Mutant

1

I never knew it until it was too late. I was a writer and writers are supposed to be clever, to know better. But I didn't. Proves to you what a lousy writer I have been all along, not to mention the real value of the pretence masked as glory I was bathing in. Didn't admit the facts till this very moment; well, it is never too late to make amendments to one's own opinion of self, correct? Especially if put in writing so as to bear witness to this fact. 2

My friends, dear readers, much respected critics - I hereby declare that fairies exist. I met one. I loved one. I lost one. Thus I know what no other human does and if my present status of advanced insanity should be accepted as proof to anything, then let it be accepted as proof to this very fact. I am now way beyond it, living in the eluding moments of lingering thereafter and fading nevermore, and all I can do is either cry myself to death, or tell it so others will not repeat my mistake. I chose to do... both. After all, as many generations of illustrious pen pushers said it before me - I... am only human.3

#4

I woke up, curled, shivering. A strange smell lingered in the room, a mix of soap, and old wood and... woman. I felt disoriented for a short moment, the short slivers of dreams that permeated my sleep and kept my body tossing inside the sweaty bed sheets having induced a state of hallucination over my mind. Did it happen? Was this tune that kept repeating itself in my head a memory, an invitation?5

The waking clock buzz sounded almost immediately after, and I cursed my mind's biological clock that woke me up in the middle of the dream just because it wanted to beat its mechanical brother in their continuous effort to control my life. I hit the mechanical button savagely, wishing I could do the same with its biological counterpart and dragged my feet to the bathroom yawning luxuriously. I showered in a hot steaming stream feeling reality soaking in industriously via my opening pores, dried myself with the towel still carrying traces of humidity from last night, shaved, and returned to the bedroom to pick up a fresh underwear set.6

"Hi..." she mumbled, eyes half closed as she passed me for her turn to the bathroom, stopped for an eyes closed wet and deep kiss, then continued on her way. I remembered to close my mouth and start shivering just when I felt liquid probably pertaining to me start drooling down my chin from my open mouth. I didn't yet move, and tried the trick widely quoted in books - pinched myself just to ensure I am not dreaming. Well, it hurt like hell but I knew I must have been dreaming. I needed another test, more reliable... no, what the hell another test, I knew I was not dreaming. Have I been so drunk last night that I brought this woman back with me and did not remember it? No chance there either as last night I came straight home from work and the last thing I drank before going to bed was a cup of hot green tea. Food poisoning?7

The bathroom door was open. I decided that if I spent the night with this stranger then there are not many untold secretes between us. Or visual ones, for that matter. I pulled on hastily a pair of briefs, followed her to the bathroom and pulled the plastic curtain aside. Hot water was pouring over a godly figure, sunset red hair hanging over firm small breasts and guiding the cascading fury down long its knee length smoothness, curved eyelashes holding tiny rainbows between each pair of short hair ends dressing festively rosy eyelids pulled protectively over forest green eyes... Forest green?... I suddenly caught myself thinking, how the hell do I know of forest green? I kept looking, hypnotized by those humming lips carrying a short slash on the lower one, tiny drops of red pushing their way lazily out to be washed away by the incandescent torrent. The red stain at the side of my mouth... I remembered in a flash that I wondered while I was shaving where did it come from. I started shivering again.8

She closed the tap, groping blindly for a towel and I hurried to handle her a dry one. Then she opened... of course... forest green eyes and started drying herself.9

"Who are you?" I finally dared to ask, not waiting for her to finish.10

"You don't remember me, do you?" she smiled.11

"No, I don't. Tell me."12

"Great, everything just as they said it will be." She got out of the bathroom, her body covering itself in one smooth movement... I gasped... with a pink tee shirt, a pair of faded jeans and white tennis socks, passed behind me patting my butt and went to sit before the mirror. There she started brushing her hair in long, slow strokes. "Some things I hate doing so I get them done for me, like dressing. Some I love, so I do myself, like brushing my hair. Mind helping me?" She handed me over the brush. I took it without thinking and started brushing these long unending strands of hair. I could not talk for a few minutes, and it seemed like she did not want to talk at all, eyes closed and a purring sound escaping her throat.13

"What was that?" I finally blurted, my voice sounding like a frog just out of kindergarten. "What kind of a trick was that?"14

