The Evanescent

Did you know that the average human life span is sixty-seven years? How sad, to live such a short, unhappy life.

“Phoebe, honey, come over here,” my father calls. His eyes are glued to the computer, much like everybody else’s in this household, and he’s tapping away at the keyboard.

“Yea, Dad,” I answer, throwing my magazine down and heaving myself towards him. “What?” I sigh.

“Can you look for the World Cup replays for me?” I nod and type the words in the search bar. The first time he ever asked me to look up something for him, I was completely terrified to be near so much metal and wiring and human. Now I’m used to it, but that doesn’t stop my fingers from tingling just a little bit at their tips.

“Thanks,” he murmurs as he sits back to enjoy the tournament.
I nod and flop back onto the couch.

“Phoebe,” a voice whispers. I jolt up and frantically spin my head around.

“What’s wrong, sis?” Samson asks, peering up at me from the ground where he's drawing silly pictures with Susanne.

“N-nothing,” I assure.

“Let’s take a walk,” Robin whispers into my ear.

“Daddy, I’m goin’ out!” I shout. My father doesn’t even pay attention. I slip my shoes on and rush out the doors.

“What do you want,” I snap, looking anywhere but where Robin probably is. He clears his throat and I turn around.

“I just wanted to take a walk,” he answers simply.

I scoff. “Right, and what else, kidnap me?”

“…Our little princess always was a clever one,” he mumbles. I take a step back and drown in darkness.



Yelling. Screaming. Shouting. Whatever synonym there is for loud, undistinguishable noises coming from a person’s mouth. Why can’t they all shut up? Why won’t they stop?

I blink and a gentle voice says, “Good morning, my child.” My back almost breaks in half as I sit up, immediately tuning into the voice.

“M-my queen?” Queen Titania smiles coldly at me.

“It has been a while since I’ve talked to you face to face, Sebille,” she says softly.

I gulp. “Yes, your highness.”

“Now,” she stands up, her gossamer gown swishing gently against her legs, “I didn’t want to take it as far as kidnapping you, but you and I both know that you are needed here. I do not understand why you would throw away your own people for those…beings.”

I have an answer. I have a retort. But I can’t bear to talk back to the queen. The queen who might turn me into an itty bitty bug if I try her patience.

“Yes,” I say as quietly as possible.

“Come,” she continues, “get up and get dressed. We are having a feast for your arrival. Oberon insists upon it.” She sneers at me, looking at me as if I was a disgusting piece of moldy bread. “I don’t see why he would care to,” she mumbles harshly. She leaves the room, magnificent and graceful, and yet she seems to leave behind an ugly aftertaste. I sigh and stand up.

I remember where I am. I fall back onto the bed, taken aback by my emotions. This was my room before I ran away. There on the windowsill is a precious quartz gift from Robin. And there, on top of my dresser, is a green and yellow dress, untouched from the last time I was here.

“Sebille.” I jump and turn towards the door, hand pressed tightly against my chest.

“Robin.” I can see him much better in the faerie realm. Although his edges waver a bit, he is there, alive and well. “You look well.” I take in his dark brown hair and shimmering, olive green eyes. Surprisingly, I notice that I’ve actually missed looking at him. I’ve missed being sure I knew where he was and I’ve missed touching him without worrying about what I’m touching. He comes up to me and places a slender hand on my shoulder.

“How are you?” he asks kindly.

I shrug. “Okay.”

“Well, hurry then. Oberon is waiting. And Sebille,” he says.

“Yes?”

“You’re still in your human form. You know that right? That you gave up everything to be human, and it’s no turning back.”

“Of course,” I answer reproachfully, “If I didn’t know that, I would have never made my decision all those years ago.”

“I know,” he whispers sadly. He turns and leaves the room. Leaving behind a more bitter aftertaste, but not as horrid as the queen’s.

I left my people not too long ago, but long enough in human years. Why? Because I met a family. I watched them through their windows and I smiled behind the curtains. They were humans, of course, and they were so different. So tender and loving and caring. Not pompous and light-hearted, but they were there for each other whenever they could be. And I wanted to be a part of that family. But I couldn’t. I wasn’t allowed. They wouldn’t let me into their hearts, so I found another. Not as loving and cheerful as them, but still a family. A family that was not mine. That’s all that mattered at the time, but it was such a bad idea. I acted before thinking, and before I knew it, I crossed over…and they let me in.

Once a faerie chooses to change, there is no going back. She will forever be what she chose to be. And I chose to be human. I poured my potions and chanted my prayers and worked my magic until, finally, I became a human daughter. It is hard to become human, because that essentially means that you turn into your creator, which is by all means off-limits. But I wanted so badly to find out what it was I could never have. But when my wish was fulfilled, it was then that I found out the true lives of humans. Not from the window where everything seems to be perfect, but from the other side of the glass where brothers sneered and picked at each other and parents hid their hate behind smiles to keep their children happy.

My new family accepted me. It may have been because of how lost the boys felt or how sad my parents were at losing their first child, but I never even needed to plant false memories into their head. They loved me and cherished me until they didn’t care anymore. After that, I was only a pawn of their future. A ticket to having a better life than what they had at the moment. They depended on me instead of me depending on them. But I was so desperate to have a human family that I accepted their indirect pleas and I took care of who I needed to take care of. From my brothers, whom my parents obviously thrust onto me, to my mother, who felt as if nobody loved her anymore, to my father, who, over the hard years and painful life, became cold and stoic to the perils of my family. My family almost became a burden to me, but I never regretted it. No, they taught me too much. I never regretted it, because my parents, too never regretted it.

Although I am miserable, I would still live my life as a human, than live this useless life as a faerie. A faerie who does not even understand what true love is.