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The Fairy Console
Ana was eight when she got her Fairy console for Christmas. In a family like hers, with both her parents eking out a meagre living at the local authority, a Fairy console was a regal present. The technology packed inside the toy was brand new, and very expensive.
When the amazement of the unboxing had dispelled, she fell into her parents’ arms amidst tears of joy. Then she considered the console in all her shininess and beauty, reluctant to open it.
‘Why don’t you open it?’ her mother asked.
‘I’m afraid it could break,’ Anna replied.
With a sigh she finally resolved to lift the lid. The bottom part of the console was made of heavy, nondescript plastic, but the inside of the lid had a few tiny holes punched in it, one of which was filled with a tiny lens. Once fully open, the lid stood perpendicular to the bottom, and the console could be set at rest on a table.
There was a transient whir as the device turned on. Then, in a high-pitched voice, ‘Hello, Ana, I’m so happy to meet you! I’m your personal Fairy. I hope we’ll live many adventures together!’
Ana was enraptured.
‘Fairy, please, could you…’ Ana hesitated. ‘Could you clothe me in a princess’ dress?’
‘Of course, dear!’ The lens lit on, and suddenly Ana was wrapped into a glittering, bright-coloured, pleated dress. She chirped and spun, and the dress moved and unfurled around her. The illusion was nonpareil.
‘Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!’ Ana said once again to her parents. She beamed to them, took the console and, still clad in her glitzy princess’ dress, ran into her bedroom.
Her parents smiled to one another.
In the following months, Ana’s bedroom accommodated all sort of marvellous items or animals. Sumptuous attire, sparkling gems, rings and diadems, flying dragons and unicorns. There wasn’t a day she didn’t spend many hours talking to her Fairy console.
But other Christmases, other birthdays came, and Ana slowly shed off her childhood’s outfits to put on the less naïve, flashier clothes of teenagers. Her parents adopted a dog. Ana’s attention turned elsewhere, and the forlorn Fairy console ended up forgotten inside a drawer. Then, when she got a new desk for high-school, it was shoved into a box, and put away in the cellar.
Then grim times struck. The schools closed. War erupted, and with it life in constant fear and scarcity. Regular return trips to the dark underground shelters and hopeless prayers to fend off the carpet-bombings. The power grid failed. Hunger became a daily companion. Their dog died of starvation. Ana’s mother took sick and died.
When the war finally ended, there was hardly anything left of Ana’s former home and life. Her father, as former public servant, obtained an emergency housing in another, less damaged, quarter. They had to move everything by themselves.
Ana rediscovered the Fairy box late that night after most of the unpacking was done. It was covered in dirt, and the shiny and pristine rosy covering had flaked off along deep scratches. She blew the dirt away, and carefully opened the lid.
The lid squeaked, and only snatches of the once familiar voice came out: ‘Hello Ana… fairy… hope… many adven… er.’
The batteries were probably all but empty, but there was no way Ana could buy new ones. Suddenly overwhelmed by all the memories the toy had conjured up, she cupped her face into her hands and burst into tears.
‘Why… crying?’ the console asked.
‘Fairy,’ Ana asked between two sobs, ‘could you bring my old life back, before the war?’
The lens blinked on, but failed before any hologram could be seen. There was a short pause, then the console stuttered: ‘… worn out… Old… do… what I can.’ After that last word, the power indicator went dead.
Ana angrily threw the toy against the opposite wall, flopped down into her bed, buried her head under the pillow and kept crying until exhaustion and sleep finally took her over.
The next morning when Ana woke up, she didn’t stir immediately, but kept staring at the ceiling for a long time. Then she slowly rolled on to her side and took in her bedroom.
She shuddered.
Exactly where the console had crashed that last evening now lay a small, sleeping puppy.
When the amazement of the unboxing had dispelled, she fell into her parents’ arms amidst tears of joy. Then she considered the console in all her shininess and beauty, reluctant to open it.
‘Why don’t you open it?’ her mother asked.
‘I’m afraid it could break,’ Anna replied.
With a sigh she finally resolved to lift the lid. The bottom part of the console was made of heavy, nondescript plastic, but the inside of the lid had a few tiny holes punched in it, one of which was filled with a tiny lens. Once fully open, the lid stood perpendicular to the bottom, and the console could be set at rest on a table.
There was a transient whir as the device turned on. Then, in a high-pitched voice, ‘Hello, Ana, I’m so happy to meet you! I’m your personal Fairy. I hope we’ll live many adventures together!’
Ana was enraptured.
‘Fairy, please, could you…’ Ana hesitated. ‘Could you clothe me in a princess’ dress?’
‘Of course, dear!’ The lens lit on, and suddenly Ana was wrapped into a glittering, bright-coloured, pleated dress. She chirped and spun, and the dress moved and unfurled around her. The illusion was nonpareil.