"What trick was what?... oh, the dressing trick. Come here." She beckoned me with her little finger and I obeyed moving in front of her. She took my hand, threw the brush on the bed and pulled me down to sit on her knees. I felt ridiculous but did not dare object. "Every day the same question..." she rubbed noses, kissed me lightly then floated over to the bed where I found myself seated by her side. She turned the TV on with the remote control. "I hate TV," she giggled, "but it keeps the neighbours from listening in... not that they could, actually..." She chose a sales channel, hooked her arm into mine and let her cheek lean on my shoulder. "I still have one year to graduation, therefore I am not perfect yet. You were not supposed to wake up before I leave. And every day I have to repeat my story. But it is fine, I do not mind it. I love you, you know that, don't you?"15

I felt somewhere between boiling and dying and running away from this wacko and her tricks or whatever's.16

"Every day? Love you? What is going on here in God's name?" My heart was pounding wildly, my thoughts rushing like tiny trapped animals inside my skull's cage, her touch was melting me, her fragrance devastatingly invading my nostrils... Against any logic, against my own will, I started stroking her hair with my fingers.17

"You cannot resist, I know. I could not resist either. You are an adult, a mature man. You are a writer. You wrote about me. I am almost a fairy. I reached a stage where I was allowed to choose which wish to follow. Everyone else chose to follow a non human wish. I am the first one in many generations to follow a human wish, even though my teachers warned me bitterly against it. I don't know why they warned me. I don't know why I chose your wishes. Maybe your words were just what I was waiting to hear from the moment I was born? I came over. I transformed. I am your fairy. We are in love."18

Insanity was the only explanation. Or dream. Both seemed to be excluded. I waited for her to continue, and as it seemed that she has no intention to do so, I tried to goad her into it.19

"Tell me, please, I do not remember a thing. What is this all about? It looks insane, is it?" The fact that the clock on the wall did not move at all since the moment I first saw her did not register as curious to me. Probably the battery is dead, I thought to myself, knowing that I lie to myself. "Is it a dream?" 20

She pinched me hard and I yelped.21

"See? No dream..." she laughed, and laid one leg over mine. God knows I had no intention to run away, but maybe she was not so sure. "You were my graduation assignment. My final thesis, a one year long research on a subject of our choice.  I fell in love with my assignment..." and she exploded in a crystalline laughter that penetrated my senses like the music of creation.22

"So you are some kind of sorceress? I don't believe in all this hocus-pocus."23

"You saw how fast I dressed, didn't you?"24

"Illusion, drugs..." and I kept stroking her hair, letting my fingers wander from time to time over the visible tips of her breasts. She shivered with pleasure.25

"We are watching this world through senses alien to you, we do not live in it unless if by choice, like I am doing now. I am what you would call a fairy, though your human perception of a fairy is far different from reality. My world has different rules, different senses. Some of them are common to both worlds. Like love."26

"And would you, a fairy, fall in love with me, a human? And why don't I remember a thing? And how old are you?" I insisted logically, yet feeling that I start losing ground extremely fast. Maybe it was a dream after all and even the pinching was part of it? Something was bubbling inside my chest, a softness, a care, a desire... hey, drugs induced addiction, I heard a voice screaming in my head, while another voice kept begging me to listen, to let go, to give in... "How long does this story go on?" I finally asked, pure curiosity playing as much a role here as willingness to know.27

"Five months." I almost choked swallowing my tongue. Incredulity seeping in at an accelerated pace, a laughter building itself up inside me, about to burst... Before I had any chance to explode noisily and break whatever abracadabra was at play, she turned towards me and touched her index finger to my left eye. I froze. I remembered.28

Scenes started rushing through my mind, the first "casual" encounter when I thought that I picked her up when it actually was the other way around, the few dance outings, my growing desire for her presence and the touch of her hand, my awkward invitation that she comes to my place, that first night when we let fire control our senses with incendiary results same as we did every following night with no exception... and love, my God, so much love, where did this huge ocean of sensations hide when I was not remembering. Because I could not remember... not remembering...29

I grabbed her and rolled her over my belly and kissed her savagely. 30

"How old are you?" I asked her, seemed I could remember everything else except for her age.31

"Hey, I am getting better," she smiled, content to lie cuddled over my body and twining her fingers in mine. "Soon we will not have these morning discussions anymore, because I will make you forget more things for longer periods, till we will be perfect. I am seventeen, by the way you count years, I am much older by the way we develop in my world. But you would not understand, so I will not explain. Does it matter? You know you love me."32

"I know I love you. But why do I have to forget every time? Did you explain it to me already?"33

"I did. And every time I do, I am scared of the possible consequences, of a mistake, of forgetting to erase it from your mind and losing you."34

"Losing me?..." I repeated mindlessly, "... losing me when I burn for you like a torch fed by earth's glowing entrails?"35

