Written by Melody Ong | @wonderbymelo
Rule #2 Never give them your name, you will be enslaved
Fae folks love tricking humans into giving their names because knowing someone’s name gives them power over that person. Many people were made into slaves or brides of the fae just because they were reckless in giving their names. Always give a made-up name or nickname when asked, for not responding is considered rude.
“What’s your name, dear human child?”
I was too frozen to move. Despite my size being larger than the creature who asked me for my name, fear ran through my veins, seeping into my bones. This creature who is the height of my palm with skin glistening a rare sparkling glitter brown in the lightless night and a pair of opalescent wings looked at me with a mischievous smile— showing its pearly white teeth, or would I say, fangs. They do look a lot sharper than what teeth should be.
The beating of its 6 dragonfly-like wings fluttered like a hummingbird’s; in fast, steady strokes as it tried to keep up to my height. Its beady eyes that are black from end to end held stars in them. It was beautiful, so unreal. But for such a beautiful creature, they play with human fear.
My mind screamed at me to run, but my body disobliged. The fae folks are creatures you don’t associate with unless you can outsmart them —but I am just an 8-year-old boy, afraid of the dark and what lurks within— Pixies especially are cunning and mischievous. They are not as beautiful as they seem. They were known to have caused havoc. Burning towns into ashes, stealing livestock, and causing droughts by emptying wells.
Though the pixies rarely come near human settlements, they have once or twice appeared in places where humans dwell to play. The last time a pixie appeared at Grandpa Graham’s clock shop, it turned all the watches and clocks to move backward and they even had the nerve to steal the prettiest clock on the mantle. Poor Grandpa Graham.
The pixie let out a nasty giggle, burying its tiny face into its hands in glee, just like how my little sister does when she tries to play peek-a-boo by herself.
Mother told me to be careful of the fae folk, but she never warned me that they love coming out when the sky turns into a midnight blue. Just hours ago I was picking Moon Berries— a sort of berry that grows round and juicy during the twilight hours but a second too late and you’ll find them dry and shrivelled like a prune.
Kearford Hill was located a mile away from my town. At the sweet age of 8, I am very much capable of running errands on my own, for I proudly told my mother that I will retrieve the berries before the stars glow in the navy sky. And what was there to fear in Kearford Hill? I knew every nook and cranny of the west side of the hill since I’ve been playing in the creek by the hill.
But today the hill seems a little different. Making my way home from Kearford Hill with only a flickering lamp was hard enough that I unwillingly spent hours circling the same tree, looking for a path home. I was lost for hours among the crafty trees and dry dirt.
Do not run from the fae folk, but ask to be pardoned. My mother’s voice rang in my head. She used to remind me and my younger sister of the rules every single night. Oftentimes, we were told to recite the rules of the fae folk before bed. As a proud 8-year-old, I can remember every rule. But now when a pixie is in front of me, my mind scrambles to remember what I have to do.
One, you must not eat their food. Two, you must not give your name. Three, you must never-
“Are you lost, dear child?” the pixie asked again, interrupting my thoughts with a different question this time. Its beady eyes gleamed with deviousness. Can it hear my thoughts? I wondered and with every second, my blood felt colder. My fingers have turned blue from the sheer trepidation and the unfamiliar cold that creeps up the hills at dark. I cannot outrun this creature nor outsmart it. I could only look at the creature, trying to keep my breath slow despite the thunderous beat of my frightened heart against the crevices of my chest.
Please don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me.
The pixie’s crooked nose twitched, huffing in annoyance at my rigid state but resumed its sinister smile when it flitted right into my line of sight. “You have such a pretty face, dear child. If you don’t tell me your name, mushrooms will sprout from your face.” It sang in a sing-song voice. At its threat, tears filled my eyes. Perhaps I’m not a brave boy. I wanted to cry for my mother.
“Don’t hurt me please!” I yelped and took a step back as the pixie flew closer to my face. My very first words to this creature were to beg for its mercy. I immediately looked away from the pixie, grabbing a few small Moon Berries in my palm before offering them to the tiny creature, hoping to appease its displeasure. “W-would you like to have some Moon Berries?” My voice came out trembling, unsure if offering a gift to a pixie is wise. There were too many rules when it comes to the fae folks.
“Ooh~ Moon Berries! So round and juicy.” Holding a berry in between its small hands, and examining it. “Tell me your name and I’ll be your friend.” The pixie persisted as it took a sharp bite of the berry. Tears dripped from my eyes as I felt the fear rising with each heartbeat. I truly just want to go home to the warmth of the fireplace and the love of my mother, but we all know that fae folks are persistent.
Should I tell the pixie my name so I may go home? But I must not give them my name, for names hold power. If a fae folk knows of your true name, you will be entrapped in their world and be made into slaves. I do not want to be a slave. Finishing the berry, the pixie grabbed another— I didn’t notice how long I had been holding my hand out but it felt like an eternity in my state of dread.
The wings of the pixie carried it to my shoulder and I felt a soft weight resting on me. I do not know how long I have been stuck here, lost and cold underneath a starless sky. Mother must be desperately looking for me. “I can show you the way home, only if you tell me your name.” It grinned after reading my mind, tossing the rest of the bitten berry onto the ground. Fae folks can’t lie.
Hesitation showed on my face for the first time— perhaps I saw a glimmer of hope to go home. In desperation, I muttered softly, “Georgie…”, head hanging low as I squeezed tears from my eyes. My legs aching to tear themselves away from this haunting place. Do not run from the fae folk. I reminded myself.
With that, I felt a weight lifted from my shoulder, the pixie now bobbing left and right with glee. “Little Georgie! What a nice name. You’re my first human friend!” It giggled excitedly.
“Since we are friends now, I shall see you tomorrow!” The pixie exclaimed with much joy, clapping its hands together as its wings beat harder. The pixie then pointed to the west with a slender finger, “Follow that way and you’ll find yourself home.” It grinned. While the grin was of genuine excitement, my stomach churned in disgust and fear. With a bow but without a word, I sprinted as fast as my legs could carry towards the west, homebound.
It felt like hours had passed until I came into view of my town. I’m finally home. Mother greeted me by the door with a worried face and a tight hug as I cried into her comforting arms. I have not told anyone about the encounter with the pixie whose name I didn’t know. I bathed and ate well as my mother told me that I was a brave boy for being able to find my way home. I beamed at the compliment, but most of all I am happy that I am home and safe. But the next day, a young boy from my town went missing. No one has seen Georgie ever since. What have I done?
