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ELECTRIC TELL
Short Story 2026 James Burt, Toronto, Ont.

As the content lead, Jeff Latymer only had to come to the downtown office three times a week. It was Monday when the new arrival from Vertical K, Veronica, came in. Jeff was looking over Vertical K’s website just as she entered, and he closed the page as she walked by. Zane told him during their coffee break the Friday previous that while no disrespect was meant, the firm was bringing in a walking, talking, thinking human unit to help with editing.

“You’re hiring a ‘bot?”

“Come on, Jeff,” Zane said. “Synthetic AND intelligent humanoid. Show some respect, for Christ’s sake.”

Zane Miranda was Jeff’s buddy. They met during Jeff’s first interview at Zane’s new, self-established agency Tilt Score, whereafter Zane gave Jeff the job there and then before taking him to lunch, regaling all the opportunities Tilt Score had coming in. Even after Jeff and Zane left each other that afternoon, Zane texted him that evening: hey man its zane hope u r ready to start work.

Jeff was grateful. After being tossed by a legal publishing house eight months before, Jeff kept his bitterness canned. Full Tilt could fill his coffers and seemed like fun, at least from Zane’s enthusiasm. The first eight months at Tilt Score were fine. Latymer generated the content needed for Zane’s clients in sports news and betting. Then two big contracts came in from the Cottage and Leisure Network and an archiving branch of a cricket league in India. Work got too hard with just Zane, Jeff, and the two interns. Zane started meeting with various suits in his office and after he caught the two interns getting high on some white powder in office stairwell, fired them. Jeff had to do finish everything. The content errors arose thereafter.

“It’s no slur on you, Jeff. It’s just we need a little…”

“…quality assurance.”

Zane thought. “Yeah. Right. Anyway, Vertical K has the best units. She’ll be in Monday. You write, she proofs. No change much and you still got a job. Pay and benefits too.”

Jeff thought he would see an electric grandmother. The petite redhead came in just shy of the 9:30 AM. She passed Jeff’s cubicle, smiled, then sat at her assigned desk before beginning to boot up her computer and begin editing a basketball player trades compendium. Black cardigan, white shirt, tartan skirt with black tights, and her hair clipped back—this was Veronica.

Jeff saw the finished proofs of Veronica’s compendium that afternoon. No errors, proper syntax, and all statistics charts in perfect form. In the days after, she would turn to Jeff and say, “Sending you over a proof, Jeff. Please read it,” or “Could you perhaps check the diction on that term on page fifty-one?” Beyond that, she did everything as planned and in silence. Jeff’s worries began then. This is where people get phased out or restructure to sustain the quality. He knew that from experience.

Jeff also took up drinking more. There was an Irish pub, John Wexford’s Stone, in the concourse below Tilt Score’s building and on the concourse path to his condominium. He got to know the head bartender Nolan at the first visit and Nolan had Jeff’s regular two-Guinness-pints-and-one-Irish-car-bomb combination ready when he sat down. Jeff was sousing himself—he figured it would just a matter of time before getting canned again, receiving some severance, and either scouring the job sites or going back to school, perhaps for a trade. He talked to the escalator repair man on the concourse, noting they made five figures to start and got trained a local union office. That sounded at least like a contingency.

The next week Veronica over to Jeff’s cubicle he poured out some coffee from his thermos.

“Sorry to bother, Jeff. I need an idea,” she said.

“As in…?”

“If you were going to write about cricket, how would you start?”

Jeff thought for a second.

“Cricket in the UK? Or India?”

She smiled.

“Those are good. Thank you. One subject I am faulty on is cricket.”

She returned to her desk. Jeff drank his coffee and shrugged the exchange off. He started on the new golf club company’s annual report content despite hating golf. Zane said the company already paid a hefty contract fee and that the company had an interesting history dating back to the Jazz Era. Jeff found nothing that interesting but managed to have the draft done that day.

There was a work-at-home day, then Jeff came into the office the following morning. On his desk was a box of Spelman’s chocolates. The note on it read: “Thank you for the cricket ideas. Big help. Best, Veronica.” Finding Zane in the lunchroom, Jeff showed him the gift and note.

“She’s great, isn’t she? Works hard, sweet as can be, and apparently thinks you’re the bee’s knees,” he said.

“What?”

“She says you are very helpful, and you don’t bother her. ‘Jeff is a quiet river of ideas.’”

Jeff stood stone-faced thinking of quiet rivers. Zane continued.

“Look, I got her for what she was. And is. I saw you last week, ready to piss yourself that you’d be replaced. But she’s as limited as us, right? She’ll need your brain here and there. Don’t panic, just work with her. You’ll be the championship duo at the Tilt.”

Zane’s desk phone rung and he left. Jeff stood and thought. If this was Zane’s set-up, it might work.

Black Friday fell at the end of the next month. The big project to get out before that date was a sports trivia package. Veronica’s internal program was decent on most sports except cricket and lacrosse. Jeff sat with her to do up the content.

“Wade Boggs played for which team before retiring…?”

She thought. “Red Devils, Tampa Bay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“The last time the Flyers won the Stanley Cup was…?”

She came back immediately. “Who cares? Just kidding. ’75.”

Jeff tried to hide his astonishment. She knew a joke or two.

“Last, who won the WLC in ’86?”

She stumbled. “What’s ‘WLC’?”

“World Lacrosse Championship.”

She scowled. “Search it yourself, smart-aleck.”

Jeff snorted a laugh.

“I actually know: the US,” she said.

“Well done.”

They finished all the content by 7 PM. Late, but Jeff was buoyant.

“Want a drink?”

Veronica froze. “Never had one.”

“Time to try.”

Jeff led her down to John Wexford’s Stone, introduced her to Nolan, and they both had whiskey sours. Veronica took her first sip with apprehension, they nodded in approval, and finished the glass with gusto. Nolan watch in awe but Jeff kept ordering more.

“Fantastic drinks,” he said. Nolan came back, “Damn right. I made them.”

Jeff’s bladder strained and he excused himself to the men’s room. When he got back, Veronica was off her stool, scowling down another woman in a booth and her boyfriend beside. Nolan came off the bar and sidled up to Jeff. “That bird in the booth knocked into your lady. She blew. Might be the cocktails—she had two while you were away.”

Jeff grabbed Veronica’s arm. As he did, the woman’s boyfriend piped up and said, “Why don’t you two take it outside?”

“Good call, buddy,” Veronica said.

She pulled from Jeff and stormed out. He followed her and the woman got up to go in tow.

“I can fight you, b—…”

“Take a walk, hon,” Jeff said.

Veronica stopped. “It’s okay Jeff. I have a great defense program in me.”

Jeff shook his head and pulled her away. She looked fine but her eyes had excess watering. “We’re leaving.” He reached in his pocket, pulled out a few notes, and left them on the nearest table, signalling to Nolan they were for the bill. The woman Veronica angered stood and shouted obscenities, but Jeff kept walking and holding Veronica’s arm.

Veronica kept silent until they got down to the subway platform. “You know I could handle myself, Jeff. I know you know.”

Jeff said nothing. The train approached, stopped, and the doors chimed open.

“See you tomorrow.” He pointed Veronica to board. The doors closed and through the glass, Jeff noticed her eyes had gone to tears. The train left.

