Out To Get Me

“Grandad’s lost his mind.” George’s sister was not one to mince words.

“Lost his mind how? His wife just died; he’s grieving.”

George loved his Grandma dearly and so he would never admit that a few months ago, when he found out she had passed, his first thought was ‘I hope she made more pear jam.’

“It’s not just grief.” His sister said defensively. “He’s talking a lot of nonsense, and he’s angry, he says things are happening at the house. I’m really worried about him George, maybe Grandma dying has sent him into dementia or something. And since you’re the closest…”

“You want me to make the drive.” George said as a statement not a question.

“Yup, and hey maybe you can finally talk to the motorcycle girl next door that you’re always staring at.”

“I’m ignoring that, but I’ll leave first thing tomorrow.”

His sister let out a breath, “Thank you. Take care of the old coot… And George… see if there are any pear preserves, would you?”

His grandparents had a little hobby farm with a charming old farmhouse over-looking rolling hills. They had a few different fruit trees like cherries and plums, but the pride and joy of the farm was a stunning pear tree.

And oh those pears… it was the most amazing fruit you could ever eat.

The catch was, Grandma was the only one who could pick from the tree. When anyone else touched the pears, they tasted bitter and frankly, rotten, but when Grandma picked them, they were magic in your mouth.

George pulled up in front of the place he had known and loved, and he was shocked by how dark and lifeless it seemed.

“Grandad!” George called into the quiet house.

He heard a small bang sound.

“God damn it! Blast them to everlasting hell.” his Grandad yelled.

George followed the cursing to the den.

“Grandad?”

George’s grandfather turned around and his face was black with ash, his pipe was smoking and so were his eyebrows.

“Um Grandad, what happened to you.”

“Those, damn, vile, pixies have done it this time. You don’t mess with a man’s tobacco! I’m going to chop down that infernal tree and burn those little monsters to ash.”

“Grandad…um…I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“That Pear tree of Louise’s. It’s cursed and those creatures… Are out to get me… they’ve always been out to get me.” He spat out.

George couldn’t get any more coherent information from his grandfather. But George managed to calm him down and left him to have a bath with a glass of whiskey.

He went out to the fields and breathed in the air, it all felt so good, well now that he had left the house. He walked over to the tree, it didn’t look cursed, if anything it looked even more beautiful.

As George picked one of the pears, he felt guilty, it was Grandma and Grandma alone who picked from the tree, but he did it anyway.

“Why not.” He muttered and took a bite from the pear. Amazing taste overloaded his mouth. It was even better than Grandma’s pears. His senses were so overloaded he had to sit down and close his eyes.

“I’m sorry about your grandma.”

“Thanks.” he said before he opened his eyes and looked around. There was no one there.

“We all loved her too.” The voice said again. It was a soft lyrical female voice, and George had no idea where it was coming from.

“Up here.” The voice said with a laugh.

George squinted up into the branches, who on earth was talking?

“Look again, and open your mind, I am small.”

George saw her, and immediately thought he had lost his mind. Because there in the crook of a branch was an honest to goodness fairy. Her skin and wings had a brown-green sheen that blended perfectly into the tree.

George threw down the pear, it was making him hallucinate.

“You’re not crazy.” The fairy said in a calm sweet voice.

“There is no way, this can’t be real.”

The tiny creature leap gracefully from her perch, her wings opened instantly and beat swiftly, not unlike a hummingbird. She drifted towards him, seeming cautious but also determined. She was about the size of his finger, and not what he’d ever thought a fairy would look like, not that he had ever given it any thought, but she was no Tinkerbelle. This fairy was too earthy, a part of nature, but beautiful in the way a pinecone would be, if you looked at it close enough.

George held out his hand and the fairy landed gently on the back of it. He barely felt her weight, but it was there.

“This isn’t real.” He whispered.

She obviously didn’t like that, her little face turned nasty and with a movement so quick she stabbed the back of his hand with something, a tiny sword? And she zipped back to the tree.

“What the hell was that for?” He shouted at her.

“You need proof, proof tomorrow when you wake up and don’t believe what you saw with your own eyes. So that will be your proof.”

A drop of blood was rising out of the cut in a perfect dome. And she was right, the pain made her, all of it, real. And he suddenly sympathized with his Grandfather.

“You’ve been torturing my Grandad. Why? The poor man just lost his wife. What did he ever do to you?”

“What did he do to us?” She hissed “He ruined everything! Louise was fated to be with Randel, and your Grandfather stole her for himself.”

“Randel. The old guy next door?”

“Yes, his family line is pure magic, and yours is the keeper of the tree. These lines must come together.”

