Changing Natures

I’m flying several feet above the massive floating contraption of steel. Bigger than a blue whale, but more clunky and as unsophisticated as any human. The name Titanic written across its side in unnecessarily large lettering.

There are hundreds, over a thousand, humans here. The squirmy things all crammed together, waving from the deck of the massive ship.

Of course, none of them can see the small goblins reaching into the people's purses, grabbing items to add to their greedy little collections or others playing little tricks to amuse themselves. Nor the imps that I know are napping in the coal beds many stories below. Nor even the pixies, like me flying, above them.

I rest my feet on one of the pillars that shoot up through the middle of the massive thing. The only one of the five that for some reason isn't spouting the icky blackness. I stare at the other four, each building a small trail of smog and spitting it into Mother's sky. I hate these things, not boats in particular, things that hurt Mother. When humans first learned to sail, I loved watching them catch the wind and glide across the water's surface. Sometimes a friendly wind sprite would even help them along their way.

The passengers begin to shift from waving to their loved ones and strangers on land, to wandering around the huge vessel they're about to call home for the next six days.

I don't understand them. Sometimes the boats don't make it to the destination and the people die, and yet they don't seem to care. They keep building more and getting on them, trusting that the one they themselves board, won't fail. Entirely, utterly, humanly stupid.

I sigh and stand, stretching for a bit, before beating my wings and flying down to get a closer look at the foolish humans that have boarded this Titanic monstrosity.

There are several small children, and I can't help myself but smile. I’ve always had a soft spot for children. They seem the most like fey, they make the most sense out of any of the humans. And sometimes they can even see me.

One such girl in a snuggly purple coat looks at me with curiosity. I smile, and decide to forget about how this vessel is poisoning Mother for a minute. After all, She told me I'm not allowed to stop humans from inventing. I always argue back that their inventions are killing Her. She says that's their choice. I always want to rip out my hair and scream, 'but what about your choice, Mother?'

Still, the small child that can see me isn't responsible for the poison of the ship she's boarded. Though I do give her mother a bit of fault. I've learned how humans work, living among them since they waddled out of the ocean on two legs. Money seems to be what directs them these days. If people didn't pay for tickets to get on the ship, they wouldn't be making more ships.

Still, again, the small child is not to blame. I suppose my rage and anger are a wee bit difficult to distract myself from. Perhaps a game with a child will do the trick?

I flit further down, my wings beating softly in the air. I spiral in a circle to hover in front of the girl. My whole body is the length of her face, and I drift smiling at her.

There are some sisters and brothers of mine who like to lure humans away. Have them drown or scream to their death. Some of those are around here, flitting this way and that. One particular seems to be having a grand ole time attempting to drown a few of the slower dogs on deck; Nova was never a good friend of mine. Yet somehow, both of us are always drawn to the ocean, the water.

Many, nearly all, children can see us fey, but most grow old and forget the magic in the world with time. Rare ones are gifted with the Sight, those who have a true belief of magic, and will be able to see us their whole life.

I can tell this one has the Sight because she saw me first. We can always reveal ourselves to small humans. That's easy, but only rarely are they already looking for us.

I do a cartwheel in the air, leaving a dissolving trail of my unique mix of silver, blue, and white Shine behind me. The Shine of our fey skin is unique to any who can see, our own light fingerprint as it were.

The child laughs in glee as I continue to do somersaults and cartwheels. Her mother is talking to someone else, and she doesn't even seem to notice when her child's hand slips out of hers. Humans, I want to spit disgustedly, don't even protect their young.

The small child reaches out a hand as if to catch me, but I flit a bit backward, so the girl takes a step forward. Her legs are strong, but she's not used to walking much yet.

I smile and do a small dance in the air. She laughs and claps her hands as if it were a show, which I suppose it is.

I level with her nose. I wish I could talk to the small human, our size difference making speech impossible. If I could, I would tell her that these ships are poisoning my Mother. How would she feel if I started poisoning hers? A mother who, now several feet away, is still not paying that close attention to her daughter. She’s lucky I’m not Nova, who at this very moment, is tormenting a poor poodle. The dog is being chastised from her owner for not sitting still while Nova keeps pinching and kicking the sad animal.

I want to save the creature, but what can I do? Nova and I are who we are. We've been around since the dawn of time, like all the other fey. Maybe that's why I like small humans. There are no baby fey or children fey. It's just us, the one thousand or so fey that began when Mother awoke.