Jeff walked home, thinking about the incident. The ‘bots are not booze proof. Should Zane know? He slept on it and opted to keep silent once he awoke.

He also opted to go into the office just to see if anything had arisen. On his desk again was a box of Spelman’s chocolates and note saying, “So sorry about last night. Won’t happen again.”

Neither Veronica nor Zane were in the office. Jeff thought for a moment then left himself to get coffee.

It might not have happened again if Zane hadn’t thrown a client party in the office lunchroom two weeks later. Zane hadn’t bothered to announce it—a firm called Dollar Won of sports-betting prospective clients were invited so Zane could get Veronica and Jeff to showcase one of their stock demos on the lunchroom presentation screen. After its showing and five minutes of Zane’s gab, the firm was sold. One fellow, the sharp-dressed president Conrad, produced a bottle of Prosecco and toasted the deal with everyone. Jeff drank his and managed to chat one of the suits for a minute. Then came a ruckus in the corridor. Stepping out to it, Jeff saw Veronica standing over the short cleaning lady shouting, “Where’s my purse? Give it back!”

The cleaning lady was in shock. Jeff interceded and calmed the lady, pulling her aside. Her English was broken and she repeated: “No purse, no purse.” Jeff apologized further, led her to the elevator, and watched the doors close. He turned back to Veronica.

“Oh no,” she said. “Left my purse in the lunchroom, didn’t I?”

Jeff shrugged. How the hell did he know?

The door opened from the office. Zane and Conrad plus a few other suits stuck their head out. They’d heard the noise.

“All good, guys,” Jeff said. “She’s not feeling so good. Just taking her out.”

Jeff directed Veronica the elevator and the two entered after it dinged open. They stood in silence as it descended. Finally, Veronica spoke.

“Sorry again, Jeff…”

“Did you drink that Prosecco?”

“Well, yes.”

“How much?”

“A glass or two.”

Jeff shook his head. The elevator came to the concourse and the doors opened. Jeff led her out holding the elevator with one foot.

“Go home, Veronica. Sleep.”

She looked bewildered. He stared her down and the doors closed once more.

Jeff went back to the lunchroom where Zane was talking to Conrad. He asked, when Zane was free, that the two go into his office for a chat. Conrad spoke between them, “You got one hot momma there. Hate to take her purse.” Jeff ignored him.

After the crowd was gone, Zane and Jeff met.

“We have a problem, Zane. The ‘bot…Veronica has a flaw.”

Jeff explained the incidents involving her drinking. How she got angry and full of rage. Zane sat back in his chair, straight-faced with his hands folded.

“Come on, Jeff, that’s low.” He grinned. “This jealously thing has got to go.”

Jeff nearly blew. He told Zane not to be an idiot and pay more attention. Zane came out of his chair and landed his hand on Jeff’s left shoulder.

“Alright, Jeff. Fine. I believe you.” He went to his desk calendar, eyeing the days. “There’s a social meeting next Friday. Come out. We’ll see what there really is to see.”

Unsure, Jeff agreed. Zane told him to take the rest of the day off. Thursday night he got Zane’s message: come to john wexford stone.

Zane showed up as told and found Zane and Veronica in the back room with the same suits from Dollar Won. Zane had already bought a round of drinks for everyone. They all seemed to be watching Veronica who sipped at her vodka-soda. Once she finished it and everyone had a celebratory shot for the association of the two firms, Zane asked Veronica some questions.

“So Veron, what are your thoughts on the Oxford comma?”

“Good for essays, not for content.”

“How many paragraphs for the press releases?”

“Four or five. One page maximum.”

“What is the best company to do business with?”

“The last one you bought drink for, Zane.”

Everyone laughed and the suits applauded. Veronica smiled a bit then excused herself to go to the washroom. Zane laughed with the other fellows then came up to Jeff and whispered:

“See? Cucumber cool under pressure. Funny too.”

Jeff couldn’t respond except with, “Fine.”

Zane went to chat up some fellow while Jeff headed into the next room. He wanted to say hi to Nolan and talk about wine or movies with anybody other than work types. He didn’t make it inside the main bar when he heard a loud “goddammit” come from the restroom corridor. He knew it was Veronica.

Jeff found her yelling at one of the waitresses. “Watch where you are going, bitch!” Jeff figured she had knocked into Veronica by mistake.

The waitress bundled her fists. She shot more profanities at Veronica. Jeff stepped between the two, trying to calm Veronica down, hold her back, and placate the other woman. Nolan and another bartender appeared at one end of the corridor. Jeff didn’t want any more of a scene and knew if he didn’t get Veronica out, there would be a scrape, a possible ejection from the bar, and lots of gossip back at the office. It was clear that the alcohol had an effect. Not so cucumber cool.

“It’s all good, I’ve got her,” Jeff said. He saw Nolan back off, but Zane and Conrad appeared. Jeff took Veronica to the exit, stopping at Zane to say, “See? It’s the booze. She goes nuts.” Zane looked puzzled but patted Jeff’s back telling him to get going before reaching into his jacket to grab a wad of dollar bills to give to the waitress. Again, Jeff got her on the subway and yelled her out. She apologized but kept saying how the waitress was being a legitimate bitch and had no customer service skills.

“You keep doing this and we’re both in for it.”

“I know,” Veronica said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Keep what in mind? Not being a lush? What about the next party? You going to have a street fight if the caterer steps on your shoe?”

Veronica thought as the subway came to the platform. “Well, maybe not that…”

Jeff ordered her onto the train and watched it leave. Zane had to do something, period. Fighting, swearing, getting offended, all from a few drinks. It could kill the company and drive off any clients that even got wind of Veronica’s madness.

When he got home, Jeff rechecked Vertical K’s website. He clicked right to the page about they designed custom models for today’s workplaces that suited any management structure. Nothing about flaws or negative influences on them. Later he read consumer sites, and all were four to five stars out of five for Vertical K products. He almost logged off when he saw an article in a magazine site on their history. They started first in the automotive industry doing assembly line work and then a faction branched off into adult companionship. The journalist noted the success they had in various global cat houses and massage parlours, catering to both male and female clientele. The CEOs, Elwin and Sidney Walton, were bashful about talking about that stream, but there were many quotations from clients that Vertical K’s loving androids were “best in the business” and “so real they were sure there was no plastic involved”. It was after the capital from that venture that Vertical K streamlined their products for office environments.

The office was deserted the next day. Nothing on Jeff’s desk, no Zane and the suits in the lunchroom, no Veronica. He went through his desk file rack. All the projects were finished—only some needed Veronica’s proofreading. Jeff was about to leave when his desk landline rang. People rarely called into the office so Jeff improvised a greeting.

“Hello, Jeff Latymer, Vertical K creative. How can help you?”

There was some distortion then, “Oh hey. Which floor did you want the food?”

Jeff pulled the received harder to his mouth.

“I’m sorry…?”

“Got sandwiches, charcuterie boards, sliced fruit, and some wine for Vertical K.”

Jeff thought for a second then came back. “Oh right. Are you at our building?”

“Yeah.”

“Could you please bring it to floor eight, suite eight-zero-five?”

“Thought it was…the lower mezzanine or something…”

Jeff knew the place but came back.

“Sorry. Change of location.”

