Conversations With A Faerie

     *POP*

     “What? A faerie? I don’t think so!”

     “GAH! Who are you?”

     “I’m the faerie, UGH! you’re writing about.”

     “You’re the faerie?”

     “Look lady, don’t call me a faerie!”

     “Ow. Poking me in the chest hurts. What are you doing here?”

     “Making sure you get the story right. And you’re not doing such a great job so far. I’m rather disappointed.”

     “OK, so what do you call a small, beautiful, winged woman with magical powers?”

     “Sure, you could use ‘faerie’ for a typical person of that description, but I’m not typical. I’m stronger, faster, meaner, and smarter than anything or anyone you could call a ‘faerie’. I would like to be called a Warrior With Wings. Or 3W for short.”

     “Fine. OK. 3W it is. Can I write my story now? I’d like to get it into this week’s Neopian Times.”

     “Sure. Don’t let me keep you from working, even if you tried to call me a stupid ‘faerie’.

     *POP*

     All right, where was I? Oh yeah. I remember now.

     Once upon a time, in a small kingdom in Neopia there was a beautiful fa... er Warrior With Wings named...

     *POP*

     “Wait, one more thing.”

     ”GAH!!! Quit doing that popping in thing! You’re going to give me heart failure.”

     ”What is your issue? You’re very tense for a writer, aren’t you? You should take some time for a cup of chamomile tea. It will calm you right down.”

     ”You not popping into my face every two seconds will help me calm down also. Let’s try that first, ok?”

     “Psh. Whatever. Anyway, I was thinking, being beautiful is nice and all that, but I don’t want them, your readers, judging me on looks alone. There’s so much more to me than that.”

     “But, I need to describe you so they know what you look like.”

     “No, you don’t. They can picture me however they want to. I really don’t care much at all. Talk about my prowess with a sword. Talk about how I can fly faster than anyone else and win all the faerie races. Talk about how I can arm wrestle all the faeries all night long and never get tired. We don’t need to stand around while you wax poetic about my ‘lustrous brown hair’ or ‘fabulous chocolate colored eyes’ or even about my ‘clear, milky complexion.’ And we certainly don’t need to mention the fact that I’ve won the Faerie Beauty Pageant eight times in a row! ICK! I was just trying to earn enough codestones to finish my Battledome training.”

     “OK, fine. I won’t mention beautiful, or your looks in any way. Why don’t you go read a book or something while I try and finish this story.”

     ”Fine. Just try to not mess it up any more than you already have.”

     *POP*

     Thank goodness she’s gone. Let’s try this again.

     Once upon a time, in a small kingdom in Neopia, there was a small, highly trained Warrior who happened to have wings. Her name was...

     *POP*

     “Hey, writer lady, what’s with this ‘Once upon a time’ stuff? That makes the story sound fake.”

     “I thought you were going to read a book.”

     “I wanted to make sure you got this story right.”

     “Lucky me. I’m writing this for the Neopian Times. Little kids read it. I wanted them to feel comfortable with my story... er... your story... er... the story about you that I’m writing. Besides, people LIKE stories that start with once upon a time. It’s a classic line. What would you prefer I use instead of once upon a time?”

     “How about ‘Yesterday afternoon, around 2 o’clock. That is when all this happened after all.”

     “Fine. I’ll use that line instead. You can leave now.”

     ”Whoa there. No need to rip my nose off. I’m sure the story will come out fine. Don’t take your tension out on me. Did you try that chamomile tea that I suggested before?”

     “Really, I’m good now. You can go. I drink the tea right after you leave.”

     “All right. If you’re sure you don’t need any more help?”

     ”Help? No, no, I’m sure. I’ll be fine without you. Thank you for coming... again.”

     “Bye.”

     *POP*

     Deep breaths are good. Counting to ten is good. Maybe I should try counting to twenty, in Latin. OK, better. Do you see that fa... er Warrior anywhere around here? No? Good. Let’s try this again.

     Yesterday afternoon, around two o’clock in a small kingdom in Neopia there was a small, highly trained Warrior with Wings whose name was N...

     *POP*

     “How’s the story going?””

     ”AAH! You scared me! I thought you were gone.”

     ”I was, but I came back to check on your story. It is about me, you know.”

     ”You know what? Not anymore it isn’t. I’m going to write a story about a Kiko or a Draik or something. Anything is better than writing about, and being tormented by, you! Gah! I’m out of here!”

     “Wow, wonder what’s bothering her? I guess she just doesn’t have what it takes to handle the stress of trying to write a story. I guess I’ll just have to write it for her.”

     Yesterday afternoon, around two o’clock I...

     “Hmm. How do I describe myself? I guess the easiest thing for people to understand is if I call myself a faerie. Even though I’m so NOT a faerie, I don’t think they’ll get the whole Warrior with Wings thing. Even my mother doesn’t get that.”

     Yesterday afternoon, around two o’clock, there was a faerie....

     “Wait, it’s still not right. People are going to want an image. The standard faerie is good looking, but I’ve won all those pageants, so I guess it’s ok to say I’m beautiful. Not too vain. Besides, it will make my mother happy. Not that it matters to me, of course, but it will make the readers understand what happened a little better if they have a good picture of me.”

     Yesterday afternoon around two o’clock....

     “I think I need to change the opening line. Since I’m going with the traditional description of myself, I think I need a traditional opening. I want the readers to be fully engaged, not just thinking this is some edgy shtick trying to grab them and suck them into a poorly written story. I know! I’ve got the perfect opening!”

     Once upon a time, in a small kingdom in Neopia, there was a small, beautiful faerie named N...

     “GAH!! Why are you still here? This is my house.”

     “I’m writing the story.”

     ”But this is my house. Why don’t you write the story at YOUR house, so I can write my own story here?”

     “I know it’s your house, but my muse struck me here, so I wrote. Do you feel better after your walk?”

     “I did until I saw you here.”

     ”What? Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to mumble? That certainly wasn’t allowed at Faerie School.”

     “I feel fine now, thank you. When are you leaving?”

     “As soon as I write the rest of the story. It’s really coming along great right now.”

     “Fine. If that’s what you need to do to leave, maybe I can help you out. Let me see what you have written so far. WHAT!?!?! This is exactly what I had before you interfered!”

     ”No it’s not. This is better.”

     ”That’s it. I’ve had it. OUT of my house, and don’t come back!”

     ”Psht. I never knew writers could be so temperamental! If this is the way you are going to treat me, maybe I’ll just leave!”

     *POP*

The End