‘Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!’ Ana said once again to her parents. She beamed to them, took the console and, still clad in her glitzy princess’ dress, ran into her bedroom.
Her parents smiled to one another.
In the following months, Ana’s bedroom accommodated all sort of marvellous items or animals. Sumptuous attire, sparkling gems, rings and diadems, flying dragons and unicorns. There wasn’t a day she didn’t spend many hours talking to her Fairy console.
But other Christmases, other birthdays came, and Ana slowly shed off her childhood’s outfits to put on the less naïve, flashier clothes of teenagers. Her parents adopted a dog. Ana’s attention turned elsewhere, and the forlorn Fairy console ended up forgotten inside a drawer. Then, when she got a new desk for high-school, it was shoved into a box, and put away in the cellar.
Then grim times struck. The schools closed. War erupted, and with it life in constant fear and scarcity. Regular return trips to the dark underground shelters and hopeless prayers to fend off the carpet-bombings. The power grid failed. Hunger became a daily companion. Their dog died of starvation. Ana’s mother took sick and died.
When the war finally ended, there was hardly anything left of Ana’s former home and life. Her father, as former public servant, obtained an emergency housing in another, less damaged, quarter. They had to move everything by themselves.
Ana rediscovered the Fairy box late that night after most of the unpacking was done. It was covered in dirt, and the shiny and pristine rosy covering had flaked off along deep scratches. She blew the dirt away, and carefully opened the lid.
The lid squeaked, and only snatches of the once familiar voice came out: ‘Hello Ana… fairy… hope… many adven… er.’
The batteries were probably all but empty, but there was no way Ana could buy new ones. Suddenly overwhelmed by all the memories the toy had conjured up, she cupped her face into her hands and burst into tears.
‘Why… crying?’ the console asked.
‘Fairy,’ Ana asked between two sobs, ‘could you bring my old life back, before the war?’
The lens blinked on, but failed before any hologram could be seen. There was a short pause, then the console stuttered: ‘… worn out… Old… do… what I can.’ After that last word, the power indicator went dead.
Ana angrily threw the toy against the opposite wall, flopped down into her bed, buried her head under the pillow and kept crying until exhaustion and sleep finally took her over.
The next morning when Ana woke up, she didn’t stir immediately, but kept staring at the ceiling for a long time. Then she slowly rolled on to her side and took in her bedroom.
She shuddered.
Exactly where the console had crashed that last evening now lay a small, sleeping puppy.
Pics
That puppy is the villain of this short tale.
We have a hand in the suffering which war, and teenage sexuality, bring. The fairy console is a meager consolation.
Puppies are innocent. This means they are free of the weight of regret. Ana, however, is bed-ridden by the conclusion, and "staring at the ceiling for a long time."
Perhaps she has a long-lost brother, a Gregor Samsa who has undergone a repulsive transformation. She cannot live with him. Soon she will be throwing apples, trying to repel its mocking presence. She will have to explain it to the neighbors. And it won't suffice to say that it came from the old toy. There is no excuse for it--only that's just how things are.
Maybe another war would solve the issue.
We have a hand in the suffering which war, and teenage sexuality, bring. The fairy console is a meager consolation.
Puppies are innocent. This means they are free of the weight of regret. Ana, however, is bed-ridden by the conclusion, and "staring at the ceiling for a long time."
Perhaps she has a long-lost brother, a Gregor Samsa who has undergone a repulsive transformation. She cannot live with him. Soon she will be throwing apples, trying to repel its mocking presence. She will have to explain it to the neighbors. And it won't suffice to say that it came from the old toy. There is no excuse for it--only that's just how things are.
Maybe another war would solve the issue.
Watch a bit of close repetition, like where you use "tiny" twice in the same sentence.
I'm guessing that the ending is the console using the last bit of its power to give her back at least one thing she used to have, but then why did the console disappear? It didn't need to whenever giving her something else, but maybe that's what happens when the charge runs out? If so, that wouldn't give customers an opportunity to recharge it, if it even can be. For her part, she at least seems certain it does have standard batteries.
The extra holes in the lid put me in mind of a Discworld camera, where there's an actual little creature inside making it work. I don't think that's what you were going for, plus since they're on the lid, and you have to open the lid to operate it, she would have seen it inside if that were the case. Just a thought.
I like the progression here, kind of a modern riff on "The Giving Tree," but it's a hard story to fit inside this small a package. You have to gloss over all the parts about war and destitution and just take your word for how bad it is than actually getting to see it, and I don't even think that part of the plot was necessary, unless you managed to make a stronger thematic tie. She would have outgrown it anyway, and still could have rediscovered it later. The only thing that approaches requiring it is how desperate and fervent she is when making her last request of it. It's kind of like throwing in an unneeded character death just to ramp up the pathos level. Readers will complain about "cheap feels," so make sure the story actually requires that plot element.