I wonder what will happen if She dies? I look back to the trendless of smoke floating up and up into the sky. Will I die? Me and all the other fey? Will the humans?

----------

The first day is unexciting. The child, whose name I learned is Olivia, disappears into the lower levels with her mother and I return to my spot on the fifth pillar sticking out of the middle of the ship.

My heart and wings droop as I watch the smoke into the night sky. I can hear a few snores from imps lying in the coal beds. Coal isn't bad, imps aren't bad per say, it's just this use. Why do humans have to use it like this? They don't seem to give a second thought of how much they're hurting Mother.

I put my head on my hands and stare, wishing I could do something, anything to make it stop. Each ship that's traveled across the ocean makes my heart break a bit more and a bit more. I half expect if my kind did the absurd practice of cutting open our dead, they may find my heart in mere slivers by the time of my passing, if I am ever to pass.

Yet here I am. Why? Why do I keep sailing with boats, and never venture far from Mother's waters? I could protect my heart by going and living in a forest or jungle or even a desert. There are plenty of fey there, they love the sand, or the canvas of trees, but I've never found that to feel like home.

Water is home, the ocean is home. But boats keep coming; bigger and bigger. I suppose I like torturing myself. There are of course still the wonderful sailboats, those though are becoming rarer as these massive machines become more popular. Still, I could stay with them. But I suppose there aren't any small humans on sailboats anymore. I guess this is where I get to be around small humans and Mother's water. My heart will just have to endure being slivered more and more each passing decade.

"What a day!" Nova comes sailing down from the sky, squealing in utter delight. She lands next to me on the edge and I try not to groan. There are plenty of other places to perch, but after multiple millennia of dealing with her, I know leaving will only make her follow. “Oh come on, gloomy-foomy,” she teases.

I stay silent. There's no point in engaging with her. There's never any change with us, not like the humans who are always changing, evolving, inventing.

“I don't understand why you even stay on these things, you never drown anyone,” she says exasperatedly. "Never even seen you smother one in their sleep."

“Are you done?” I ask, just wanting her to go away.

“So serious,” she pokes me in the side.

“What did that poodle ever do to you?” I ask, referring to the dog she was tormenting this morning.

“Nothing,” she shrugs, “but I like seeing it squirm, and did you hear it wine, ah,” she does a stupid chef's kiss, “delicious.”

“What's the point?”

“Why not? It's not like it can stop me. No one can stop us,” she whispers seductively. But her tone of voice has no effect. When I do think about luring humans away, it's generally because they're annoying me by, oh I don’t know, building a 175-foot-tall steamer ship that's killing Mother! Still, I'm not 'allowed to get involved.'

Mother does have a very odd set of rules. We can't get in the way of humans inventions and growth through time, but we are free to kill or protect as we want. Maybe She does it that way cause with a thousand of us all over Her, She'd have a hell of a time reigning some of the wilder ones in. Like Nova.

“Come on, don't you ever wanna just push one off the deck?” she urges.

“No,” I say forcefully, nearly flying away.

Nova faces away from me, staring at the churning smoke. “It's an ugly thing don't you think?”

“Yes.” I agree.

“Why do you think they do it?” her tone of voice different than I've heard her use before.

“Do what?” I ask against my better judgment.

“All—” she waves a hand gesturing to the entirety of the ship, “—this.”

I shrug, before smiling as a cheeky comment comes to mind, “because no one is stopping them.” I use her own words against her.

She narrows her eyes with no venom. “Clever,” she smarts.

I laugh, surprising myself. It's not every day I get one over on Nova.

We sit in silence some more, and she swings her legs over the edge of the mast thingy. We watch the guards break up a drunken fist fight, and a couple sneaking into a dark corner to give into their bodies’ heat. I wonder what that feels like. I place a hand on my heart. To be in heat.

“It's different you know," Nova cuts in on my trail of thought.

“Huh? What is?” I ask worried she can somehow read my thoughts. But she isn't even looking at me, instead, she's lying flat on her back, her knees still bent over the edge, staring up at the sky.

“The thing with the poodle.”

“Oh.” She's trying to justify herself.

“I do it, because that's the way I am, if Mother didn't want me like this, She shouldn't have made me this way.”

