Talented

 No one really knows how our kingdom came to be. It was obviously created somehow, but we’ve never found that out.

It’s not like a fanciful kingdom you can picture. Cotton candy clouds, unicorns, CandyLand-type. No, ours is so different. It’s not what you would picture. 

It’s beautiful. A masterpiece. 

We live way up here in the atmosphere. Mingling with the clouds, socializing with the birds, stargazing, and getting the warmth from the sun’s rays. 

I can't really tell you where we are exactly. The humans live down below us. God reigns above us. We reside in the middle.

I’m about to tell you who we are⎯who I am. You may start to roll your eyes, especially if you, who is the reader, are a male.

We are pixies. 

Wait! Don’t stop reading! You see, we’re not the kind of cutesy pixies you’d imagine, and we’re not elves. 

We have a part of controlling the elements. The rain, wind, harvest and light particularly. You see, when we turn the age of eight, we get “chosen” to do the job we will have to stick with for our whole. Single. Lousy. Lives. One job!  Is it just me, or do you think you will get bored with that job after nine years? Yeah, by now I am. For me, my Dad, and my brother we were “gifted” with the same talent: making the rain. 

We do this by sucking up the liquid from the clouds, using homemade vacuums. Then we form the water we have collected into tiny ball-like shapes, find the right moment to send them, then let ‘em fly, laughing as we score one onto some human’s head. 

We⎯

“Camille! Come on! Let’s go!” 

My older brother flings open the door and throws  the shades open, making the sun’s rays blind me. 

“Lev! What is wrong with you?” I groan. “You’re interrupting what I was saying.”

He looks around the room. “You’re a psycho, there’s no one here. C’mon,” Dad says. “We’ve got a rain cloud on the horizon that’s gonna need us. So, up and at ‘em.”

I roll over in bed, and hop up. I walk over to Lev and shove him on the back of the head. 

“That was for waking me up, you psycho.”

“Y’know...I deserved that. Let’s go, Sis.” 

Mom and Fay are downstairs pouring tea into acorn cups. Mom flys over and kisses me. 

“Big day, Sweetheart! Eat up!” 

I sigh. “How come Fay doesn't need to make rain?”

Mom arches her eyebrows over the rims of her glasses. “We’ve been over this so many times, Cam!  Making rain is not her job! Your sister harnesses the breeze. Now hurry along. You don't want to be late...again.” She reaches into the sack kept in her apron, and sprinkles a handful of pixie dust, making my wings come to life, zipping me out the door. I sigh and fly into the center of our town. 

 “Goodmorning, Cam!” Someone calls.

“How’s it goin’, Camille?” 

“Stop wearin’ that frown! It’s not pretty on ya, Cam!” 

“Have some sunflower seeds, Child!” A harvest fairy hands me a sack of seeds. I snatch it, mumble a thanks and continue on my way at a snail’s pace. 

“Hey, Camille!”

“Catch ya around, Cam?” 

“Wanna go out sometime, Camille?” 

I look up in disgust at Xavier, Lev’s best friend. 

“Say what?”

“So will you?” He impatiently hovers. 

“Eeew, no! Move!” I push away and continue on. 

“So you’ll think about it? I’ll call you!” He shouts as I fly further away.

I roll my eyes. Xavier asks me every day with no rest. When will he get the picture? 

“You’re late.” 

I look into Mr. Dewey’s eyes. He’s my boss.

I have to stop my eyes from going into another eyeroll. I have a habit of doing that. 

“You missed several rain clouds,” He continues. “It’s the fourth time this week that you’ve slacked off. You really need to start taking your job seriously!” 

I cross my arms and sigh.

“I know, I know,” I respond.

Mr. Dewey shakes his graying head. “There will have to be a pay decline if you keep this habit of tardiness.” 

“Camille,” Dad says, stepping out from the crowd. “Why is this going on? This lack of enthusiasm toward work? Don't you enjoy your job?”

“No!” I snap to his surprise. “Being a rain-maker sucks!” 

Everyone gasps. Dad looks shocked. Lev sadly shakes his head, most likely thinking “I'm not related to her...at all!”

I realize I went too far. Afterall, most people actually enjoy their job being a rain-maker. 

 “You were given the gift you have to create rain like your brother and I. It’s a very special gift.”

“Why wasn't I given something else?” I demand. “Harvest, wind, light. Why rain? This is not my job!”

“You were given what you have for a reason, Camille,” Dad says. 

“I’m not happy with it.” I scowl. 

“Then leave.”

His words jolt me. Dad doesn't get mad a lot. He never yells. Never shouts. But just now, the force of the words stun me. They stun everyone else. Lev turns his face away. 

“Dad I⎯”

“Leave.”

I step backwards, nod, and fly away sadly. 

Dad is disappointed in me. 

He is mad. 

“Hey, Camille!” 

“Heading back so soon?”

“What up, Cam?”

“Do you wanna⎯”

I push Xavier away. “Don't even think about it.”

I fly away. Away from my home. Away from my father and mother and siblings. Away from everything. After a while I grow exhausted from endless hours of flying. I don't know how high up I am. I don't know where I am. I stop and lay down on a cloud.  The stars and moon are shining. The air is getting colder, signaling night is upon me. It is dangerous for fairies to be out after night. 