Likewise, the console itself seems to have some strong personal connection to Ana, but we never get to see why. That makes its final self-sacrifice-sounding promise come out of the blue, and is another spot where you just have to take the story's word for it that there was a strong bond that went both ways, instead of ever demonstrating it. You keep to Ana's observations of things, not really to the point that it's a limited narrator, but still, I could see where you felt it shouldn't jump into the console's "mind" to let on what its feelings ever were, but there are still ways to let the reader know, and that Ana could perceive even if she doesn't realize it. Like the last line it does say. But that's already at the climax without building up its side of the relationship beforehand. So maybe add some more things it says or some of the other things it might take initiative on as to how to interpret her wishes to really personalize them or deliver more than was asked in order to flesh that out before it's needed to deliver the story's emotional punch.
Man, I'm rambling.
I also wonder at the end if the gift of a dog shows some fundamental disconnect of the console's understanding of Ana's life. They've fallen on hard times, so can they even support a dog right now? I don't think you meant for this to be something that would cause them any hardship, so maybe drop a hint to make that clear. The battery issue might speak to that. I don't know if the idea is they're not available or she couldn't afford them. Either one would point to the dog being a burden, the latter more so. If you meant the console to have this lack of awareness that it couldn't read the situation, then show that happening elsewhere too so there's context.
Good story, though. There's a nice atmosphere to it and an ending that while seemingly upbeat could actually be an even sadder turn of events.
I'm guessing that the ending is the console using the last bit of its power to give her back at least one thing she used to have, but then why did the console disappear? It didn't need to whenever giving her something else, but maybe that's what happens when the charge runs out? If so, that wouldn't give customers an opportunity to recharge it, if it even can be. For her part, she at least seems certain it does have standard batteries.
The extra holes in the lid put me in mind of a Discworld camera, where there's an actual little creature inside making it work. I don't think that's what you were going for, plus since they're on the lid, and you have to open the lid to operate it, she would have seen it inside if that were the case. Just a thought.
I like the progression here, kind of a modern riff on "The Giving Tree," but it's a hard story to fit inside this small a package. You have to gloss over all the parts about war and destitution and just take your word for how bad it is than actually getting to see it, and I don't even think that part of the plot was necessary, unless you managed to make a stronger thematic tie. She would have outgrown it anyway, and still could have rediscovered it later. The only thing that approaches requiring it is how desperate and fervent she is when making her last request of it. It's kind of like throwing in an unneeded character death just to ramp up the pathos level. Readers will complain about "cheap feels," so make sure the story actually requires that plot element.
Likewise, the console itself seems to have some strong personal connection to Ana, but we never get to see why. That makes its final self-sacrifice-sounding promise come out of the blue, and is another spot where you just have to take the story's word for it that there was a strong bond that went both ways, instead of ever demonstrating it. You keep to Ana's observations of things, not really to the point that it's a limited narrator, but still, I could see where you felt it shouldn't jump into the console's "mind" to let on what its feelings ever were, but there are still ways to let the reader know, and that Ana could perceive even if she doesn't realize it. Like the last line it does say. But that's already at the climax without building up its side of the relationship beforehand. So maybe add some more things it says or some of the other things it might take initiative on as to how to interpret her wishes to really personalize them or deliver more than was asked in order to flesh that out before it's needed to deliver the story's emotional punch.
Man, I'm rambling.
I also wonder at the end if the gift of a dog shows some fundamental disconnect of the console's understanding of Ana's life. They've fallen on hard times, so can they even support a dog right now? I don't think you meant for this to be something that would cause them any hardship, so maybe drop a hint to make that clear. The battery issue might speak to that. I don't know if the idea is they're not available or she couldn't afford them. Either one would point to the dog being a burden, the latter more so. If you meant the console to have this lack of awareness that it couldn't read the situation, then show that happening elsewhere too so there's context.
Good story, though. There's a nice atmosphere to it and an ending that while seemingly upbeat could actually be an even sadder turn of events.
>>Pascoite
>>Heavy_Mole
Thank you both for the comments. I really appreciate it. In those times, with the Writeoff in a trough, it’s nice to be able to still count on one or two people to read and comment. So ❤️ for that, and also ❤️ for whoever voted on my story. I’m a bit in a hurry tonight, but I’ll write a more complete comment ASAP.
Thanks again!
>>Heavy_Mole
Thank you both for the comments. I really appreciate it. In those times, with the Writeoff in a trough, it’s nice to be able to still count on one or two people to read and comment. So ❤️ for that, and also ❤️ for whoever voted on my story. I’m a bit in a hurry tonight, but I’ll write a more complete comment ASAP.
Thanks again!