The fairy tree

When I was thirteen, my brother Elijah and I helped Grandpa down to the old oak, so that he could talk to the fairies for the last time.

He was losing the fight against old age - his hair was wispy and white as bone, skin liver-spotted and sallow. In previous years, he had insisted on making the journey alone every month, but his worsening arthritis had forced him to grudgingly accept our assistance. We held him up by his twig-thin arms, and made our way to the edge of our land, just before the crumbling stone wall that separated it from the woods beyond.

“No further.” He said. “They don’t like other folks getting too close.”

“But-”

“Remember what I told you, Elijah. No exceptions.”

He relented, and handed Grandpa his walking stick and a covered wicker-basket. We watched as he hobbled towards the ancient tree, and ducked into its hollow trunk. The shadows quickly obscured him from view.

I frowned up at Elijah. Although I knew, rationally, that he was five years my senior, it was still frustrating that adults spoke to him about things which were kept secret from me.

“What did Grandpa tell you?”

He sighed. “You’ll know when it's your turn to know, Ray.”

I pouted. As far as cryptic responses went, that was pretty standard for our family. I’d long learned to stop expecting anyone to give actual answers, but I figured it was worth asking anyway.

Elijah smiled, and ruffled my hair.

“Hey, did you know that trees are really only alive on the outside?”

“Really?”

“Mhmm. Eventually, all the dead wood inside gets eaten away by worms and fungi, and you get left with a hollow tree. They’re great homes for woodland animals.”

“Like the fairies?”

“Well, they aren’t really animals, but I suppose so.”

We waited in silence for a while. Grandpa had started speaking, his voice barely audible from within the tree, words indistinct.

“Have you ever seen them?” I asked, finally.

“Yeah… after Dad’s funeral. He left them an offering. I had to deliver it.”

“What were they like?”

He considered for a moment.

“Like stars. And bugs. And the morning dew. And autumn leaves and spring blossoms.”

My brow furrowed as my brain tried to piece together the disparate images in a way which made sense. Elijah chuckled.

“It only makes sense once you actually see them.”

When Grandpa emerged from the tree, about fifteen minutes later, he looked shaken. It looked as if he had aged another decade, if that was somehow possible for the centenarian. Elijah shared a worried look with me, but none of us commented on it.

“Take care of this place well.” He whispered as we helped him back home.

Two weeks later, he passed away in his sleep.

​

The funeral was small - he had not had many surviving friends or close family. He left most of his things, including the property, to Elijah, who also became my legal guardian.

Life continued. I started and finished high school, made new friends and lost contact with old ones. Throughout it all, Elijah visited the tree every month without fail, much as Grandpa had done.

As I grew older, my belief in anything supernatural had begun to wane, and by the time I moved away for college I had pretty much convinced myself that the whole thing was just some weird family tradition.

Shortly after the start of summer break, Elijah asked me to house-sit for a couple of weeks while he was away on some important business trip.

“Oh- and remember, you’ll need to go visit the fairies on the new moon - on the twenty-ninth. Okay?”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure thing.”

“No. Ray, I’m serious.” He held my gaze for a few seconds, then sighed. “Look - even if you think it's silly. Please, just humour me?”

“Alright. I will.” I said, with greater sincerity. “What do I have to do?”

“It's June… bring some gooseberries, strawberries and currants. Make sure they’re organic and fresh - you can get some from the farmers’ market on saturdays. Put a couple handfuls of each into a woven basket - you can find them in the shed - and leave it inside their tree. Then wait until they accept the offering, and leave. Okay?”

“Cool.”

Elijah smiled, and squeezed my shoulder.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to contact me. Don’t do anything dangerous. See you later.”

And with that, I was left on my own in the house.

My stay was mostly uneventful. The peace and quiet allowed me to blitz through my summer assignments within the first week, and I spent the rest of my time catching up on sleep and reading. The place felt just as warm and homey as it had in my childhood, but was tinged with a nostalgic sadness. I hadn’t known my parents very well, but I had been close with my grandparents, and to me this house was inextricably linked with them.

I decided I may as well follow through with Elijah’s instructions. While I may not have personally believed it, the strange ritual had clearly been important to Elijah and to Grandpa. So when the twenty-ninth came, I went to the edge of the property with my basket of summer berries in hand. They weren’t from the farmers’ market, but I reckoned they'd be alright. It's not like anything was going to happen anyways.