“Okay.” The phone went dead. Jeff had a key to the petty cash drawer. He hung up the phone and took two twenties from the drawer. When the delivery man arrived with the food, he confirmed that the food was prepaid. Jeff gave him the cash as tip. The man said thank-you and before leaving showed Jeff the bill.

“Sorry, man, couldn’t make out the name of the floor.”

Jeff looked at it. The ink was faded for both the address and the contact—lower mezzanine and Zane Miranda. The Vertical K print was visible.

“Sorry for the confusion.”

The delivery man left. Jeff’s mind flew. There was something happening on the lower mezzanine, one floor down from the lobby. Jeff found a dolly cart they used for delivering in stationery and loaded the food and drink on it. He left the office and proceeded to the elevator. Could have been a party. Or a meeting. Or some other Zane-created networking scheme.

Jeff pushed the cart out of elevator once it landed and heard talking in the boardroom just off the elevator doors. He followed the noise, coming right into the room and seeing the gathering there. He stopped once inside the doors to view the spectacle: Zane off to one side of the central table, the side from the night previous around him, and Veronica at the end of the table. Two opened bottles of Prosecco were in front of her. Zane seemed to be taking down notes from the suits. One man saw Jeff enter and motioned to Zane. Zane looked up. Seeing Jeff made his face freeze. He broke away from the gang.

“Hey…Jeff.”

“Brought your catering. Got a party going?”

“Well, sort of.” He paused. “Networking.”

“You didn’t tell me about this, Zane.”

“I would have later, Jeff,” Zane said, straightening out his jacket. “Stick around and learn or thing or two.”

Jeff rolled his eyes and took a seat. He knew something was going to go wrong.

Zane went over to where Veronica stood and took the stance of a carnival barker.

“All right, boys and girl, let’s get this going. We’re going to make the Coney Island hot dog eaters starving house rats. Who thinks they can take Veronica here in a bottle chug?”

One fellow named Henry volunteered. Zane took all the bets in cash. Henry took of his tie and rolled his sleeves. Zane had them take their marks and he set them loose. There was cheering and yelling from the suits. Jeff sat at the back in silence. He knew what would happen: Veronica had the bottle dry in five seconds while Henry was not even a third done, spilling the prosecco on his shirt, and trying not to gag on the gasified drink. Henry stepped down amongst the jeers of his buddies and Zane doled out the winning notes to two fellows.

“Now,” Zane said. “You’ve seen midget throwing and doing shots. Now we have a real game going. William Tell as done by our lovely Veronica.”

Veronica was all smiles. She stood at the end of the table where Zane told her to. He made her stay solid and placed one of the plastic cups that the caterer brought on the centre of her head. Zane then went back to the suits and collected a round of bets. He then took out a stress stopper ball from his pocket with the Vertical K logo on it.

“Whoever can knock the cup of her head wins.”

The suits were giddy and line for a turn. Henry was shoved forward to make up for his loss. He took the ball from Zane, aimed, and threw. It hit the wall behind Veronica, but she stayed there, still, and her smile continued. Jeff could see her eyes and that were lit up. The next suit, Bradley, tried. He came closer but missed. Then came Karl. He hit Veronica in the neck. She only budged an inch. Finally, Alan approached. He pretended to be a baseball pitcher by leaning down, nodding as if a back catcher was signalling him, then threw a curve ball. A professional throw but it couldn’t be completed. Veronica caught it just before it would have hit the cup. She took it in hand, bringing it down to her side, squeezing it.

All the suits and Zane froze. Jeff tried to look past them to see how Veronica was. She dropped her smile and pitched it back from its origins. It zoomed and only made a grey line across the boardroom. Alan’s nose caught the ball coming at it him. There was a crack. The ball fell and Alan stood and blinked. A small bloodstream ran out of his left nostril. A second later he dropped to the floor.

Henry went to look at Alan. “Jesus…he’s out…”

Zane came towards to look as well. Seeing the severity, the instructed the suits to help lift him out and call for an ambulance. Bradley started to get harsh with Zane, calling him an idiot for doing the game at all. Zane tried to calm him. Jeff got up and went to Veronica.

“Are you alright?”

“Oh, fine,” she said and pointed to Alan on the floor. “What’s with him?”

“Never mind. Let’s get you home.”

He took her out of the boardroom and to the first floor. As they left the building, the ambulance arrived, and the emergency services crew entered. Jeff kept a straight face and tried not to draw attention to Veronica or him.

They got to the subway and took the train back to Veronica’s condominium. He brought Veronica in and sat her on the couch before getting her a glass of water.

“Thank you,” she said and drank the glass dry. “What was all the fuss there?”

“You really don’t understand?”

“Well, I know William Tell, at least as it used to be done with guns and apples. But that was just a ball.”

Jeff didn’t know what to say.

“We’ll talk about this later.” He went back to the kitchen with the empty glass. There was a tablet on the counter that went alive with light. A message from Zane to Veronica: its ok here were did u guys go

Jeff didn’t bother responding. He went back into his sitting area. Veronica was curled on the couch, fast asleep. Good, Jeff thought. Some silence. Feeling a stomach rumble, Jeff went to the kitchen refrigerator and opened it. It only contained some fruit, protein mix, and bottles of water. He took one out and read its label. It had Vertical K’s logo and with a prescription-type label:

Lurie

Unit 301

Please drink three times a day. For your use only. Do not consume with other food or medication.

Jeff twisted the cap and heard some gas release. He sniffed the rim but got no odour. Thirsty and feeling tired, he took a drink. It had a light hint of cherry flavouring. He slowly consumed the whole bottle. Once done he put the bottle on the counter and felt his own fatigue seemed to hit. His head got heavy and seeing Veronica now stretched on the couch, he looked into her bedroom. Her king-sized bed was properly made and he laid on it. Sleep captured him within a minute.

Jeff was out but his head flooded with dreams and images. They flew in and out of his mind and he seemed to jerk himself awake at one point. He remembered his eyes opened and he turned over to see Veronica beside him. Her eyes were already open and on him. She didn’t say a word but touched his face, then his short hair, then his mouth. It took him no time to lean in and kiss her before touching her whole body. That was the last image he had before he woke up again.

His mouth tasted sour, and he was in his clothes, wet with sweat. Veronica was nowhere on the bed, in the bedroom, or out in the living area. The bottle he drank was still on the countertop. Still grogged from his sleep, Jeff stood and went to the window. It was sunrise. He’d slept the whole afternoon and night. He checked the kitchen tablet: 7:25 AM. Reviewing his dreams or what he thought might have happened, he left and headed for his own condominium. He got in at 8 AM, showered, cleaned his teeth, and changed his clothes. There were no messages on his phone. Jeff knew then he needed to go to the office just to see what new surprises might be in store.

The office seemed alive but without people. Jeff smelled coffee brewing from the lunchroom. When he got to his desk, there was a bottle of Spelman’s chocolates, a bottle of Italian chianti, and a plastic wrapped bouquet of roses. He thought it was Veronica again but when he picked up the flower bundle, there was a handwritten note of what looked like a Vertical K-branded writing tablet saying, When you get in, please come to Zane’s office. Jeff sat the flowers down and heard something behind him. He turned and saw a man in a sports coat, slacks, leather shoes, and gelled hair before him. Jeff knew his face.

“Hi. Jeff Latymer?”

Jeff nodded.

“El Walton. From Vertical K.”