Night is when your pixie dust supply runs out, and leaves you falling and falling with no control until you went Splat! onto a human windshield. Night is when owls hunt. Night is when airplanes run you over because you can't see them coming. 

Night is all around dangerous. 

I am afraid, I admit. I wish for a cup of Mom’s steamy camomile tea. Hair-braiding sessions with Fay. Wrestling tournaments with Lev. Warm, strong hugs with Dad. 

I don't know why, but hot tears start cascading down my cheeks, making them so raw they sting. They keep flowing. Why do I have to blow up like that? Why can't I just be a normal fairy who is content with her job, and happy to do it for the rest of her life? Why do I have to be a rebel?

“Camille.”

The voice is so quiet, but still, I hear it.  It is mysterious and comforting. It makes me feel safe, even though how can you feel safe after a whackadoo just spoke to you?

“Camille.”

It came again. 

“Who are you?” I look around, drying my tears for fear that “it” would see a grown girl crying. 

“Camille.”

“Why do you keep saying my name? How do you know my name? What do you want? Who are you?”

“You are running,” The voice says.

I try to laugh. “Ha-ha! No!” I don't know why, but I feel as if I can't lie to this voice. “I am running.”

“From what?”

It seems so wise, like it knows everything. I wouldn't doubt it does.

“From my family--my dad. From what I’m supposed to do. My duty. From Myself.”

“Ahh, I see.” The voice chuckles very deeply, and I think I am talking to a male. “Why, Camille?”

I sigh and pick at wisps of cloud underneath me. 

“Us fairies are given one job for our whole lives. I look around and it seems like everyone enjoys their one job, but me! Lev, my brother, has been a rain-maker for 11 years, and Dad, for 48 years! I’ve only been at it for 9 years, but already I’m tired of it! Why are we only given one talent that we must focus on for our whole lives?”

“You have been given many, many talents, Child,” He says. “Have you tried any other things you fairies do?”

I shake my head. “I’ve been told that you only have one talent.”

“Oh, but you have many. Have you tried making the breeze? Have you tried harvesting?”

“No.”

“You have many talents, Camille, you just do not know it. I have blessed  you with so many for such a time as this.”

“You?”

“Yes. Go, child. Be proud of what you have been given.”

“Wait, does my family and friends have multiple talents that I possess?”

He chuckles again. “No, now go. Go home. Your family is waiting for you.”

I stand up and look upward. “Who am I speaking to?”

There’s a pause, and then suddenly the voice utters one last sentence:

“I am.”

I am? I AM! I was speaking to God! Holy smokes! I’m talking to The God who made me! Me!

I fly downwards, soaring in excitement. I have multiple talents! Wait, how do I know what talents I have? I halt and see a moon beam. Taking a deep breath, I move my fingers through it, causing it to bounce off certain things. I was bending light! A breeze whipps  through my hair and I catch it, shooting it in the direction of the leaves. They rustled. I was controlling the wind! I focused on the sunflowers, the berries, the nuts, and as I watch, open-mouth, they uproot and dance around me. I was controlling the harvest!

Our hut is the only one that still has it's lights on. As I fly near, I see my family sitting in the living room. Dad is pacing. Lev is nervously running his slender fingers through his sandy hair over and over. Mom is sitting in a chair looking concerned. Fay is gulping down cup after cup of tea.

“Here goes nothing,” I mumble, knocking on the door. I don't know why I’m knocking on my own door, but I feel as if I should. It swings open. Dad is standing there.

I open my mouth to confess that I was a horrible daughter, but he suddenly wraps me into the tightest hug I have ever experienced. 

“Cam, my dear,” he says, his words muffled by being buried in my hair. “When I said to leave, I didn't mean run away, I meant leave and go home!” He laughs.

“We were so worried,” Mom adds, coming over and joining in on the hug. Fay and Lev join too. 

“I met someone!” I say. “Well, not met, met someone. I talked to someone. I found out I have other talents!” I demonstrate my other abilities to their amazement. 

“That's incredible, Sweetie!” Mom says.

“Dad,” I say turning to him, “I’m really sorry that I said being a rain-maker sucks. It really is a great job, and I shouldn't have put it down. Will you forgive me?”

“Yes, my Dear,” Dad says. “I know after a few years of working at the same job, that it grows tiring for a young girl.”

I roll my eyes. “Dad, I’m 17!”

He laughs. “I get bored every so often myself.”

“Oh, yeah, same, Man!” Lev adds, nearly falling out of his chair to add to the conversation. Fay, being a wind-harnesser, throws a breeze through his hair that drives him stir crazy because of his obsession with his hair. 

“Fay, do you ever get annoyed and tired of only making breezes and wind?” I ask.

She nods, and then signs, because she’s mute, “Yes...alot...of...times...I...mostly...find...all...my...enjoyment...torturing...Lev…here.” 

To prove her point, she almost blows him over.

“Not the hair! Oh please, not that hair!” He screams.

“The point is,” Mom says, “you do what makes you happy. And if switching a job from being a rain-maker to whatever you choose, your father and I⎯”

“And me!” Lev butts in again, cowering behind a chair from Fay’s breezes.

“Me...as...well,” Fay signs.

“⎯and everyone,” Mom adds,” will be there to support you. Okay?”

“Definitely,” I agree. 

“Oh, and one more thing,” Dad says. “Did you find out if any of us have other talents?!” 

We all laugh.

Camille