George didn’t know what to think of that. Would his Grandmother have been better off with a different man? It was hard to admit, but probably. His grandparent’s marriage wasn’t exactly ideal, but how many people were truly happy after a lifetime together?

“If my grandparents were never together, then I wouldn’t even be here.” He couldn’t help but point out.

“No…Your soul is connected to hers, true you would not be quite as you are, but you were meant to be here as well, and you always would have come, in one form or another. You are her successor. I will show our world to you. The fruit of the tree is only the beginning.”

In the weeks that followed, George spent every day by the tree learning how nature was woven through the land, held together by fairy magic.

And though he still could barely believe it, he had become friends with the little sprite who had no name.

And he found it harder and harder to be around his grandfather. Grandad’s dark bitterness was growing, and the more George was with the fairy, the more he felt pulled to the Pear tree. He would have slept there if it wouldn’t have looked absolutely bonkers.

Now that George had gained the trust of one fairy, others were starting to appear. His favourite thing to do now was watch them go about their jobs, coaxing each fruit to ripen or new sprigs to grow from the branches.

“You need to stop messing with my grandfather.” He told them.

His fairy friend glared at him. “He is nothing to us, and he needs to leave this land, so you can take your rightful place.”

“Yeah…It doesn’t work like that. I don’t know if he has any plans to leave this place to any of his grandchildren. So don’t bite the hand that feeds you. You know?”

“What are you saying?” She sniped at him, “Fairy’s don’t bite, and your grandfather does not feed us!”

“It’s an expression… Just ah… never mind. Look he can sell this land to someone who would chop down your tree. So maybe, for your own good, you should stop messing with him.”

She sat back in the nook of the tree, crossed her arms over herself and looked down in a petulant way.

“I’m sorry.” George said to her kindly. “I know it must suck… ah, be bad, to have your home’s safety be out of your control, and I want to help you. But you need to help me too, well… help my grandfather.”

She finally looked back at him, her tiny face filled with heartbreak and frustration.

The sound of a motorcycle broke through their moment.

It was the granddaughter next door. She was about his age and that was all George knew about her, but he had always admired her from afar.

“Your grandmother missed her destiny. Don’t miss yours.”

“My destiny? You mean…Her? The girl on the bike?”

“Um hmmm.” But the fairy wasn’t paying him much attention. “I’ll talk to the others.” She said and flew away into the crevice of the tree without a backward glance.

It was dusk now, the sun set behind the hills quicker each night, and George would usually have sat by the tree until the stars came out, instead he found himself wandering out on the ridge of the land that overlooked the bordering properties. He watched the neighbor’s granddaughter weave her motorcycle to the old garage.

George was just working up the nerve to go talk to her when he saw someone walking in the distance. It was his Grandad, holding a gas can!

“No.” George breathed out and took off into a run.

George was way faster than an 85-year-old, but his Grandad still managed to dump the gas out around the tree before George could get there.

“Grandad what are you doing?”

“Ending this.” Grandad said with a demonic expression on his face. He tossed a lit match to the ground and flames burst in a horrifying trail straight to the Pear tree.

George froze, he didn’t know what to do, but it turned out he didn’t need to do anything.

And fairy magic packs one hell of a punch.

A purple light came from the tree and blasted them, throwing him and his grandfather to the ground.

When George, disoriented, managed to open his eyes he saw the flames were mostly out and the tree stood unharmed.

The fairies encircled his grandfather’s unconscious body, and an eerie humming filled the air.

“Don’t hurt him!” George called out panicked.

“We’re not, we’re doing what you asked.” His fairy said in a soothing voice. “We’re helping him to find peace.”

A purple glow came from his Grandad and then it seemed to absorb into him. The fairies zipped with a streak of light back into the tree.

He half carried, half dragged his Grandad back to the house and when he still didn’t wake up, George took him to the hospital.

The next day his grandfather didn’t remember anything from the night before but thankfully he did wake up and he was in an oddly pleasant state. It was the happiest George had seen his Grandad since…well…ever.

“George my boy.” Grandad said in a jovial voice. “I’m getting out today and I’ve decided I’m done with the farm. Your sister has found me a senior’s living condo and I’m going for it. She says I can stay with her until I officially move in. And since I’m giving the farm to you, you can deal with moving out all my stuff.” He ended with a happy cackle.

“You’re giving me the farm?” George stammered.

“Yup, it’s what Louise always wanted. From the time you were a little boy she said the pear tree took to you, and I don’t understand it, but I think she was right. So take care of her George.”

Grandad gave a very bemused George a pat on the back and sauntered out of the hospital room.

So George went back to his farm and a very happy Pear Tree.

And the girl next door… yes. She was his destiny.