Broken Cage

Ferdinand the Bull was my favorite book as a child. Not because I liked the story. But because when I was five years old The Ferdinand, the actual bull, nuzzled my hand. I sat with a group of similar aged children in a back room of the town library, while the librarian read it aloud. In a flash of glittery light, he leapt from the pages…literally.

His body was huge and sleek, his muscles showed through his fur. He was so pleasant that it never occurred to me to be scared. When the story was done the librarian said, “Okay Ferdinand, its time to go home.” He approached her, disappearing into the same light he had appeared from.

Of course, I told my parents all about it. In fact, I talked about it for days. Eventually they’d told me that it was just my imagination. That I had gotten so into the story that I had imagined it. Things can’t come to life from a book. Any attempt to argue was met with admonishment.

But that librarian was well known amongst us kids. We could never remember her name but to us she was ‘The Fairy’. She would read to us every Thursday during the last two hours that the library was open. However, I aged out of that group not long after meeting Ferdinand.

A part of me held onto my belief but being surround by people that were always so sure made it difficult to maintain. I stopped talking about it and settled for holding the memory close. It ended up not mattering much as my dad died a few months later.

Mom…tried. She did. I think if it were just a matter of being a single working mother, she would have been fine. But losing Dad like that on top of the rest pretty much broke her. She held it together with only a minor pill addiction until I was about twelve.

Then she started drinking on top of it. At first just for fun. Then she’d stop by the bar after work and not come home until late. When I was fourteen, she almost got fired from her job because of a DUI. She started drinking at home. Lonely drinking quickly transitioned into first, inviting just a few friends from the bar over, and then full-on house parties.

In the last few years, it has become common to find complete strangers in my house while my mom is at work. How she manages to keep her job while hungover is beyond me. Since some of her guests can be found still sleeping it off after I get home from school. I can now kick several of them out by name.

Except on my mother’s days off. I rarely go home those days. It’s the only way to stay sane. Her hangover would guarantee I couldn’t yell. Which is the only way to make them leave. This will lead to day drinking and it’s a full on party by seven.

I can’t stand it, so I go somewhere I feel comfortable. My local public library. The Fairy still reads to the small kids. But the spot behind the counter is Silvia’s. A very kind woman that holds the title head librarian. She had run into my mom a few times during her bar hopping phase. She an intuitive woman.

She’s never turned me away, and often lets me stay passed closing time. Even better she’s been special ordering books for me since I was fourteen. It’s a small-town library and its collection wasn’t large.

She would get new shipments for me on Fridays. It’s also one of my mom’s days off, so I was always quick to head over after school. The ring of the bell relaxed my shoulders, and the smell of pages and ink enveloped me like a favorite blanket.

“Trix! You’re early today,” Silvia called in the otherwise empty library. A genuine smile formed as I replied, “Last hour let us out early. It’s almost the end of the year and all our major tests are done. So, they’re starting to check out.” I made it to the counter but didn’t give her a chance to reply before continuing, “Are they here yet?”

She chuckled as she turned. “They showed up bright and early this morning,” she said, placing five books on the counter between us. “Awesome, thank you!” I gathered my treasure and got comfortable in my out of the way corner.

Before I knew it my first book was finished, and Silvia stood in front of me. The sunlight streaming through the window had turned dim. “Hey, it’s after seven. I closed up over an hour ago,” she informed me gently. I sighed, “Oh, okay”.

Gathering my things, I contemplated the time. The party would be well underway. I could sneak in through my window, but she always seemed to know when I was home. She would come in completely wasted and one of three things would happen. Either she’d pick a fight, be sloppy emotional, or worst-case scenario, she just wants to talk and vomits all over my bed…again.

I could go to the park and read by the baseball field. They kept the lights on until eleven. After that I wasn’t sure. I headed towards the library door; my destination decided. But stopped when I heard, “Wait, hold on,” and turned to look at Silvia. First in question and then concern. She looked like she was at war with herself. “You’re not going home tonight, are you?” she asked, though it didn’t sound much like a question.

“Not for a while,” I replied warily. “For a while, sure,” she scoffed and spun on her heel, “Follow me.” She didn’t wait to see if I followed, but my curiosity wouldn’t be denied.

She led me around the counter and into the hallway that led to the back rooms. The last room on the right was where The Fairy would read to the kids. The last door on the left was a small mostly empty storage room that conveniently held a small cot and lamp.

