Fairy Wings, Straight Up

I found this old contest story, I believe from 2018. A little long for a blog, and with an ending I'd like to revise, I still wanted to post it. I had genre/action/word prompts and a few days to write. I drew inspiration from my hometown bar, and my days as a bartender. Reading it with fresh eyes, there's a few things I love, a few things that are meh. Either way, a fun read. Enjoy!

Under the flickering neon Aesop’s Table sign, a heavy door, turquoise paint peeling, swung open wide. A cold rush of air burst inside, steaming up the glass windows as it mingled with the heat of a hundred bodies. Laughter and music filled the dark alcove of the doorway, the chorus of “Another One Bites the Dust” pushing its way into the wet and empty streets, becoming a sliver of sound, and then silence, as the door closed tight.

Flynn Wolde pulled the brim of his hat down and shouldered his way to a spot at the bar. He pushed past a couple who were tight in embrace, his furry arm brushing the back of a kelpie who rhythmically shape-shifted from human to horse form, alternately cooing and whinnying in her lover’s ear. Flynn murmured an annoyed apology as he squeezed his way in and straddled a barstool. He was uncomfortable in his own skin tonight, the full moon had made his broad back and thick limbs larger than usual. Even though his size made it almost impossible to sit at this particular spot at the bar, it was his favorite – allowing him to keep his back to the crowd, his eye on the door, and his favorite barmaiden, Lily, as close as possible.

Lily looked beautiful. She was wearing her Misfits shirt, and seven diamond studs dotted each of her ears. Her wings shone in the low light and he admired her as she scolded a handsy hobbit. 

He gave a glance around the room and saw the usual suspects. Trolls, goblins, centaurs, sprites – they were all there tonight. Aesop’s Table was one of the few joints left that had the capability to serve life-saving regeneration in cocktail form. 

Vern, a sasquatch who had been frequenting Aesop’s Table longer than anyone, sauntered past to hit the loo. A jackelope whom Flynn had never seen before was mingling with a pretty cyclops. He was laughing too loudly, his teeth gnashing together between guffaws. His head lashed backward with laughter, antlers scraping the nearby jukebox.

Flynn scowled at the greedy patrons - sucking the life out of his love, Lily. Her service here at Aesop’s was not her choice. Even though fairies had been freed from the labs years ago, they weren’t released from their duty.

While each creature holds their own type of magic — for instance, werewolves ability to sense catastrophe before it strikes, or the selkies and kelpies ability to shapeshift —fairies magic was producing a universal antidote.

Scientists, and the business tycoons who owned them, had discovered long ago that fairy dust allowed magical creatures to regenerate after a Shedding — a random cyclical event causing creatures to first lose their outer bodies, their muscular and skeletal systems following close behind, resulting in death.

Entire colonies of creatures had been wiped out in Shedding events (RIP dragons, harpies, and Loch Ness monsters). But consuming the fairy substance caused DNA components to realign themselves, restoring the creature to their original form.

Now, fairies were cloned and funneled into the food and service industry, packed into kitchens and cafeterias, sloughing the precious dust from their wings. And like Lily, some of the fairies landed in bars, mixing their body’s magic into society’s double-dipped desire of alcohol consumption and regeneration.

Flynn was ready for a stiff one. He ordered his favorite drink; “Luck be a Lady.” Lily nodded, unimpressed with his order, and turned, her black hair swinging behind her slender hips. She glided to her well, dodging the dozens of fairies who were crafting various brews with mixers and magic dust. Lily smiled and began working her shiny wings against themselves to extract the fine and glittery powder into Flynn’s drink.

Flynn waited, fidgeting with his coaster. He ran his thumb along its frilly edge. In faded pink writing, someone with looping cursive script had scrawled a saucy invitation, “Wilhelm, meet me at the forest’s edge.” He wondered if Lily would meet him later.

Flynn looked up in time to see Lily scoop a puff of cloud onto his drink, its wispy tendrils trickling down the rim of his glass. He smiled faintly while she garnished the drink with a four-leaf clover, a little something to show she cared. She floated the drink over to him. It hovered and spun before landing in his waiting hand. Flynn curled his fingers around the drink, his claws clinking lightly against the glass.

