Hiding in the Corners: Five Tiny Fairy Stories



  H i d i n g

  in the

  C o r n e r s

  Five Tiny Fairy Stories

  c.l.mANNARINO

  Copyright © 2016 by Caitlin L. Mannarino

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  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted, or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  First Printing: 2016

  ISBN: 978-0-9968759-3-6

  Cover Image: Bigstockphoto.com

  Mannarino Publishing

  www.clmannarino.com

  CLEAN AIR

  She barged into the stuffy, pink, sunlit room, garbage bag in hand. Ignoring the faded purple “A” in “Anna” that fell to the floor when the door rebounded, she whirled on the closet. “Think you can cut me out of your life, Anna?” she asked. She grabbed the first two studded, black shirts she could reach. “I guess you won’t miss any of this shit, then.”

  She tore five shirts from the rack, and then shrieked, grabbing at her pearls. A glowing, blue oval flickered at her from inside the wall. In seconds, the color faded to reveal vibrant pops of color—flowers, she realized—that stretched for miles. Something whirred by on a pair of luminescent wings.

  Leaning close, she traced the edge of the oval, and gasped. Her fingers slipped right in, like there was no difference between her daughter’s room, and this—other place.

  A thrill went through her. She stepped inside, one heel sinking into emerald green grass.

  Clean air surrounded her. The flowers canopied her like trees, casting yellow light onto the ground. A brook wound between their stems. She ventured closer, and then stopped, studying the portal. The sun faded through her daughter’s windows.

  Sighing, she turned back. As she put her foot in, though, it hit a wall.

  A tremor of fear filled her. Straightening, she touched the oval with her palm. It met an invisible solid.

  “What the hell?” she asked. She slammed her fist against it, kicking and screaming, but it never budged.

  Voices twittered behind her. Whirling, she caught three pea-green people, all half her size, hovering inches above the ground. Iridescent wings whirred on their backs. At the sight of her shock, they grinned, flashing forest-green teeth.

  “How do I get out of here?” she asked, forcing herself to stay calm.

  “You don’t,” they said together, with a giggle. “Not that way.”

  She glared at them. “Then how?”

  “Not telling!” they trilled, fluttering off.

  With a shriek, she ran after them. “You’ll get me out, or you’ll regret holding me hostage!” she said, between breaths.

  “Mom?”

  She spun. There, in all her studded glory, stood Anna. “What are you doing here?” she asked, and then held up her hands. “No. First, we’re going to get out of here,” she said, starting towards the door.

  Anna jumped in front of her. “No.”

  Her mom scoffed. “Excuse me?”

  Anna put her hands on her hips. “I won’t get you out unless you promise to let me be my own person. I’m not just your little girl anymore, Mom. You can’t keep me locked up in that little room forever.”

  Stunned, her mom shook her head. “I don’t want to lock you up. I wanted to show you a nice way of—of dressing, and acting, and living that will make people like you better.”

  Anna raised her eyebrows. “The way they like you, you mean?”

  Her mom’s lips pursed, and she averted her gaze.

  Anna leaned closer. “Will you promise to let me go?” she asked.

  Sighing, her mom nodded.

  “Okay,” Anna said, and showed her a door below the portal.

  As they left, her mom caught Anna giving her a small, thankful smile. The air in her room didn’t feel stuffy anymore.

  LOVE, GRANDMA

  No one told me the apartment would be stuffy. I touched the sweaty collar of my grandma’s old shirt, almost missing the safety of my high-necked dress.

  Have courage, like she did.

  As the landlady reentered the room, a thump sounded above my head.

  “Are the upstairs neighbors noisy?” I asked.

  “No one’s up there. The people across the way are loud, though.”

  A chill tickled my back. “I heard something fall up there.”

  The woman’s eyebrows shot to her graying hairline. “That’s news to me, but you can check it out if you want.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and made my careful way upstairs.

  The top floor opened into an attic space with one window on each wall. For all its emptiness, though, there must’ve been someone hanging around. At the other end of the room, a fat book lay on the ground, illuminated by dusty white light.

  Peeking over one shoulder, and then the other, I made my careful way across the creaking, 200-year-old floor. With every step, more dust rose. It covered the hems of my pants—jeans, the first I’d ever worn in my fifteen years of dressing myself—but never once touched the book. By the time I got to the other end of the attic, I felt the press of empty space around me. The hairs on the back of my neck rose, and once again, I wished I’d worn my high-necked dress.

  Who would’ve thought, given how much I fought with my parents about wearing it.

  I bent over the book. Gold lettering across the top read, “Robinson Crusoe.” I couldn’t help smiling.

  Grandma’s favorite.

  Reaching out, I tried to pick it up. It didn’t move.

  Looking around again, in case the landlady, or the noisy neighbors, had decided to play a trick on the new girl, I tightened my grip and lifted. It still didn’t go anywhere. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve said someone had glued it to the floor.

  Impossible. This thing fell right above my head. Now pick it up, you dolt!

  I tried to push it around, or slide it somewhere else. Even then, it wouldn’t go. The only thing I managed to do was to wipe some dust off its cover. Spinning, I checked the space around it. Apart from my footprints, the dust stayed settled, like the book had always been there…

  What on earth is going on?

  No longer afraid of the things that might’ve been lurking behind me, I knelt, and opened it.

  The cover creaked back. Inside, the pages had been glued together. Someone had cut out their center, leaving only a frame of text to surround a tiny metal key lying in the middle. It looked like the one for my grandma’s house.

  “What?” I whispered to the open air. “How is that possible? It made a sizable thump. No key that small, or a book this hollow, makes a noise that loud.” Reaching in, I took the key.

  The whole book lifted, revealing a letter underneath. In looping script, it read, “you can do this. I’m so proud of you. Love, Grandma.”

  My jaw dropped. Tears stung my nose, and flooded my ey
es. Sniffling, I tucked the note into my pocket, and then replaced the book on the floor. “Time to burn that dress,” I said, heading back downstairs.

  LIVING ART

  Meryl dug around in her closet one last time, her stomach growling louder than ever. Over her shoulder, the stack of still-life paintings leaned against the apartment wall, mocking her lack of a piggy bank.

  “Forget painting,” her best friend’s words echoed in her head. “You made more money as a waitress.”

  Grinding her teeth, Meryl yanked out the bottom drawer of her dresser, throwing clothes left and right. “Fuck you. I’ll sell them. I’ll sell every last one, and I’ll never go hungry again.”

  As the last pair of pants flew from the drawer, a CD case tumbled from its folds. Turning it over, she gasped.

  A grainy, naked picture of her friend stared at her. There was no mistaking the girl’s red hair behind the XXX written across her in Black sharpie.

  Is this what I think it is?

  Meryl’s gaze slid to the laptop by her bed. A second later, she shook her head. Rolling to her bedside table, she flicked open her phone and rang her friend’s number.

  “Hey, Rach, it’s Meryl. I—” She paused, and then laughed a little. “I was looking for spare change, and found a CD with a naked picture of you on it. You—know about this, right? It’s fine if you do, but lemme know.”

  She tucked the phone where she could see it, and then picked up the CD case again. With a peek at her door, she popped it open. The picture fell out, landing upside down and revealing a website written on the back. She hesitated, and then pulled her laptop over, entering the