“I stay here occasionally if its storming or it gets icy on the roads. I’m not supposed to do this and if anyone asks, I will deny it. But this is safer than the park or some other random place. You can stay here for tonight. I’ll lock you in until morning, but you have to leave after close at one tomorrow,” she spoke directly, and looked expectant.

“Um…of course, thank you!” I said, stepping into the room before she changed her mind. I was grateful at the opportunity to stay and not having to bounce around. Her expression softened, “Just stay in here and have a good night.” With that she turned and walked away.

I waited to hear the bell ring before I closed the door to my temporary bedroom. It felt odd to be in the deserted library alone. The stillness was almost unsettling, and I wasted no time getting my stuff situated and comfortable on the cot. My music made it easier to relax as I opened my second book, vaguely wondering if this counts towards my return date.

Around midnight I finished book two and decided to try for sleep. The cot was uncomfortable, but my eyes felt worn out and my mind felt numb in my too heavy head. At first, I thought I was slipping into a dream. But quickly realized that I was hearing voices.

Well…a voice and some weird noises. It was almost like someone left a TV on in the other room. Which I knew wasn’t the case. So, I crept up to the door, doing my best to open it silently. Light glowed in the hallway in a mass of different colors reminding me of vague memories not fully formed.

I snuck up the hallway but didn’t see much until I got behind the counter. There was so much light I could see the room clearly. The noise became easier to identify. It sounded like a multitude of, almost tinkling, high-pitched whispers.

I was inching my way up to peek over the counter when a small ball of light darted around my face. I could feel the feather light touch of wings on my cheeks and fell back. All noise ceased at the sound of the thud I made.

The ball of light fluttered around my head as I stood up but settled a couple of feet in front of me. Giving me a good look at it. It wasn’t a glowing ball but a small humanoid figure that glowed. Its wings were a sparkly purple giving its glow a purple tint. Its face didn’t quite look human though.

Movement caught my eye to the right and I realized there were many similar creatures floating around the room staring at me. The word popped into my head from nothing, and I spoke without intention, “Sprites.”

“Very good Bellatrix, I’m impressed,” a woman’s voice sounded from between some shelves. I winced at the use of my full name but turned my attention to the hooded figure making its way forward “Sprites help to lift my spirits. Though you must be careful where you pull them from. Some are depicted to be quite nasty.”

“You know my name?” I asked, more thrown off by that than the sprites. Very few people knew it. Anyone that associated with my mom called me Bella. Anyone I was friendly with called me Trix or Trixi. “Oh, I know you very well,” she replied stepping into enough light to identify her. “You’re The Fairy!" I blurted without thought.

She laughed but nodded, “That’s what they call me. I’ve kept my eye on you, my dear. This is rather convenient. Boredom has been suffocating me lately. It’s a good way to liven things up I think.” I can see her smile under the hem of her hood. “What do you mean?” I ask, edging back a bit.

She reached up and lowered her hood. She was beautiful but looked…wrong. Her hair was long and dark, the tips of pointed ears stuck through. But it was her eyes that gave me chills. They were an ethereal dark green but looked far too large for her head.

As I stared, she gave me a lopsided smile, “The better to see you with.” Her comment snapped me out of my stupor, but she didn’t give me the chance to answer. “I’ve read to so many children and you’re the only one that never showed any hint of fear.”

Then her expression sobered. “It was a real shame when our father died. A shame about your mother too. Some of your light dimmed, but I watched you develop. Watched you fight against the cage of reality. I honestly can’t wait to see what you do with it.”

I’d been listening so intently that I didn’t realize how close she had become. She reached as if to touch me and I panicked. “Wait! What do I call you?” I asked. I had just wanted to stall her. It worked, but there was nowhere to run.

“Names are powerful things. I do not give mine. You can refer to me as The Fairy.” She moved again, but again I spoke without thought, “So I have to say something like, ‘Hey, The Fairy!’, that seems a bit awkward.” She paused for a moment and a look of mild frustration crossed her features, “You’re kind of irritating.” Then a smile replaced the frustration. The kind of smile that got my adrenaline pumping. Whether in excitement or fear I wasn’t sure.

“You’ll be perfect for this,” she said reaching up again. “What does that mean?” I yelled. Her palm began to glow with a dark blue light. “It means, buckle up Buttercup, you’re in for a hell of a ride.”

The world got very bright and then very dark.