A rare calm in the cacophony of happy hour allowed Flynn to catch Lily’s ear. “Give me a chance. I can get you out of here,” he growled, “I’ve got a magi who can create synthetic fairy dust. I can save you from this slavery. I hate watching you scrape and serve these losers.”

He imagined that her eyes softened, that her breath slowed enough to whisper some heartfelt gratitude for his heroics. Instead, she turned a hard smile on a new customer – her slender arms extended in greeting, her two pairs of hands poised to serve and announced, “The special tonight is the ‘Werewolf Nutball’ it’ll make your eyes roll back in your head.”

She winked in his direction, her hands on her hips. And for a moment, he felt warm inside.

But he knew he couldn’t change her. Lily didn’t believe Flynn could save her. She had bruised the tendons in her wings, she had seen the ugly of the world. She stayed at Aesop’s for one reason, survival. What else could she do?

The other barmaidens had been brainwashed during the cloning process to believe their service was an honor. They took to their jobs as if it was a blessing. Their smiles to the masses were actually genuine.

But not Lily, she had seen through the bullshit, and her smile was only for Flynn. And so, he couldn’t stop himself from trying to change the game for the woman he loved. She would never admit it, but they both knew she stayed because she wanted to keep Flynn safe from the Shedding, too.

No one knows when a Shedding might hit, but tonight, because Flynn was there, Lily had a moment of warning. The bar was in full swing, patrons bopping to the sounds of Oingo Boingo. Flynn heard Lily mutter “I wish they were all dead men,” when the hairs on his arms stood up. His hackles raised, he tilted his hat in her direction, and they locked eyes. Catastrophe loomed.

Lily gripped the bar.

She shuddered violently as the skin rippled down her body, peeling back layer upon layer. Customers began to melt mid-drink, fur, horns, and hooves dropping in puddles around them.

The Shedding continued for more than an hour.

When Lily’s regeneration was complete, she found herself in the same position, hands still gripping the bar. It took a moment for her to compose herself, she smoothed her hair and cursed loudly.

“Change the damn song,” she yelled in the direction of the jukebox, as the chords to a Beiber tune drilled into her skull.

She met Flynn’s eyes, still pained after the process of regenerating. Around him, creatures grew back into themselves, the puddling in reverse, melting faces turned real again. Backs were patted as friends gained solid ground; there were audible sighs of relief. As soon as their limbs were capable of carrying them, the crowd mobbed the bar.

“I need a double!” a phoenix screeched in Lily’s direction. A flurry of feathers crowded her view, Flynn was no longer within eye shot. He could wait for her, even though his thirst was as great as any of these panicked beasts after a Shedding.

The fairies braced themselves for the rush. Lily pounded her way through the demand, her wings trembling, the dozens of delicate veins in her wings bursting in response to the harsh treatment.

One by one the patrons were served, soothed, and sent on their way. The crowd thinned.

The barmaidens regrouped after the last creature left, their wings throbbing from the night’s work.

“We’re so lucky to be chosen,” one fairy sang out. “Look how many we served and saved!”

“Sheddings sure are great for business,” said another, pointing to the sales receipt.

Lily stared at her chipper co-workers, wondering how they could find meaning in such a pointless existence. She counted her tips, wove her hair into a side braid, and slipped out the front door.

She made her way west to the waterfront. She found an empty bench where she could rest and stare at the reflection of the full moon on the bay.

A few moments later Flynn slid beside her. “The magi didn’t show, but I’m gonna keep looking. Soon. I will fix this for you, Lily.” She didn’t look at him, but was grateful the dank, sweet, scent of his fur enveloped her.

“Fuck it,” she whispered a few moments later, savoring a drag from her vape pen. She pulled Flynn’s muzzle close and kissed him on the cheek, holding her lips there longer than she should, his whiskers pressed against her ear.

She unlocked from the embrace. And before he could stop her, Flynn watched as his beloved Lily reached behind and ripped the wings from her shoulder blades, sparkling droplets of blood oozing down her back. She turned to him, “Werewolf nutball,” she murmured, breaking into a smile as bright as the moon.