He offered his hand and Jeff shook it.

“Hope you like the vino and flowers. Veronica said you liked Spelman’s. I like them too. Uh…got a minute?”

Jeff said he did.

“Oh, you can take the stuff on your desk with you.”

Jeff did as he was told and followed Elwin, uncertain of what was to happen. They went into Zane’s office. The man sitting at Zane’s desk was Sidney Walton. He too shook Jeff’s hand before offering him a seat. Elwin sat beside him.

“Listen Jeff, we appreciate you coming in today. Have to ask: were you on hand yesterday downstairs?”

Jeff said he was.

“You’ve been getting along with Veronica alright?”

Jeff said he had.

“Zane too, right?”

Jeff finally answered: “Sure. Is he here?”

Sidney looked at Elwin. “No. Neither is Veronica. Well, we recalled her. From her place. Two of our product engineers picked her up.”

Jeff stayed silent. Did those two engineer bastards see him too?

“Anyway, she’s out of commission for now. We got word about that ruckus downstairs from the security guy and found out she’d been drinking. It’s a glitch to fix but we’ll figure it out later.”

Jeff tried to stay stone-faced. “Is Zane okay?”

“We deactivated him too,” Sidney said with a stern look.

Jeff almost lost his composure.

“Zane was another model from a competitor,” Elwin said. “We bought him some time ago. Think you and he worked together at some other place, no?”

Jeff said they had.

“Guess you started to see the bugs too then,” Sidney said to pick up from Elwin. “The badly written messages, the gambling, the stupid parties. He wasn’t supposed to offer them. Anyway, we’ll put him on ice till, well, whenever we figure things out.”

Elwin started the chat again. “You’ve been great, Jeff. As I gathered, you handled all this nonsense well and didn’t know a thing. But I must be honest, all this chaos might have gotten, how to say, around the downtown.” He paused, then said, “We have to pull the plug on Tilt.”

Elwin reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope. He flipped it in his hand and handed it to Jeff. “We hate to do this, especially to you, but hopefully this can hold you over till you get a new job. You’re still on benefits for three months. Obviously, if you need a reference, message Sid or me.”

Jeff looked in the envelope. A certified cheque with more zeroes before the decimal than Jeff had ever seen. He closed it and said the only thing he could.

“Thank you.”

Elwin and Sidney looked at each other, smiled, and stood. They both shook Jeff’s hand with Elwin asking, “Are you good to get home?”

Jeff said he was and exited. On the concourse, he passed the security guard that saw the incident. He looked at Jeff, but Jeff turned away. The stooge was not worth a glance.

He found himself in John Wexford Stone’s. Nolan was at the bar. The basketball game was on. Jeff pulled up, was polite and apologetic to Nolan for the incident before. Nolan said everything was fine. Jeff showed him the wine and offered it to Nolan as a gift. Nolan came back with the offer that they should split before the manager saw it. Jeff agreed. They both drank with smiles until Nolan made a remark.

“Good shiraz.”

“Oh no,” Jeff said. “It’s chianti.”

Nolan shook his head. “I’m Sommelier certified. That’s a shiraz. Not bad either.”

Jeff showed him the label. Nolan wasn’t buying it. He took a shiraz off the bar and poured both a glass. Jeff took it and had a sip.

“See? That’s shiraz.”

“Oh yeah. Right,” Jeff said. He lied. It all tasted the same.

BLURRY LAVENDER
Senior, vision becomes blurry,
Waist is swallowed up Into the floor
Lavender scent over powers
the branches that scratch the window.

GENTLE ANGEL KISS
Morning, mourning, alcohol gone
Ceiling fan, circulating, cooling
Into her arms I lean forward
PeanutButter, arms opening, angel kiss.

WHO'S BEHIND THE DOOR
Green tea. White cup. No sugar.
Wooden table. Branches scratch; hornets tap the window.
Water pools; cups and dishes drown.
The lavender-scented candle goes out.

Four honks. Three heavy knocks.
Who do you think is behind the door?

She stops; I stand. The porch board creaks. Three steps.
Her hand finds the broom. “Who’s there?”
7:00 blinks. The handle turns twice. “Wait,” she whispers.

THE SEASON OF JOY
Short Story ©2026 by Heaven Lubocki, Niagara Falls, Ont.

Morning dew still coated the forest floor, and the early chirps of robins began to wake the slumbering trees. Joy looked back at the old country road she had walked on all throughout the night. She fiddled with the locket around her neck, and let out a sigh as she took her first step off the paved road.

The girl named Joy took in the path before her, an unmarked dirt trail that went as far as the eye could see into the woods. As she ventured deeper into the trail, budding trees reminded her that it was the start of spring. April showers had created temporary streams, now a resting place for frogs that met your gaze a second too long.

The season had even awakened the marsh marigolds that surrounded the dirt path. Joy bent down and collected a few of the brightest ones. She closed her eyes and braided them into her hair and remembered a simpler time when her older sister May would spend hours combing and braiding flowers into her hair while telling her all about the fae fables from her books.

With the marigolds surrounding her feet and the robins continuing their morning song, Joy felt as if forest had prepared for her return. Without even a single thought of returning back to that paved road behind her, Joy continued on. Deeper and deeper into the woods, until the sun wished the sky goodnight and poured pinks, oranges and yellows into the clouds.

A small fire crackled and popped, providing a small but necessary source of warmth. Nothing but some oak leaves and the clothes she had arrived in, came between her and the brisk night.

Joy knew the forest was always watching her, assessing her, deciding if she was strong enough to return home. Joy knew she did not belong in the modern realm, her home lived within the fables her sister told her.

May had used the word “Changeling.”

Her sister theorised that the fae brought their sickly infants to the modern realm to see if they could survive the journey back or parish. May had studied the tales, and her wisdom now paved the way for her sister's return.

As Joy covered herself in oak leaves, she searched for that little voice inside herself, it’s the strength inside you that counts. She clung onto those word as

As a chill ran down her spine. Joy wrapped her arms around her body and shut her eyes tightly. Joy listened to the stubborn flame, still burning despite the wind. As the world became nothing but midnight, Joy held tightly to that little flame inside her. She could survive this, even with nothing more than the sleeping magic she felt in her heart coursed within her veins.

The sun had not graced the sky yet, and the nighttime critters were just making their way to their dens and borrows. Joy had gathered some dandelions, acorns and wild berries, with the plan to be continuing on the trail by first sunlight.

A crunch sounded from the coals of her smouldering fire. Joy whipped her head only to be met with another sort of flame, a red fox met her gaze.

Joy forced calmness to wash over her. Tried to soothe the uneasiness that rose in her stomach. For Joy had known eyes had been upon her since she arrived.

“Hello Watcher,” she said.

The fox seemed to almost nod.

“I am the bringer of joy,” Joy stated.

Names hold power, it’s not who you are but what you are, May’s words echoed in her head.

The Watcher didn’t break Joy’s stare, as if hearing the echoing words too.

“Are you going to follow me to the river? Watch and welcome me home?”

The fox didn’t respond, but still it held her gaze.

It happened in a heartbeat—red lit the brush in a temporary flame and then the Watcher was gone.

Joy instinctively reached for her locket, a final gift from May.

“To the river, then,” she muttered as she continued down the dirt trail.

