Savage Fairies

The kids spilled onto the yard, pastel colored shirts flashed down the porch stairs and disappeared from view. Then the creaking of their trampoline and the steady




of their tiny heads as they propelled each other higher, their five year old bodies showing surprising strength as they flung themselves toward the sun.  Giggling and screeching, their helium-pitched voices began to claim new identities:

“I’m a flower fairy!”

“I’m a water fairy!”

I’M a tooth fairy!”

I’m a gerbil fairy!”

The voices struggled to win in volume. The flower fairy battled the water and tooth fairies, while the lone gerbil fairy repeated his self-proclaimed title, unsure of why everyone was yelling.

Frantic, hysterical, they chanted their new personas, screaming with such a conviction, that for a moment, I was envious of their self-confidence. But there was a caste system that I was unaware of in the fairy world, and soon these fairies were crying and shrieking and racing in circles at each other like little lunatics.

They had all become savage fairies.

Except for the boy, I could hear him occasionally remind himself that he chose to be a gerbil fairy while hitting the fence half-heartedly with a stick. The little girls screamed furiously at each other in what had escalated to a show down between the water and tooth fairy that was guaranteed to make the parents take final sips of their margaritas and intervene.

gerbil fairy


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