Not really

They got him before he could take flight

They tore off the wings

Tearing from the bone

Leaving only bloody scapulas

His father is long gone

He left him in the tower

Alone.

Icarus no longer has wings

To fly away

He can only close his eyes

Feel the wind

His mind goes away but for a moment

Because he falls every time

He doesn't know that on his back

His wings are growing

He doesn't see them

They look transparent

Like a dragonfly's

He does not know because

he always looks forward

At the people who butchered him

And he cries.

He could fly away any moment

But he doesn't know

You have to look at them with love, squinting as they do.

You have to talk sweetly and know when and if to kiss them

You have to give your forehead for a bump, give your chin for a nuzzle and your ears for their purrs. Give your face to them and let their whiskers touch your nose.

Pet, scratch, your hands are for them and your elbows are for letting their scent all over.

Let them rest on your knees and walk to them when they need you.

My mom thought they were just mice but we never found any proof, like smell or droppings. Something was inside the wall, I just knew that, nothing scary or dangerous, a little mischievous maybe. I tried many times to put my eye over the hole, to shine a light inside it but it was just too small.

One time I read that fairies like treasures but i didn't have any of course, so I painstakingly painted a rice grain gold and left it under my bed. It disappeared at some point, but mom said that it was probably picked up by the vacuum cleaner. I thought so too, sadly, but at the same time I didn't have any nightmares from that day on, at least until I lived under that roof.

When my grandma passed, we had to sell the house because it was too big for just two people so mom decided to renovate it first: one of the changes was taking down the drywall to make one big bedroom so I started working at it myself with a hammer to save some money.

I stared at the hole and then, trying to be as delicate as possible, I hammered all around it, taking a chunk of the drywall with it. Then, I just picked it up and put it safely at the other side of the room and slowly worked days on end to get that wall down.

I haven't thought about the fairies much after that: new house, new school, new friends... Everything was taking up a lot of space in my mind.

But one day. One day I got back from work and noticed something new in my apartment: a teeny tiny hole in the drywall of my bedroom.

he said to me, looking up with big, wet eyes. His pupils where like ink spilled, shifting, trembling, running. A constant tremor shook his limbs and hands like spider legs grasped one another with so much force that blood escaped them.

I put a hand on his shoulder to keep it in place but my thumb was so close to his neck i felt the smooth skin and his accelerated heartbeat.

"My dear boy. What do you mean? What did you summon?

"We... don't..."

My grip tightened, his eyes became even bigger. But whatever was beyond the inky blackness pouring through the door was still scarier than me. It was unacceptable.

"If you tell me i could help you, boy. I'm not mad." He sighed, i squeezed. "Yet."

"I don't know, Father! We found your Book and... tried..."

"Why?"

"Father, I... we know we shouldn't have but your study was open, the Book on the floor... I tought... i tought we could control watever came, but..."

"What does it want?"

"He already got the others, now it... it wants me..." His voice faded is a whisper, air escaping his lungs: he had looked me in the eyes and saw what was in them. He was finally scared of me. I smiled like a knife.

He was so thin it didn't take much to push him into the room and close the door. And then keep it closed. The noises coming from inside were muffled, like they came from thick velvet. Screams, pleads, bangs, scratches... silence.

When I entered, the room was pristine, except for my book laying face down on the floor. Five new screaming faces adorned the spine. I sighed "Five promising ones all gone in a fell swoop!"

Slowly, i returned to my study and opened the panel behind my desk: the tubes where bubbling and three black masses all turned their bulbous heads towards me.

Why did you give me this blessing?

Ideas are always buzzing like bees:

Worlds, stories, people and dreams.

But why did you give me this curse?

Ideas are always stinging like bees:

I hate this burden, I just want peace.

But that faint buzzing sound

The voice on the phone is fuzzy, distant, extremely calm and professional. I don't panic, i guess whomever it is knows their deal.

While i wait, i calmly change from my pajamas and put the kettle on the stove for a quick tea: the kitchen is cold, like all of my almost empty apartment. My reflection greets me with a grimace, like any time i pass in the corridor: a gaunt face, eyes too big, a mouth that never smiles.

Misplaced

When did i ever felt actually belonging somewhere? My parents always treated me with a facade of affection, hiding their contempt behind eyes that never narrowed looking at me: too quiet, too cold, too strange. I just wanted to stay alone, and thankfully no one ever tried to pull me out of my bubble. My peers kind of knew i was different, their skin tingled at my presence.

The doorbell rings, a piercing sound in the complete silence of my home and i go open the door: in front of me, two people look at me silently, with gaunt faces and big eyes.

"Yes?"

"Are you K?"

"I am, yes"

"We're here to collect you, are you ready?"

"Should i bring something with me?"

"No, you'll never need anything again. Are you ready to leave this life?"

They say this gently and i'm not afraid. I look behind me at the shabby apartment, at my boring job, at my loveless family. Then, i nod.

The car ride is long and silent, but I feel at ease: these two people are here to help, I know it in my soul. Then, we hike for a while in the countryside until we reach a fork in the road, but they just go straight inside the woods. We reach a clearing, a mushroom circle glistens under the moon.

We stop and, from somewhere dark comes a figure: it's me, only... "fuller". One of the people with me takes them away, while the other gestures me to stand in the circle.

"We are so sorry for your displacement, we hope this time it will be better. Forgive us."

I try to say something but i'm becoming smaller. And smaller. And younger. Until

I open my eyes, my parents look down on me. The room is basked in light, everything smells like cotton and summer days. They smile, their eyes narrowing.

Kyle? Where's Kyle?

He was behind me not too long ago, but now he's vanished completely. I call his name and it reverberates in the humid air but to no avail: he's gone.

He would not leave me here alone like this. Had he... drowned? But how? The bog has never been that treacherous... Has it?

I look and look, until a figure jumps up from behind some rocks: it's Kyle, face covered in mud, laughing at my hysterical screaming. He has been laying face down in the bog for a while, waiting for me to find him.

After a while I start laughing nervously too, as he puts his arm around my shoulders and guides me towards the car. I look at him when he looks away. My heart sinks.

That's not him.

His body, his voice, his mannerisms are there, but... not his eyes. Who laid down in the bog isn't the same person that got up.

He smiles, a cold cold smile that doesn't look like my husband at all.

"Shall we go home, my dear?"

But the aching pain in his ankle and the constant murmuring of his near empty stomach said otherwise. They wouldn't let him forget.

Half asleep, the man tried to send his mind far from the hunger and pain, when an urgent voice woke him up:

"Oranges! I found oranges!"

Mirael was screaming gleefully, running towards him with a pile of oranges falling from his arms.

"Wuh- what? Where?"

"I continued on the path I opened yesterday and after a bit of a squabble with a bush I found an abandoned orchard with orange trees! And other vegetables too, but first I wanted to ensure we weren't going to get scurvy before we could actually start to eat properly!"

"Mirael, that's amazing!"

Jen perked up, moved by the unbridled joy the other man was emanating and took one of the fruits: it was warm and soft, maybe a bit too ripe but still nice and shiny. He tore one in half, not caring about squishing it and started eating, while Mirael, now sitting beside him, was more careful and was peeling and savoring one segment at a time, looking intently.

"What?"

Asked Jen, with juice all over his face.

"You're such a savage..."

Joked Mirael. Then, he moved closer to the other man, taking his chin in his hand and wiping off the juice with a thumb, then sucking on it.

"We can't waste all of this good stuff like this, can we?"

He said softly, getting even closer. His mouth moved, as to say something when-