After what felt like countless hours, Joy found the path had taken her to what she believed was a border that could easily be mistaken as an ordinary meadow. The trees on the other side appeared larger and many trees were in full bloom with bright green and red leaves. Unnoticeable to the untrained eye, the flowers even seemed brighter in colour and smelled of spiced perfume.

May had discovered drawings from old fable books about how nature slowly changes from border to border, from realm to realm. As if to confirm her theory, a familiar small red flame came running throughout the meadows' tall grass, not wanting to miss as Joy entered the fae forest.

As soon as Joy crossed from the meadow, the bright afternoon sky became cluttered with dark clouds and the world above her had begun to roar.

Before she could decide where to seek shelter, Joy felt gnawing at her shoe. The fox met her gaze again only for a moment before taking off. But this time it waited and turned back, signalling for Joy to follow. As another roar rattled the tree tops, Joy didn’t question the red fox as she followed her to what she hoped was shelter.

A small cave is where the fox had led her right as the sky began to cry. Another thunderous April shower had approached. Now that she had crossed the meadow, Joy

believed even if the rain created new temporary streams, she could reach the Crossing River before dusk the next day. She pulled out a handful of leftover berries and offered some to the Watcher. The fox stared at the berries for a long moment before accepting.

“Thank you for leading me here.” Joy said

The Watcher stared back out towards the rain in dismissal, as if not grasping the gratitude she felt.

“When May was sick, she told me so many stories of you and the fae. She researched every text she could find, and I now know why. She wants me to return home, I feel it.”

Lightning cracked somewhere close, light flickering against the walls of the cave.

“She knew what I was, and loved me anyway. May prepared me for all of this.”

The Watcher didn’t even look away from the rain, lost in thought.

Joy let out an exhausted sigh, crawled a little deeper into the cave and thought of the older sister who had loved her endlessly. She drifted off with the hope she would see May again, even if just in her dreams.

If it wasn’t for the chirping birds, Joy may never have known dawn had arrived. The forest floor was no more than a sheet of fog, and it felt as though the rain had put the forest into an enchanted slumber, but had awoken something else. Joy turned to the Watcher, who also was just awakening.

“Do you feel it?” she whispered.

The Watcher tilted its head. “I feel as though eyes are watching me.”

The Watcher tilted its head even lower, meeting Joy’s gaze then looking slightly beyond her. When she turned around, her stomach sank.

A skull, what appeared to have once been a deer, laid on a rock next to the cave. Barely visible with the fog partially consuming it.

“They know I’m here.” It was more of a statement than a question.

But the Watcher still inclined its head forward in answer.

“Take me to the river.”

A distant roar answered.

The Crossing River wasn’t far from the cave at all. After the summoning roar, the Watcher had guided Joy up some small, but steep dirt hills.

By the time they reached the top of the final hill, Joy had a thick layer of sweat covering her forehead.

Maybe it was due to the exhaustion that the stream below only sparked feelings of joy, there was no fear, nervousness or hesitation for what lay ahead.

Joy quickly made her way down the hill, and it wasn’t until she took her shoes off and was about to dip her toes into the water that she realized the Watcher never came down that final hill with her.

The red fox now would only witness her crossing. She was prepared for the final steps into the stream. The forest appeared ordinary, but yet Joy was certain more than just the Watchers' eyes were on her. She lifted her fingers to the locket she had kept close to her heart. A gift from a sister who left her too soon.

May had always been a sickly child, and when her fight was over, Joy knew it was time to return to her realm.

As soon as her toes touched the frigid water, another roar shook the trees on the other side.

A large black bear appeared from the tree line and started stalking right towards Joy. She suspected this bear was not all it seemed, as May had told her that fae royalty could shift into top predators.

This was the final test to prove her strength. Knowledge is what kept Joy standing there with her head up high. The bear kept approaching until it was only a few feet away. Then it met her gaze and with a small flash of light, shifted into what Joy believed had to be a handsome fae prince.

He was tall, pale and had very sharp, dark features. If Joy was being honest she preferred the gaze of the bear instead, for this prince looked at her with too much wild amusement in his eyes.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“I bring Joy.”

“Smart girl.” He laughed. “Who titled you?”

“My sister, the season of May.”

“What was her name?”

Joy hesitated, the first thing May had taught her was that names held power. Which is why she changed her name from Maryan to May when she was sixteen years old. But you can have no power over the dead.

“Maryan,” Joy said with hesitation.

“Maryan,” the prince repeated.

Then he gazed up towards the hill and said almost to himself, “interesting. Normally humans only ever give themselves names, not titles.”

Joy lifted her chin. “I’m here to return to my realm.”

The prince's laughter made Joy’s stomach drop.

“You were already in your realm,” he said. He turned then as if to walk away.

Joy took a step toward him. “You are mistaken. I’m a changeling, I belong here.” Joy said firmly.

“Is that what you believe?” the prince asked in real amusement.

Joy couldn’t bring herself to reply.

“May was a changeling, readying herself for her journey home. But that Watcher, ever-meddling, told her of our plans to switch you with a sickened fae child, and so she struck a bargain.” His eyes narrowed. “All to save your human life.”

Joy’s world stilled.

“She died so that you could live. But now you’re here regardless. You’ll stay, and I’ll send that changeling in your place.”

Joy heaved, but there was nothing for her stomach to expel. May died so Joy wouldn’t have been changed.

“Let me offer you a bargain,” said Joy. “To honour May’s sacrifice.”

“What could you possibly offer me?”

Joy hesitated, then reached down her shirt and pulled out the chain which held her beloved locket. She unclasped it from her neck, then held it out before her.

Caught on a wind, the locket sprang from her fingers and flew across the gap between them. The fae caught it, then held it up to examine each detail in its surface.

His brows drew together as he said, “this locket for your life. How poetic.”

“It’s all I have left of her,” Joy explained.

“I accept,” he said. With a small flash and without another word, he shifted back into a bear and headed in the same direction he came.

Joy looked back towards the hill, the Watcher was gone. Had bared witness to the events that unfolded, then vanished.

Alone, Joy started the journey back home.

OF FAE AND FEAR
Short Story ©2026 by Christina Barfoot, St. Catharines, Ont.

Piper was an extraordinarily ordinary child. At her age of ten, she was precisely at the developmental level the tutors of the village could have hoped for her. She could read well, write fine, and had a vivid imagination like any child of her age.

People always said she looked like her mother, which as Piper grew older she wasn’t quite sure if they meant this as a good thing or not. She thought mother was pretty, but mother always scowled at herself in the mirror and said aloud that her face was too fat and her hair too dull. Frequently, the young girl saw her mom applying heavy layers of balms and powders to her features and was wondering if she needed to use that stuff too.

Piper was polite. This was to the relief of the village, which was too full of troublemakers according to her father. She used “please” and “thank you” appropriately, and never gorged herself on second helpings of dinner before everyone else had their fill.

It was precisely this ordinariness that, when Piper’s mother and father needed to take a whole wagon of wheat from their fields to the market one night, they left their child behind without complaint. Piper was used to it, but what she wasn’t used to was waiting hours past when the night fell for them to return.

Her stomach gurgled, but had always been told not to touch the stores of food they had in their pantries. So instead, she made her way to the front of the house and pulled on her boots. She grabbed her wool sweater from the hook, her favourite one that was already getting too small, and pulled it over her pretty cream dress. She smoothed down her curls that her mother always told her were too frizzy, and opened the latch of the front door.

