Random Writings

Alby

I stared at the sky, grey and darkening with clouds, thunder rumbling off in the distance. The trees waved in the wind, their leaves rustling in protest. Joseph would have loved to paint a scene like this. Instead, he sobbed; me, his lover, interpolated in his arms, warm breath in my ear; the blade piercing my corset shaking in his hand, the blood dripping down my stomach. This will never wash out was my first thought when I realized what he was doing, what he had done. I then wondered what had possessed my father when he made the decision to leave the leave the safety of country to go to London after our home was irreparably destroyed. I almost laughed at the thought of him, a bald burly man of fifty, espousing the idea of going to countryside to pick flowers, like his daughter Daisy suggested. Sweet Daisy, gregarious and kind, the most generous little girl I would ever know. She would be reading in the library now, curled up on the couch under the window, the fireplace lit and warm. George, The Cat With The Impeccable—she loved that word—White Fur, would make mischief about the room while she read, climbing on tables and slipping through bookshelves. I could see her face, twisted in confusion, at the news. Her rosy cheeks flushing red as she burst into tears. My father would be laconic, he didn’t raise his children to be lily-livered, he would say to us; his daughters were men and his sons were gods in their own right. My cheeks were wet. It was raining. I absently hoped that Joseph wouldn’t fall ill from the cold. My hands were still on the nape of his neck, the warmth of the embrace gone, only a bitter taste burned in my throat. It rose. I gingerly released myself from his grasp and emptied the contents of my stomach onto the grass. Joseph clutched his bloodied hand and paced about, languishing at his actions. “I know I should have… Oh why….! Dearest Father…” His anxious murmuring continued. I laid on my side, waiting. At the nadir his of panic he crouched down on grass next to me.

“How are you so calm? You’re-you’re bleeding to death! I-I’ve killed you! No one is coming for us til morning!” I felt the unfamiliar pull of my mouth up toward my cheeks. I was smiling. “You’ve never met an Alby, I presume.”

“A—what? How does that—I-I’ve heard stories, but that’s all they are: mendacious tales to keep the children in line.” Another smile.

“With my dying breath, let me spin you one last yarn,” I beckoned him closer and placed my head in his lap. “The legend of the hapless Alby folk, the rarest breed of fae who ever lived. Once plentiful on Earth, we were killed off to allow humans to build their homes and towns. Discomfited by mankind, we slunk into the shadows—”

“We? You're a—”

“Let me finish, Jo. We were almost defunct, our armies in disarray and our people slaughtered. Do you know what we did?” Joseph shook his head. “We became gods.” I was giddy now, lightheaded. “In one grand release of life, we became more. More than the other fae, more than the humans, more than life and death.” Joseph’s eyes widened in horror. And so it began. “We transcended the limits of mortals. The Alby Fae are all powerful!”

“What’s happening? What are you doing?” I laughed, better late than never.

“You cannot kill us, we are born ten times over, better and stranger than the last! We shall return and conquer the Earth!” Joseph had gotten up and gone a good distance away. He might survive what would happen next. “I’m here, my brothers and sisters! Take me to my next conquest! Let me bathe in your light!” A high buzzing sound filled my ears as tendrils of light poured out of the dirt. They formed an intricate lattice around me. I looked at Joseph one last time.

“Run, boy. Or you’ll never make it.”