It's a common argument that many of the fey believe, but in truth, we don't even know if Mother made us. For all we know, we all just woke up on the same day. Mother Earth and Her thousand caretakers. And we've been like that for nearly three million years. It's hard to remember those early days, the first few centuries before humans were even here. Some of us like to think we never rebelled, that we were all perfect children. I don't really think that's true.

“Well,” Nova pushes, “aren't you going to say anything?”

I sigh. “What would you like me to say?” I can't talk her out of it, I don't even know what happened to make her start up this whole conversation in the first place. “Why are you even asking me anyway? Why do you care?”

She shrugs, which is an odd motion, given she's laying down, “I don't know,” she says completely unconvincing.

I swivel to look at her with an eyebrow raised, “oh yeah?” I ask, calling out her lie.

She looks away from me, “that girl. The one with the Sight. She told me not to be so mean to dogs.”

I smile with pride. “She's braver than me.”

“It's just a dog!”

“Exactly, what did it ever do to you?”

She opens her mouth to argue, but I keep going.

“I'll go a step further, what does hurting that poor dog do for you?”

She kicks her foot against the mast. “Whatever,” she gives as a non-answer, before sitting up and flying away.

I close my eyes and sigh. Not really sure why I said what I said, but also not really caring much. Beyond the fact that Nova rarely seeks me out, and when she does, it's never been for a heart-to-heart.

----------

Days pass. Every once in a while, I think about my talk with Nova that first night, after we picked up the last of the Titanic's passengers. I fly down low, letting the salt water sprinkle my face, the sea creatures enjoying the waves the ship creates or avoiding the jostling of it all together.

Mother's water is beautiful, there's something about it at night though that takes the beauty from calming to questioning. Like there's a mystery hidden in Her depths. I've tried to swim before, wanting to join and dance with the dolphins and ask the lobsters along the bottom questions, wondering if perhaps they would be an animal I could communicate with.

But the second my wings began absorbing the water, they became so heavy I could barely move. I sank and blacked out. The next thing I remember was Mother placing me down on a sandy beach and telling me that swimming was not for me. Perhaps that was the first crack in my heart.

There are plenty of other fey that don't have wings and they can swim in the water. There are some that even have tails for exactly that. I watch them with envy, wishing I could be among them. But no, swimming is not for me.

I think about what Nova said that first night, ‘I am this way cause Mother made me like this.’ I often wonder why I was made like this. With wings that beat and take me high but keep me from ever dipping below the water's surface. Of ever discovering and knowing its mystery. Even if Mother didn't make us, which I'm not completely convinced of, why?

I stare at my hands, letting off the unique combination of silver, blue, and white that is my Shine before looking away. Why Mother? Why can I not swim in your waters?

I close my eyes and dip a toe gently down, to skim the top of the ocean. The splash of freezing water on my feet exhilarating. The small capture of peace ruined by the knowledge that I can go no further, no deeper. ‘Swimming is not for you.’ I kick at the water, and shoot straight up into the sky.

I hate this boat. It gets to swim. Cut through the water, travel on it. Why can't I make a pixie boat? Travel through water like that. The instant I think it, I hate myself more than I hate the Titanic. I would never build a boat. I would never hurt Mother like that. Not even a sail boat. Fey don't invent, we just are.

I float down to the main deck, and flit this way and that, navigating the corridors I've grown used to over the last two days looking for Olivia.

She lights up when she sees me, and I settle on her shoulder. We've grown closer, she and I. She tells stories non-stop when no one else can hear, and I know she'll grow up to be an artist. Honestly, most children with the Sight will. It seems to be a running trait with them. I smile and nod as she talks about a cat's journey through a jungle filled with razor-sharp lady bugs.

----------

The sun is setting on the fourth day of the journey and I'm 'walking' a balance beam on the railing of the ship. I pass a few life boats swaying in sync with the gentle glide of the ship, when I see Nova's purple and red Shine, peeking through the slats of some wooden chairs on the upper decks.

"Nova?" I ask concerned as I land on the chair in question. "What are you…?" She's curled in on herself with multiple dry streaks of tears coating her cheeks. As if she's been crying, stopped, and then cried again. "What happened?" I ask, concerned. She's not really my friend, but she is… well, she's Nova.

"I can't get up," she says softly.

"What do you mean?" I ask, confused.

She sighs and then pushes on her hands and I see the problem. The leg of the deck chair is holding down her wings.