The air had a slight autumn crisp to it. She drew in a long breath and smiled up at the bright stars that littered the sky. Then, pinching her dress between her fingers, she hopped off the two stone steps that led down to the cobbled road.

It was a bit of a trek to get to her neighbour’s house, but she’d gone many times before. Her mom didn’t like her to go, calling the old woman strange, but Piper liked her fine.

When Piper arrived at Mrs. Fickle’s house, she knocked three times and took a step back. After a few moments, the door swung inward.

“Why hello, Piper dear,” Mrs. Fickle said, opening her door wide and waving the young girl inside. “What can I do for you tonight?”

Windchimes tinkled softly around them, the sound a comfort to the young girl.

Mrs. Fickle was an old woman, marked by years’ worth of wrinkles and wisdom. Her eyes were dark and heavy with a thousand stories, but her thin mouth was always turned up in a smile. Right now Mrs. Fickle’s grey hair hung loose covering her ears and she wore her simple nightclothes.

The little girl named Piper stepped inside and wrung her hands together nervously. Mrs Fickle gently closed the door behind her and, with a guiding hand placed on Piper’s back, led her into the living area.

While Piper explained her situation, Mrs. Fickle listened closely. She nodded along, asked questions where appropriate, and finally, only after Piper was finished speaking, said, “well then, I suppose we’ll just have to have dinner together. How does tea and bread sound?”

“That sounds delicious,” Piper said with a grin. Then, she added quickly, “thank you.”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

While Mrs. Fickle busied herself in her kitchen, Piper waited politely on the couch. She liked Mrs. Fickle’s house a lot. Everywhere she looked there were things. The most lovely trinkets and books filled old dusty shelves, herbs and flowers hung drying on the walls, and paintings hung all around. It was nothing like her house, where her mother always said it had to stay “spick and span” in case guests arrived at a moment’s notice.

The fireplace crackled to Piper’s right, and she carefully took off her sweater, folded it, and placed it on the cushion beside herself. Mrs. Fickle’s house was always warm, even in the dead of winter, and not only just when company was over.

“Here you go, dear,” Mrs. Fickle said, placing a tray on the table in front of Piper. As Piper looked at the display of food, she smiled when she saw a slab of goat’s cheese amongst the bread and pears.

The older woman sat down on the chair across from Piper, which was patchy and frayed.

“Thank you so much,” she gushed, and waited for Mrs. Fickle to pour her a cup of tea and grab a piece of bread for herself before taking a slice.

The loaf was still warm and sticky when Piper took a bite with some of the goat’s cheese. It was the most divine thing she had ever tasted. She chewed for as long as she could then swallowed, the lump hitting her stomach with a hard thump. She took a sip of her tea, wanting to pace herself. It was all she’d eaten all day, and she knew from experience that she shouldn’t eat a big meal too quickly.

“Would you like me to tell you a story?” Mrs. Fickle asked.

Piper nodded, unable to hide her enthusiasm. Part of the reason why she loved going to Mrs. Fickle’s house so much were her stories.

Mrs. Fickle nodded, cleared her throat, and began.

“There are fae in the woods beyond the wall.” All of her stories started that same way. “Fae that are tall beasts with super quick reflexes and a desire for human flesh. I think you’re old enough, girl, to hear just how close these creatures live. When our ancestors drove the fae out of our lands and put up the wall, I told you that they were pushed back beyond the mountains. But some of them live just outside the wall, almost within reach..

“My mother told me when I was a girl, who’d heard it from her elders, that a boy went missing over that wall once. For three years he was lost, and everyone assumed he’d been taken by wolves or swept up by the river. But three years later he returned, and he looked the exact same age as the day that he’d left.”

A chill went down Piper’s spine, but she grabbed herself another slice of bread and cheese and continued to listen.

“He told his parents that he had met a fae with the most stunning features, and this fae had asked for his name. The boy had given it to them, but the fae had used the name against him! With the boy’s name, the fae was able to command the boy to stop aging, to never return home. The fae had complete power over the boy, and said that he would serve the fae for the rest of eternity. But the boy was able to escape.” Mrs. Fickle paused to take a sip of her own tea.

“How did he escape?” Piper blurted out, but then bit down on her tongue. “I’m sorry for interrupting.”

“That’s quite alright.” Mrs. Fickle chuckled and set down her cup. “He asked the fae to play a game. Fae love games, you know, and couldn’t resist. So the boy said to the fae, ‘let us play a game, and if I win then I get one wish. And if you win, then I will never again complain and be the perfect servant’. The fae agreed before hearing what the boy’s game would be, but they weren’t worried. After all, fae are faster, quicker, smarter. The only thing they fear truly is fire. They don’t like the colour red, either, as it reminds them of fire. So the boy challenged the fae to a fire-building contest. The fae was furious, but they were bound by their word, and thus had to compete. The boy, though it took him a long time to strike the rock just right to get a spark and build it into a flame, won. He wished for his name back, and was able to run back to the village.”

“And this happened right outside the wall?” Piper asked with a shudder. Her parents’ house was only one street away from the wall.

“Yes,” Mrs. Fickle said seriously. “But don’t you worry, you need only stick by your parents and do as the village says. Keep your wits, don’t go near the wall, and don’t tell the fae your name. That way, they can’t get you.”

“That’s a lot of rules to remember,” Piper said, already imagining being commanded by a fae to do whatever they say. It sounded scary.

Mrs. Fickle thought for a moment, then reached down into a basket by the foot of her chair. She fumbled around for a moment, then drew from it a ball of red ribbon. She unraveled a short amount, about the length of a forearm, and cut it with a pair of shears.

The older woman held out the piece of ribbon for Piper to take. “Weave this into your hair, girl, and the fae will not bother you. Its colour of red will protect you, of this I am sure.”

Piper accepted the gift graciously. The ribbon was soft, like silk, and about two fingers wide. Watching it softly flicker in the light of the fire put her at ease, and she couldn’t wait to put it in her hair.

“I cannot believe you went to that woman’s house again last night,” Piper’s mother shouted that next morning. She was holding the red ribbon, as Piper had asked her to braid it into her hair before leaving for her brunch with the other ladies in the village. “How many times have I told you to stay away?”

“Mrs. Fickle is nice,” Piper replied in a small voice. “She gave me tea, bread, and cheese.”

Piper’s mother groaned and rubbed a hand along her face. “You ate there too? Don’t you understand what this means?”

Piper shook her head.

The older woman’s face pinched tight. “Now we have to invite her over for tea as well. She’ll probably expect payment for the ribbon too. You understand we don’t have a lot of money, yes?”

“I understand.” The small girl looked down at her toes. “I’m sorry, mama.”

Her mother sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to deal with it. Come here.”

After a few minutes, Piper’s hair was finished. Her thick curls were tied back in a single braid along her back, the red ribbon woven in and out. She’d donned herself in a faded pink dress, as in her mind pink was almost the same as red, and a little extra protection might help.

As Piper’s mother got ready to leave, Piper brought her two most prized dolls to her and asked if, perhaps, later that night she could play with her.

“I don’t have time,” said her mother. “In fact, I don’t have time for you at all today. Your father and I are tired, so please get out of our hair for the day. But do not go to Mrs. Fickle’s house, do you understand? Be mama’s good little girl.”