Yet despite my convictions, I could not help but feel some slight apprehension as I stood before that old oak. It had been raining for the last few days, and clusters of toadstools surrounded its gnarled base. They were massive, some caps larger than my hand, and looked like something out of a picture book; bright red, with white spots and a slender white stalk. Even though I was no mycologist, I could tell these were probably poisonous, and took care to avoid touching them as I entered the hollow trunk of the ancient tree.

Three things hit me immediately. The first was the darkness. It was like a switch had been thrown. The opening was visible behind me, but the light seemed to hover on the threshold, refusing to enter the space beyond. The second was the silence - all sounds from outside faded to nothing as I entered, leaving me suddenly alone with the blood rushing through my ears and my breathing, which suddenly seemed too loud. The third was the air, which was damp and smelled of life, like a forest after a rainstorm.

I took a few tentative steps forwards - the space seemed surprisingly large - and placed the basket down. Now what? Elijah had told me to wait for the offering to be accepted, but-

A thousand tiny lights appeared in the darkness around me. I was reminded of pictures of remote places at night where, in the absence of light pollution, stars crowded the sky. I let out an audible gasp.

In fascination and disbelief, I watched as the lights - the fairies - swarmed around me. Their forms were mercurial, at times like glowing insects, at others more like orbs of light, or like tiny radiant flowers. I looked on for a moment, enraptured, as they flew around the inside of the tree, examining me as well as the basket.

But something was wrong. The movement of the lights became frantic, agitated, and some began to blink on and off rapidly. Suddenly the whole display seemed less magical and more threatening.

This will not do.

The words sprang into my mind directly, and angrily buzzed around inside my skull. I took a few involuntary steps back, and clutched my head.

“What’s wrong with it?”

Was no instruction given to you? It was agreed that the offering was to be without contamination.

“Contamination, what are you on about? Are you really that fussy about it being organic?”

Furthermore, your attitude leaves much to be desired. Consider yourself fortunate that we are merciful. We shall take only something physical as our retribution.

“No, you aren’t taking anything.” I turned to make my exit, only to find it blocked by a wall of flickering lights. My heart began to pound in my chest.

The agreement was clear. Any infraction on the part of either party will result in immediate, swift retribution on part of the other, with escalating severity for each subsequent infraction.

“W-what is that supposed to mean? I-I don’t know about any agreement.”

Laws apply whether you know them or not. Do not attempt to obstruct our justice, or we will take more than just your fingernail.

“M-my fingernail? What the fuck!”

If I had been concerned before, I was in full on panic mode now. Wasn’t fingernail removal a form of torture? I doubt they cared.

In hindsight, it was extremely stupid of me to try to run. They had made their warning clear. But I panicked, and my animal brain defaulted to a flight response.

I didn’t get very far. The fairies swarmed me like a cloud of wasps, except with far more coordination and efficiency. There was a sharp pain in my left hand. A large group of the creatures were working in unison, and had pulled out my pinky fingernail. I think I must have screamed, but it was drowned out by the horrific ringing that filled my mind.

You could have made this so much easier.

And then the fairies kept pulling, and pulling, as I writhed and tried to crawl away in agony, until there was a sickeningly wet pop, accompanied by the sound of tearing flesh. I became aware of blood running down my hand, then the pressure in my head became too much, and everything went dark.

​

So. That was it. The story of how one tiny mistake cost me a finger.

Despite the fact that I felt it getting ripped off, the wound was actually pretty clean and neat, and had stopped bleeding by the time I woke up. I guess they didn’t want to accidentally take more than they were due. If I look on the bright side, I guess everything could be taken as a learning experience.

I have no clue how I’m going to explain this whole thing to Elijah in a way that doesn’t end with him beating himself up over the fact that he didn’t instruct me properly - I’ve a feeling that even if he had, my disbelief would have still resulted in me messing something up.

I wonder what they took from Grandpa - and I have no doubt that they did, given the way he looked after his final visit with them. I have a horrible feeling that it was something much worse than just a finger. Perhaps I’ll never know, but I do still wonder. Has Elijah ever gotten on their bad side? I’ll have to ask him.

Be careful around fairies, folks.