Birdie

It isn't enough to say that Tinsley's words troubled me. I'm not sure why they unnerved me so much; I already knew he was mad. I guess that hearing someone else say it makes it more real to me. Or maybe it's the fact that she said Uncle Edwin was insane rather than just mad.

Is there really a difference between the two? I ask myself, but I can't determine an appropriate answer, so I just finish my meal in silence. It's not because I'm angry with Tinsley, it's just because there's nothing I can think of to say. Sadly, we finish the rest our meal in silence. When I finish I excuse myself and walk quickly out of the kitchen.

By now all of the fey have stopped dancing. Some still linger in the foyer conversing with each other, but other than that most of the fey have either gone to bed or back to work. I take a deep breath and look in the direction of my Uncle's workshop. I can hear the clanking of metal over the mumbling voices of faeries. Some part of me wonders exactly what he's doing in there. The other part remembers what Tinsley said and makes me not want to know. I feel a little flustered, not sure exactly whether to go upstairs or outside to get some air. I'm not sure why I'm taking this so hard, but I am. Maybe a goodnight’s sleep will help?

Suddenly, someone places his or her hand on my shoulder.

"Everything is okay, yes?" I turn to find one of the most unique faeries I have ever seen. He's tall, easily eight feet, with a slim build and perfect sized muscles -for faeries, at least- define his arms. He's tan, far tanner than any faerie I've ever laid eyes on. His skin has been perfectly modified by either his heritage or many years in the sun. His white eyes twinkle as he stares at me with concern.

"Uh, yes, I'm fine, Mr...."

"You can call me Anastas," he says, his accent thick and undetectable. His irises that appear to be a dark shade of white than the rest of his eye gleam at me again and he ruffles his half pink hair. Again, all I can think is; Faeries are fascinating creatures. "And sorry for being nosy, Miss, but you do not seem, as you say, 'fine.' "

"I," I pause and let my hand reach up to my head and scratch it. "Just feel a little preoccupied with my thoughts." He nods, his incredibly full lips curving into a handsome smile. It makes my heart swell slightly. Back in my small village, there weren't very many handsome boys to choose from. I'm not used to being around so many people, let alone beautiful people.

"Thoughts are...complicated things, yes? They can cloud ones mind, distract them from the world that's right in front of them." He smiles, his accent still thick. When he talks, his w's sound like v's and I try to think of where I've heard that accent before. For the first time since we've been talking, I finally notice what he's wearing. The top half of his chest is bare, but toward his torso fabric wraps around him, down his hips until it eventually turns into pants that cut off right below the knee. It must be a faerie sort of fashion.

"I guess that's a way to put it." I smile lightly and look around the room. All the faeries are gone by now which leaves just Anatas and me alone. He smiles again and finally it clicks; he's a fey of Russian decent. This strikes me as odd because only a few of the older faeries have accents of their native countries, which makes me wonder how old Anatas really is. I feel it would be rude to ask, so I just stare in the direction of the bookshelf. I guess he noticed because he says, "You like books?"

A bright smile crosses my cheeks. "Yes!"

Anatas must have thought my reaction to his question to be quite hilarious because he throws his head back in a soft laughter. When he's done he looks down at me, which causes me to look up at him -which is a little awkward since he's a good three feet taller than myself. "I shall show you to the library?"

"Uh, maybe tomorrow," I admit. I look over at the clock and see that it's well past nine o'clock. It's getting late and I feel tired after having to get up early to even arrive here. "I think I'll be going to bed for the night."

"That is very fine, Miss Deerly. Goodnight and pleasant dreams," he blinks and his eyes twinkle again.

"You as well, Anatas." I nod at him and turn to the stairs, heading up to my room. As soon as the door opens that feeling of unwelcome floods through me. It's as if eyes are upon me, but no one is there. I bite my lip and try to shake the feeling off as I change for bed. When I'm finished changing, I crawl underneath the cool blankets and shut my eyes. It does little for that feeling to go away, but it does help me fall into an uneasy sleep.



In the dream, I am in a pink sundress that flows out behind me as I exit the doors of Uncle Edwin's home. My bare feet brush against grass that had been trimmed recently and looks greener than it had when I'd arrived here. I look up and even the sky is clearer, bluer, and so much more reachable. Instead of heading toward the road like I wanted, my body turned and headed toward the forest.

When I finally reach the tree line, I can feel something warming my skin; like an extra sun that was spreading warmth through not only the land but my body as well. The feeling is bubbly and irresistible and I want more. I break through the first layer of trees and begin to wander through the woods. Deer saunter up to me, their eyes wide and black as if they plead for me not to go any farther. Nothing can keep me away from this feeling, however, so I press forward.

It's not long before I hear the soft sound of water rushing over rocks. I close my eyes and take a listen; there are noises all around me. Bugs hum in my ears and the breeze sways my dress and the grass around me. What's that? I ask myself as the familiar sound of laughter rings out against the warm wind. I turn toward the noise and run, my body feeling the urge to be part of whatever is so fun. I trip several times, thorn bushes tearing at my skin, dress, and hair. By the time I enter a large clearing I'm covered in dirt and tiny trickles of blood run down my legs, but I honestly don't care.