Piper nodded. She knew her father was tired, as he hadn’t yet gotten out of bed. Her parents had come home the night before in a sour mood and, without saying a word to Piper about their day, had gone straight to bed.

The little girl grabbed her dolls and her favourite wool sweater then left her house for the day.

Piper played with her dolls, who she’d named Dolly and Princess. She’d had Dolly longer, since she was a young baby, so she was her favourite. Dolly wore a pink dress and, though she was missing one of her button eyes, Piper loved to play with the long strands of yarn hair that flowed from the crown of her head. Princess was the same, though she wore a blue dress. Princess was unique in that, when her parents gave her the doll on her seventh birthday, her father had twisted a few strands of straw together to fashion a tiny tiara that sat on curly red yarn hair. Piper had perfected a way to get Princess’ tiara to sit in her hair without falling off.

Piper played down the roads of her village, wandering aimlessly with her two dolls. The game of pretend quickly morphed into a battle between two sisters as they argued who had better powers.

The little girl stopped dead in her tracks when she reached the village’s edge. It was strange being here. She’d come a few times as a child with her parents, but always clutched their hands tightly as she was told the history of the wall.

Now, it loomed over her. A towering pile of stones that seemed to stretch all the way into the sky. She looked from left to right, and she noticed a gate far down.

Piper tucked both dolls under one arm and ran a hand along her hair, feeling the red ribbon secured in there. She took one deep breath, two, and stepped up to the wall. She placed a hand against it, feeling the cool cobble beneath her skin.

It wasn’t so scary, she realized, as she sank into the grass and took out her two dolls.

“This is the edge of my kingdom,” Piper said in Princess’ high-pitched voice. “Yet you are still one of my citizens. Bow to me, sister!”

“I am your greatest soldier,” Dolly’s lower-pitched voice declared. “I have lost an eye fighting your battles, I deserve a little respect!”

“Are you talking to yourself?”

The strange voice startled Piper and she stood up. She looked around, but couldn’t see anyone around her. “Who said that?” she asked the air.

“Me,” the stranger said again, and Piper turned her gaze to the wall. It was coming from beyond the stones. The voice sounded young and feminine, very similar to Piper.

“You’re on the other side of the wall?” Piper asked, just to be sure.

“You’re on the other side of the wall,” the voice replied. “Are you playing make-believe?”

Piper looked down at her two dolls, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. “I was playing with my dolls, Dolly and Princess.”

“Really? Can I play with you?”

Piper thought for a moment. If this was a human girl, why was she on the other side of the wall? But she’d never heard of a little girl fae before. “Are you a fae?”

The voice laughed. It sounded like the windchimes Mrs. Fickle kept on her front porch. “Why yes I am! And you’re a human, right?”

“Yes. I’m ten,” said Piper.

“I don’t get to play with kids my age very often, and if you have two dolls, couldn’t I play with you for a little while?”

Piper knew that fae were supposed to be bad, but this one was just like her; a little girl. Her parents were always telling her to make more friends her age. Plus, Piper had the red ribbon in her hair, which was meant to protect her. Maybe, if she didn’t go too far from the wall, it would be fine.

“Okay,” Piper agreed. “Meet me at the gate.”

She looked around to make sure no grown-ups were watching, then skipped to the large redwood gate.

“I want to warn you that I am wearing a red ribbon in my hair,” Piper said as she lifted the large lock that kept the gate closed. “So don’t try eating me or anything.”

“I would never eat you,” the girl’s voice said with a hint of indignancy. “I’m a vegetarian.”

Piper pushed the gate open slightly, then slid through, both of her dolls clutched in her one hand. She closed the gate behind herself, as the gate could be opened from either side.

When she turned to the forest, she was first captivated by the view before her. She’d never before seen such greenery. There was a short area of lush green field, and beyond that was the most magical forest she had ever seen in her life. No amount of stories could have prepared her for how vibrant and beautiful it all was.

Then, her eyes landed on the other little girl and her mouth dropped open. The other girl had wings! The wings reminded Piper of a moth; white and brown and super fluffy. They looked incredibly soft, but Piper refrained from asking to touch them as she didn’t want to offend the new girl. This fae had glittering pale skin, pointed ears, and short blonde hair. Unlike Piper, she wore a white shirt tucked into brown pants with a green belt tied around her waist.

“Hello,” Piper croaked out.

“Hi!” the other girl said, and Piper caught a glimpse of two rows of razor-sharp teeth. “What’s your name?”

Piper froze. Despite the red ribbon in her hair, she wasn’t yet sure if she could trust this new friend. “I’m not supposed to tell you my name,” she said. “Then you’d have power over me.”

The other girl tilted her head to the side, thinking. “I suppose that’s true. With your name, I could call you from across the field and you would turn to look. Or scold you sternly like a parent does.” She crossed her arms over her chest and thought some more. “What if I tell you my name first? Then when you tell me yours, we’d have equal power over each other!”

Piper bit her bottom lip, running her hand again through her hair to make sure the ribbon was still there. She couldn’t remember what Mrs. Fickle had said about this sort of situation, but the girl’s suggestion sounded logical. “That could work. You go first.”

“My name is Fir,” the fae said, stepping forward and holding out her hand to shake.

“Fur? Like on a cat?” Piper shook the girl’s hand, and thought maybe it was because her wings looked like they had fur on them. “That’s weird.”

“No, Fir, like the tree,” Fir said, waving a hand toward the forest. “I told you my name, now what’s yours?”

“Piper,” she said.

Fir grinned. “As in, one who plays the pipe?”

Piper shrugged. “I don’t know, my parents named me that.”

“Now that we know each other’s names,” Fir declared, “we can be friends! Do you want to play dolls in the woods with me Piper? I can show you all my favourite places.”

Piper agreed, and handed over Princess to her new friend. Then, together, they entered the forest.

All day long the pair played together. Piper thought it was great to play dolls with someone else, as she could move both of Dolly’s arms at once to make her even more expressive. Fir was really good at doing Princess’ voice and expressed admiration over the two dolls, saying they were very beautiful.

Fir made good on her promise to show Piper all of her favourite places and things within the forest.

First was the river stream, where Fir showed Piper the small fishes who swam though. Piper had never seen alive fish before, only ever the food which was brought back if her parents had a successful market. Their scales glittered in the sun spots that peered through the leaves above. They were much more pretty this way.

Fir then showed Piper the nearby bunny burrow, which was home to many baby bunnies born only a few days prior. Piper had gone to pet them, but Fir grabbed her hand and sternly told her not to disturb them, as it made the parents upset. Piper nodded seriously, understanding.

For lunch, the pair stopped under a tall pear tree. Fir used her wings to fly up and pick some of the juiciest pears from the branches above, and Piper marveled at the action. Fir couldn’t fly for very long or go very high, but Piper couldn’t even fly at all, so she thought even a little bit of flying was the greatest thing ever.

The two sat down, dolls on their laps, and ate their pears. Piper felt incredibly happy, and shared this with her new friend.

“You’re welcome in my forest anytime,” Fir said to her. “It gets lonely sometimes.”

“Aren’t there other fae your age?” Piper asked.

Fir shook her head. “Not around here anyway.”

“I should get going home soon, though,” Piper said with a sad sigh. “Or else my parents will worry.”