"Oh," I exclaim, worried for her. We can't die, we never die. But trapped, trapped is something that can happen to any of us. I fly under and try to move the chair leg, but I barely even scoot it a breath's span before Nova screams. The pain of that tiny movement scraping against her wing causing her to cry out.

"Stop! Stop!" she begs.

"Sorry." I sit next to her. "How did this happen?"

"I was playing with another dog."

I frown but don't say anything. Having one single heartfelt talk wasn’t going to change her. Though perhaps multiple ones could?

"And it all happened so fast," she continues, "his human moved, he lunged for me with his mouth, another human bumped into his human and suddenly I was here." She cried through the re-telling. "How am I supposed to get free?"

I take stock of her situation. I'm unable to move the chair without scraping her wings, making her unable to fly for days and causing her great pain. "I don't know," I tell her. "But I'll think of something."

I make a giant leap and fly upward toward my favorite pillar, not listening to Nova's cries of "don't leave me," instead hoping that something I see will spark an idea of freeing her. When I land delicately on the top, I stare out and notice something huge in the water.

A giant iceberg much too close to the ship's edge. That can't be right. I look back toward Nova… she got herself into the mess, she can wait a moment longer.

I fly over to investigate. A giant block of ice has pierced the side of the ship and water is flowing into the vessel.

"Mother," I whisper. Mother has struck the ship. I float in the air watching for several moments, the understanding taking that long as the shock of what I'm seeing sinks into my belly. Mother is sinking the Titanic!

As I zip back over the edge of the ship and fly to Nova's trapped form, I notice all the humans on deck are acting like everything’s normal. Why aren’t they panicking or trying to get off the ship? Can’t they tell their life is in danger?

"Nova!" I cry once I land next to her. "Nova! I have to free you the hard way I'm so sorry. We don't have time," I explain hurriedly.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Mother has struck the ship."

"What?" Blood drains from Nova's face. She tugs at the spot where her wings are pinned down. "You can't just pull the chair. I won't be able to fly, I'll I'll…" she looks around terrified. "I'll drown. Trapped at the bottom of the ocean."

"No, you won't," I try to sound confident. I can still remember drowning when I tried to swim. Mother can always save us, but how long was I down there? I'll never know. It might have been a day, might have been years.

"Please," Nova begs.

At her words, a lurch of some sort reaches us, maybe it's the residual impact of the iceberg hit, maybe something important in the ship just cracked, I don't know, but everything not bolted down is jostled, including the deck chairs.

At once we both spring into action, taking advantage of that tiny second of time. I pull on Nova's arm as she pushes away from the spot she was pinned and together we avoid the momentarily flying furniture.

We land shakily on the railing of the ship, where only moments ago I was pretending it was a balance beam.

Nova leans over, her left wing injured and beating at a slower rate than her right, but not completely damaged. "What now?" she asks, staring at the scene in worry, leaning on me for support to stand.

"I don't know," I repeat disheartened, feeling as if it's my new pathetic motto. Why would Mother do this? She told us we weren't to interfere with the human's inventions…I guess that didn't mean She couldn't.

If I were to seek retribution, it wouldn't be on the humans, but the ship before it was full. Now all these lives will be lost…lives…

"Olivia!" I shoot up into the sky, causing Nova to crouch down in order to catch herself from falling.

"Where are you going?" she calls after me.

"I have to find Olivia!"

----------

It's been three hours but Olivia’s nowhere to be found. The ship is gone, completely swallowed by Mother's dark, glassy ocean. But the tragedy hasn't ended yet. There are still hundreds of humans screaming in the frigid water.

Before the last of the ship disappeared, I was able to help Nova at least. She's on the iceberg, along with the majority of the fey that were aboard the Titanic. Some are clinging to a life boat here and there, others are beginning to fly toward less cold land. None of them are helping, not even trying. The imps are grumbling about not being in their coal beds anymore, the lack of heat making them more surly than normal.

I want to help, I want to find Olivia, but I don't know how.

The night is pitch black as I fly around all the struggling humans, wishing I could do something. Though not sure what. I look off to the distance and see some figures floating in the water far away from the other humans.

I fly toward it, wondering if maybe someone got lost, separated, I don't know. How does anyone know where anyone is out here?

Splashing in the freezing water, in the same puffy coat she wore when boarding the ship, Olivia is pounding the water, clearly not quite sure how to swim, and scared out of her mind.

"Olivia!" I gasp in pure revelation and happiness. Olivia's alive.

