If Only to Dance with the FaeFolk

It must be another full moon, new moon, equinox, birth, death, successful bowel movement, or any given Tuesday’s witching hour. They’re in the Faerie Ring. Again. They’ll go to the Faerie Ring for anything. It’s like catnip to cats for them. They can’t get enough!

All they talk about is Faerie Ring this and Faerie Ring that. How cool it is inside the Faerie Ring.

“It’s just a stupid circle of fungus. Can’t be THAT great,” I think to myself as I sulk by hoping to go unnoticed.

Not my lucky night.

A handful of Fairies were beatboxing when Nixy noticed me. It’s looking pretty rough. It’s a pond Nymph anyway and they’re notoriously slimy. Amphibian-like. This one may have been away from water for a little too long. It shakes its little toad tail at me taunting about how great the Faerie Ring is and I can’t go in because I’ll be hexed. I’m not FaeFolk. Blah, blah, blah.

“...cunt…” I quietly whisper into the fog as I slog passed the inebriated Fairies.

The clique of Fairies that live around here are extra obnoxious.

The resident FaeFolk with Nixy being the local Nymph, the leader of this shit show, also includes a lively bunch of fairies. Fairies resemble moths to Sapiens, so it’s no surprise that they’ve only seen one a handful of times in their written histories. We don’t have any pixies residing around here. They prefer warmer climates. Sometimes one or two will pass through during the summer months. To be honest, they’re a little too stuck up to stay long at Nixy’s pond, anyway.

The nights are cool, foggy and damp. The days are sunny after the fog burns off leaving an all day chill to the air. It is prime Faerie Ring weather and they are popping up everywhere enticing previously respectable Fairies into their debauchery. The things I see them doing in there are downright shameful.

This circle over here with Nixy and her crew has been growing for almost a week now. They’ve found a reason to get in that ring every single night and daytime, too. They were almost spotted by a child the other day. I was watching. They all laughed like it was fun!

I live around the big cedar tree between their ring and the pond. I’m a Gnome. We’re part of the Troll family. Ogres, Trolls and Gnomes. We are good-natured souls on the inside. Among the purest in nature, really. It isn’t my fault I don’t naturally exude an overabundance of joy and wild antics. I like fun, too.

“They don’t have to be dicks about it... Still… They do seem to have a lot of fun in those rings. I wonder what it feels like?” I pondered as I took off my mossy cloak.

Everyone knows that FaeFolk are nocturnal, just like everyone knows not to join in the dance in a Faerie Ring. Which is why the raucous in the middle of the day is concerning. Clearly, the FaeFolk are still at it and they have company.

“What in the batshit, crazy motherfuckin’ shithole is that turd sucker doing?” I think out loud.

There is an elderly male Sapien dancing in the ring with the Fairies! I have never heard of such a thing happening. I’ve never seen a hex in action, affecting non-Fairy beings.

The elderly man is wearing blue jeans, a white shirt and red suspenders. His arms are above his head as he spins circles with the Fairies creating an intense rhythm. His hands begin to flow with Thai Chi grace and his slippered feet step with the beats. He’s smiling, swirling, twirling and looks to be genuinely enjoying himself.

I know this is not normal. Not normal one little bit. I’ve never seen the FaeFolk in the Faerie Ring chant and keep rhythm with such focused intensity before. I scurry up and around the tree to see if any more guests are coming by. Nope. It’s just the old guy.

Back on the ground the dancing continues. The man does not seem to tire. The day passes on and still he dances. Afternoon moves into evening and still he dances. He looks splendidly happy to be twirling about in that circle of mushrooms in the grass.

As the sun goes down, I begin to worry what may be in store for the man after dark. FaeFolk are most powerful at night in the glow of the moon. This concern is soon shown to be unfounded as a searching voice emerges in the distance.

The dancing continues, oblivious to the approaching newcomer.

“What are you doing?!” Shouts the heavyset woman Sapien rousing the man from his trance.

“This is the best. I’ve never… amaz...ing...happiness and energy…” he trails off incoherently and walks away with the woman.

I realize how tired I am. I lost a full day’s sleep because of their horseshit antics. The more I think about it, the more pissed off I become.

“What in the fucking fuckity-fuck demon moon bullshit was that creepy-as-fuck thing that just happened?!” My arms are waving about in an animated way towards the Fairies who are now licking the undersides of a couple beetles that wandered in.

“Fuck off, fugly,” Nixy dismissed. The others lazily waved me off with an obscene gesture and a synchronized flick of their moth wings.

I’m beat. I just want to find my worms and slugs for breakfast and hopefully make it back to my tree for an early bedtime before daylight. If those fucking fuckers would just shut the fuck up for a couple hours, tomorrow night might be more productive. Gnomes have shit to do. Existence isn't just a big party for all of us.

There’s that tune again. The same one from earlier! I sloppily slurp this nightcrawler and head back towards the Faerie Ring and my home tree. The man, minus his teeth, is inside the ring wearing a robe and the same slippers from earlier. He’s in the same state of joyous movements to the rhythms and chants of the Fairies.

“Mr. Wilson! What are you doing back out here at this hour? What has gotten into you? Back to the house. We’ll call your family tomorrow, okay?” The same woman, only more disheveled, gathers up the man and walks him back in the same direction as earlier.

The nightly fog has crept back in and settled over the pond. It seems the FaeFolk may be losing some of their energy as this night is the quietest since those damned rings started showing up.

That jingle even haunts me in my sleep. I’m perturbed by it all as I slowly realize the Fairy song is not in my dream. It is happening again.

I can’t help but look down at what the FaeFolk have going on this time. Sure enough, there’s that crazy old man back in the ring. It’s dark, damp and foggy and there he is, blissfully dancing away in that happy trance the Fairies' song puts him in.

It is still thick with fog as sirens pierce the early morning glow and the old man continues his graceful motions. The sirens stop but the sounds of the engines gets louder as many people emerge from the fog.

The woman from the day before is telling someone, “See! It’s got to be a new thing with his dementia. He keeps coming back to this spot and dancing like a lunatic.”

An ambulance pulls up near my cedar tree. Three people in matching jackets emerge and approach the man, trampling the unnoticed mushrooms on the ground. These are caring people who easily escort the man into the ambulance and drive away a few minutes later.

Once the Sapiens leave, Nixy and her enchanting choir begin moaning in agony over the destruction of their precious Faerie Ring. All day long they lay around and whine and complain about how bored they are. There's nothing to do.

Most of all, Nixy’s head hurts and she feels ill. Her amphibian slime is dry and flaky. Everyone knows how unhappy Nixy is when Nixy is unhappy.

I smile listening to her misery; thankful that I never actually made my way into the Faery Ring.