“I understand. Once we’re done eating I’ll show you the way back. But you’ll return one day soon, right Piper? So we can play dolls more?”

“Yes,” said Piper, holding up Dolly. “Their stories are not yet finished.”

After they were finished eating and buried the pear cores to hopefully get more trees to grow, Fir showed her back to the wall.

Now, looking from the outside in, Piper noticed the wall didn’t look so big after all. It was rather small actually, and she couldn’t believe why the humans ever wanted to separate themselves from the fae in the first place.

“Goodbye,” Piper said, waving to her new friend while holding both dolls. “I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon!” Fir flashed her a sharp-toothed grin, which now looked a lot less scary.

Piper slid back in through the gate, and skipped all the way home.

When Piper entered through her house’s front door, she wasn’t expecting her mother and father to be laughing in the kitchen together.

She inched her way through the house, delighted by the sound of happiness. Her parents hadn’t noticed her yet, but when she sat down at the dinner table, she watched them laugh and joke and dance together while making a pot of soup.

“Oh, Piper, you’re home!” her mother said with a large smile that Piper hadn’t seen in a very long time. She whistled as she grabbed three bowls from the cupboard and set them each down on the table, one in front of Piper. “Just in time. Go wash up in the basin, dear.”

“Yes mama.”

Piper realized this day couldn’t get any better. She’d met a new magical friend and now her parents were in the best mood she’d ever seen them.

“It’s so good to feel productive for once,” her mother said to her father, who sat down at the head of the table. “I mean, I got so much done today that I’d been putting off.”

As Piper washed up in the basin, she felt a sense of sadness wash over her. Her mom was happy because she was able to get stuff done, all because Piper wasn’t home. Was she being home all this time making it so that her parents were unhappy?

“I got all the laundry washed and hung out on the line,” the older woman went on, using a ladle to spoon servings of soup into each bowl. “I did some cleaning and had brunch with the girls while you were gone.”

“It was a good day at the market too,” her father said. “Folks must be wanting to stock up on wheat before winter.”

Piper slid into her spot at the table and listened to her parents talking as if she wasn’t there. She lifted her spoon with a heap of vegetables, and blew on it carefully. Then, she popped it into her mouth.

It was delicious, but not nearly as tasty as the pears in the woods. Those had been perfectly ripe and juicy, the right balance of sweet and tart.

“What did you do today?” Piper’s mother finally asked her near the end of the meal. “Did you have fun playing with your toys?”

“Yeah,” Piper said. “I met a new friend.”

“A new friend?” her father asked, his brows raising. “Who’s this?”

“Her name is Fir,” Piper said. “She lives beyond the wall. She’s a fae, and she’s really nice.”

Her parents went completely silent, her mother’s spoon halfway to her mouth.

“They’re not evil,” Piper went on. Maybe if they realized that the fae weren’t as evil as the stories, that there are nice fae, she could invite Fir over to her house one day. If her mother ever allowed it.

“You went beyond the wall?” her father asked.

“Yes, but only because I had the red ribbon in my hair,” Piper said, her heart racing now. “We played dolls together, and—”

“Piper, go to your room,” her mother said, her voice a deadly calm.

“But—”

“Now!” her mother bellowed, bringing her fist down upon the table and rattling the bowls and cutlery.

Piper stood and, with her head hanging low, shuffled into her bedroom. She thought her parents might come in after her, sit her down, and tell her why what she did was wrong. Then, Piper thought, she might be able to tell them all the wonderful things about her new friend Fir.

But the moment she stepped into her bedroom, the door slammed shut behind her. She heard the familiar sound of a key locking the door, and she was trapped.

Piper’s room was small, but it could fit a bed, vanity, and small dresser. Piper sat down on her bed, the scratchy sheets rubbing against her legs.

She’d done something wrong, but she couldn’t imagine that it was that big of a deal to go beyond the wall. She had the red ribbon in her hair, and if only all adults wore the red ribbons, then perhaps all fae and people could get along.

Piper went to sleep, and she dreamt of having great purple butterfly wings to fly high in the sky alongside Fir.

Piper stayed locked in that room all night. Then the morning came, and she heard her parents leave. Probably for the market, which meant they wouldn’t be back until night at least.

Except, nighttime came and went, and still no sign of her parents.

When the second morning came, Piper was so hungry her stomach had stopped making noises altogether. She’d cried and cried until there were no tears left, then was left with a splitting headache that made her vision go blurry.

She began to claw at the door and the window, trying to get out. She called out for Mrs. Fickle, anyone, but her house was so far away from all the others that nobody could hear her.

Finally, on that second evening, she was able to break the lock on her window and heave it up. Except the window was so heavy that it kept falling back down, so she shoved one of her pillows into the gap and had to squeeze through.

As she wiggled through the gap, she felt her hair snag on a loose nail in the windowframe. She tugged and tugged, and finally she came free. She fell out of the window on the other side, landing in one of her mother’s pretty gardens.

Then, she started to run. She didn’t have time to think about how she’d left Dolly and Princess behind, she just needed to get to somewhere she knew would be safe.

She fled for the wall, and once she reached the gate, pushed her way through. Piper ran into those woods, and she was never seen again.

When her parents finally returned home, feeling guilty over leaving their daughter in such an anger, all that was left of her was a soft red ribbon hanging from a loose nail in the windowframe.

FAMILY, BOYFRIEND, VOLUNTEERS
Poem ©2026 Ashley M. Price, North Collins, NY

My heart spills over, a happy sound, For you, my love, on solid ground. Your hand in mine, a perfect fit, My truest joy, you light my wit.
Then family's warmth, a cozy fire, A burning love that lifts me higher. Through thick and thin, they hold me near, Wiping away each doubt and fear. My band, our music, soul ablaze, A brotherhood in sonic haze. Notes that connect, a joyful ride, A second family, side by side. The pantry calls, a humble place, Where helping hands leave smiles on face. With volunteers, we share our day, Love in action, come what may. These loves entwine, a tapestry, Of happiness meant just for me. My heart is full, my spirit bright,
Bathed in love's unending light.

BLOWING SNOW

In the far north or the far south,

A sight often seen during winter months,

Interestingly, bringing a silence like no other,

Until the sound of the blowing starts, with the help of light to heavy winds.

Across the blanketed land in the season of white,

Insulating all connected to the ground from the season’s cold,

For as long as the cold winds continue to blow,

Occasionally, a short chinook melt or two treats an area.

When there are months of what seems to be continual falling or blowing snow,

Which brings depths of snow that causes challenges for many,

Those at home or at work, on a mountain, in a valley or on the prairie,

Finding options to clear the paths, yards, roads, parking lots and sidewalks too.

The gratitude of all, in town and country for them that invented all the snow removal options,

Every shovel ~ ergonomical or not, for the areas blowers can’t and those with the ability of mobility,

Walk behinds, tractors with blowers to other giant machines keep areas open for business,

Opening and helping all at home, in homes, on farms, businesses, and traveling.

These snow removal tools have given options,

The opportunity of side or seasonal jobs for financial benefit for many, of various ages,

But cash not always needed to be exchanged ~ treats, a drink, a meal or other creative gesture,

Neighbours reaching out helping neighbours ~ just because!

“Like snowflakes, the human pattern is never cast twice.” ~ Unknown