypsa emerged from a quick dip to prop herself up on a nearby rock, coiling her vibrant tail around the stone. “I’ve only eaten three humans this week, and they were losers, so it hardly even matters that they’re gone.” I must admit, she appeared quite persuasive as she flung her aquamarine hair over her shoulder and scrutinized her alarmingly elongated talons.

“And this is helpful for your influence as a representative of the merfolk—how?”

It was obvious I annoyed her, as she allowed her rows of fangs to grow long and grotesque while she eyed me as dessert, so I continued. “I’m merely asking you to elaborate on your thought process, nothing more.” I held my hands up in front of me and looked as innocent as possible. 

“Well, if you must know, I allowed their surfer friends to escape each time, and that’s how our legend continues to live on. Somewhat.”

I nodded with admiration as the rest clapped. “Maybe don’t eat anymore for a few weeks so you can maintain an aura of uncertainty in humans. They love to dismiss what they don’t understand, so reminders every so often will leave them feeling unbalanced.”

“That’s total whale shit!” she yelled back over an indignant undulation of her glittering tail before disappearing under the surface. Our applause grew louder at the sight; we truly adore dramatic departures.

Pepper and I each took a turn before concluding the meeting and going our separate ways. We will continue to convene weekly to explore strategies for maintaining relevance in a society that has transformed our existence into entertainment, often misrepresented in literature and film. It might even work, though I’ve begun believing this is all stemming from boredom. It is often said that the Fae are capricious, even in the absence of wings. I say that’s poppycock, considering the entire world is mercurial. We are part of nature, after all.

Clearly, the reset of the planet is imminent, and Faedom will observe from beyond our fluid borders, patiently waiting for the time when we can once again dominate your species and fill our domain with your far-off progeny. Descendants who will carry out our menial tasks without insisting on taking every weekend off to “play video games with my boys.”

In the meantime, could we consider constructing establishments other than coffee shops? I’m also available to correct your misguided beliefs about the magical realms. Additionally, it might be wise to avoid the oceans for a while, if you’re prudent at all. It seems Calypsa often experiences strong cravings. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.