The clearing in itself is a wonder. The sun is shining but the fact that I can stare straight at it and not go blind lets me know that it's been conjured, not real. A meadow stretches out over an expansive patch of land, covered in flowers of various shapes and sizes. The flowers move around in a breeze I can no longer feel, but as they rustle, I can see something else about them; they're made entirely of paper. To the left, the meadow extends until it’s on top of a small cliff that over looks the stream of crystal clear water that surrounds this whole area. On top of the cliff is a white Grand Piano, where both a man and a young girl sit at its bench, pressing their fingers down on the keys. The man's music is beautiful and enticing; the child's is sloppy but in a way that makes the young girl seem adorable.

My feet are already moving toward the pair before I even have time to think of any other option. When I'm within hearing distance I stop because I feel like I may intrude on something I'm not supposed to. Oddly enough, I strain my ears and try to pick up their conversation. "Daddy, when will Mommy be home?"

"Soon enough. Just in time for dinner." Though their backs are to me, I can still tell that the little girl is smiling. This girl already reminds me so much of myself in my own youth that I take a moment to smile to myself. Suddenly, the man continues to speak, "Why do you want her home so quickly?" He laughs, his comments jokingly. "Are you bored of me already?"

The child shakes her head quickly and exclaims, "I could never get bored of you, Daddy!"

"Good, now how about we head back to the house?" As I'm listening to the silky sound of his voice it occurs to me that I've heard this voice before. Not very often, but I have. Without knowing if it's him or not, I take more steps toward the piano. It's obvious they can't see or hear me, so I move around to the front of the piano and study his face. Pale skin with only the tiniest hint of pigment. Short, curly brown hair and a soft tuft of chin hair. The only thing different is that his green eyes are focused. This man is my Uncle Edwin.

"Can't we stay just a little bit longer?" This time I take time to look over the girl. She shares his features; pale skin, long brown hair that looks almost black, and emerald green eyes. There's something else about her but I can't exactly tell what. Uncle Edwin nods and returns to playing a beautiful melody. His fingers are pale and clean, not covered in rust and calluses. This is before he started inventing, before he went insane, I think to myself.

"You should play piano for a job," says the girl a little glumly. Uncle Edwin turns his head to her, but does not stop playing. He smiles politely.

"Baby girl, I wish I could." This apparently does not satisfy the girl because she crosses her arms against her chest and pouts.

"Why can't you?" She asks. My Uncle then stops playing, takes a deep breath, and looks the child deep in the eyes. He takes her tiny hand in his and squeezes gently.

"Elena, you'll find that this nation is a cruel place for grown-ups. We have to do whatever we can to make the most money, to live in the best house, to have the best food for dinner. We have to leave all of our dreams behind and grow up as soon as this world tells us too. We have no say in our lives, in this nation, or in our own thoughts. We must conform to what others are doing and do it. There are no options."

Elena is about to speak, but he cuts her off.

"You may not know it, Elena; it may not even be you, but one day, somewhere, the world will come crashing down on some poor girl's head and she won't be able to control it. The sky may fall down on her shoulders and that will be out of her control; all she can decide is when to get out of it's path."

His words haunt my thoughts as I slowly drift back into consciousness.



I open my eyes just as Tinsley pulls the curtains on my windows back, letting the light flow in. I'm puzzled by what the dream means or if it had any significance at all, but suddenly another problem comes to my mind. Tinsley is about to leave, eyes on the floor as she walks. "Tinsley, wait."

She stops right in front of the door, tucking her straightened white hair behind her ear and then looks me over. I wish I could have eyes as pretty as hers; a dark gold surrounding her pupil that branches out into a softer, dandelion yellow color. I smile at her, to let her know I'm trying to be friendly. She must think that she upset me last night, which isn't entirely false, but it isn't like she thinks it is. I overreacted to something I had already known; but hadn't realized its full extent.

"I'm sorry," I say softly. "I overreacted."

"No, there is no need to be sorry! I should not have been discussing Master Edwin like that. It was unprofessional." I try to think of some way where it'd be so that she'd have to forgive me and not the other way around. Unfortunately I can't come up with anything.

"Let's just agree to forget about it, okay?" She nods quickly, a pleasant smile coming to her face. She tells me to wait for only a moment and she exits the room, coming back with a beautiful blue dress on her arm. Its dark blue material is covered in shiny silver sequins all the way to the start of the end where it fans out into bright blue, jagged edges. It's more dazzling and attractive than beautiful. A party dress rather than the type of dress you'd wear casually. "Master Edwin wants you to look your best today. He has someone for you to meet."

"Okay," I say shyly and she leads me to the dressing room where the faeries once again dress me and do my hair. This time I fill out the dress perfectly and I feel very sassy wearing it. They've put the back of my hair in a neatly tucked-in bun and let the hair on the sides of my head be curled and let them hang down. My bangs however, are straightened and pinned to the left side of my head. It's rather unusual, but I like it. When they’re done getting me ready, Tinsley takes me by the wrist and leads me out of my room and down the spiral staircase.

Once we're at the bottom I scan the faeries that rush by for Anastas, but I can't find him. I sigh and let Tinsley take me to the wooden door. Just like yesterday, she only taps the door with her knuckles three times and the door swings open by itself. The faery girl turns and leaves me, smiling as she goes. I enter the room cautiously, eyeing my Uncle as he fidgets with another one of his metal contraptions, his back to me. A pair of eyes do meet mine however.

A faery boy about my age sits in a large cushioned chair. His hair is the color of ash, a shining silver that looks like it could just fall and break away from his scalp. His eyes are a sharp lavender color, though that's not what keeps me staring at his eyes; it's the fact that he won't look away.