I fly down to her and connect. I'm thankful for my silvery blue Shine, as without it, in the dark, I'm not sure her human—even gifted with the Sight—eyes could see me. There are a few other humans around her, all shouting at where the Titanic disappeared, as if, if they scream loud enough, it will come back.

The moment I lock eyes with Olivia, I can see some of her fear leaving. I fly in a circle and give a follow me motion, my Shine leaving a trail as I move, just like when I first danced for her. I'm not exactly sure what my plan is, but her following me is better than her being left alone to die.

She struggles, not having as much coordination as an adult in water, but she cries to her fellow humans, “This way!”

I can't help the small glow of pride in my heart. The people gifted with the Sight were always meant to be part of the bridge between us, fey and humans. Through time that role shifted, changed. Art was the only place the fey w21ere welcome, and so that was where the gifted drifted to.

Some of the adults don't listen, they never do, but I see one shrug his shoulders in a 'why not' kind of gesture. He helps Olivia swim, and I wish I could thank him for that. Though I hope getting them out of this alive will be thanks enough.

I bring them closer to the boats, Olivia, the kind man, and a few others who decide to tag along. The scene is chaotic. People screaming, trying to get on boats, humans literally pushing their fellows away from them. I scowl, but then again, if too many got on, they'd all drown.

I turn around to communicate with Olivia again. I do my best to tell her to stay here, I'm going to look around.

She nods her head in understanding, and I zip into the sky. I take in everything I can from a mile above the earth. I notice a boat further than the others, perhaps one of the first boats, those boats that weren't completely full when they left the ship in the first place. Maybe they don't know what's happened, maybe they can't hear the screams and cry of their fellow passengers, though I doubt it. There's not a creature alive this night within a hundred yards that can't hear the scream of human anguish. The people on board that small life boat may not have the consciousness to turn back and rescue more lives, but if I bring a small handful, I pray they will help them aboard.

I fly back to Olivia, and signal for her to follow again.

“Okay, we can go now,” Olivia instructs.

“So you're saying—?”, the kind man starts, Olivia now wrapped around his shoulders, as he roughly swims through the water. “—that we're following a glowing silver fairy, who you've been talking with this whole trip?”

“Yup,” Olivia answers honestly.

The man shakes his head in disbelief, but doesn't stop swimming.

“She's a good fairy though, so don't worry.”

He gives her a skeptical look, but still doesn't break his pace in the water.

I lead them on a longer route, to avoid the calamity happening where most of the boats are. I see a couple of the people who followed the kind man break off to try their hands at muscling into one of those boats, but I know it won't be any use. I don't stop them, I can't help them, they can't see me. The only person I can help in this whole ocean is Olivia.

I keep leading them further and further in the dark.

The kind man and Olivia and the two who haven't broken off are all shaking, and I hope there are blankets in the life boat, and food.

I fly in a quick loop to show excitement, hoping that will translate to 'we're almost there.'

A few more minutes of kicking and I can see the boat. I fly ahead, making sure that Olivia can still follow my Shine.

I land on the edge of the boat, not even making it rock. I perch on the bow, showing the people to safety, at least what I hope is safety. I turn to study who is on this boat more carefully. Preying that at least one of them has a heart and guts enough to speak up for others.

“Hey!” the kind man starts waving and, at first, I think he sees me, out of sheer—I don't know. But after I second, I realize what he sees is the boat. “Hey! help us!”

"There's someone in the water," a person in the boat cries, pointing in my small group’s direction.

It doesn't take them long to get Olivia, the kind man, and the other two into the boat. A few give up their blankets and I witness as this human kindness welcomes my small, little group. I smile at Olivia, happy she's safe.

“Thank you,” she says to me.

I startle, surprised she addressed me so openly among adults. I nod, in attempt to say you're welcome.

“Can you speak?” she asks, uncaring about the strange looks the adults are giving her.

“Yes,” I say knowing she won't be able to hear. Our sound waves on different levels.

“Oh, I see,” she deflates slightly.

I fly up to her and touch my hand, the size of one of her dimples, to her cheek. “It is okay.” I mouth slowly, hoping she can maybe read lips. "I am glad you are safe."

“Because of you,” she replies.

My heart seems to fuse a few of the broken pieces back together. I don't know why Mother made me the way She did, if She was even the being that created me. But for right now, on this little life boat, I'm glad I was made in the first place. So I could save this one tiny human’s life.