She kissed my finger tips, guided her hand to my mouth asking for a return of favor, giggled loudly and started whispering. I didn't know if she was telling me so I know or telling me so I don't hear. But I did hear.36

"My teachers warned me of the dangers of following a human wish. Once in our ancient history it happened already. Our world was almost lost because of a male fairy disclosing a few spells to a human lover. It almost led to an invasion. They were both put to death, the first time ever that a death decree was pronounced in our world. It lies like a dark stain forever in our race's collective memory. So I must make you forget every time I leave you, it was the condition to having this assignment accepted. Or never be allowed. I had to agree, I fell in love so desperately with your words that I had to come over..." Silence. "...or die. They accepted it because it is true. They did not want to have another fairy death on our world's conscience. Do you know now how deeply I love you?"37

I hugged her with inhuman strength. I knew how much I loved her, I knew the desperation in my hold, the pain in the wait for the one day when we will be able to carry out this love in the open, make it real, unforgettable. Will we ever?...38

"In a whole world of fairies, how come just one fell for a human?"39

"A simple statistical circumstance, a coincidence, even in my world statistics plays a role. I happened to read your fairy wishing words in one of the books brought over to my school by one of our cross travellers. And only later it was found out that I am a mutant, otherwise I would not have been allowed. A mutant, a fairy able to fall in love with a human. I am probably the only one in my whole world."40

The seconds arm on the wall clock jumped one step and stopped again. The TV noise cacophonically repeating itself, it was just now I paid attention that the picture did not change from the moment she turned it on and only the sound was alive yet making no sense to my hearing.41

"Can you stop time?" I asked her, knowing by now the answer.42

"No, but I can slow it down. Nothing can stop time, not even fairies."43

"Do I have to forget you again? I do not want to forget you, I want to remember you every moment, every instant, I want to walk the street with you on my mind, to work with you before my eyes, to come home knowing that the night will explode in thousands of newly born stars, I love you madly, sacrilegiously, please do not make me forget. I don't give a damn about your spells, and laws, and age, and assignments... I want to remember you, just you. I don't even know your name." I felt querulous, desperate, insanely afraid that I might lose her once she pulls the forgetfulness spell over me again... "When can we be together with no parting... when... " I hesitated, changed my tone..."...can we ever have children together?"44

She screamed with delight, floated up to the ceiling and let gravitation drop her like a liberated stone over my body, knocking my ribs out of place and jarring my teeth as her mouth tried to rend my lips to bleeding pieces. I grabbed her hair, closing my palm to a fist and pulling savagely, tearing... her muffled words of joy letting floods of tears from her eyes drown my own eyes in their wild erupting surge...45

"You never asked before... When I am ready... When you are ready... And... Yes, we can..." 46

And then she touched my left eye with her index finger.47

#48

I locked the door behind me, got into the car and drove to work. It was early and the traffic jams were still way off in the future of the awaking morning. I tried to tune into an oldies station, then at an impulse I turned the radio off and started dreaming. I liked these early driving moments, the daily stress not yet there, the traffic flowing, and my mind playing the first accords to a new poem. Will it be a poem or a story? I asked myself, jotting from time to time a few hurried notes on the dashboard notebook. It was a relatively relaxed day. Most of the office bridged over the Friday making it a long weekend, and I volunteered to stay as I did not have any special plans. I did not feel like socializing lately, good mood controlling my thoughts for most of the time and for unclear reasons, and all my lonely moments filled with writing. I planned on publishing a second book and was busy filling its pages, a dream I intended to re-live. A word intruded inside my thoughts... Remember... what a strange sounding word... I thought for a few seconds, then decided that my next poem will be something around this theme.49

I had a big sandwich for lunch, returned to the office for a couple of hours then decided I had enough of it. Nothing happened, it might as well not happen at home. I closed the computer, sent a kiss the security guard's way and drove home at a relaxed pace. Half of the population had probably taken the Friday off so, like this morning, I drove with no interruptions. I felt happy and never stopped to wonder why. Like I never stopped to wonder why for the whole of the day I never opened my left fist. I felt like this was the natural way of things, when eating, when driving, even when typing on the keyboard. I parked the car in front of the house, locked it and rushed up the stairs carrying the laptop in my right hand. Old Mrs Woods was just descending the stairs and stumbled. I jumped towards her and caught her with my left hand. She got her footing again and thanked me several times on her way down the stairs. I didn't hear her. My gaze fixed on a thin strand of reddish hair curled asleep and forgotten in my left palm, now lazily stretching out and slowly sliding to ground...50

Flashes... images... a memory... I remembered... I heard a heart wrenching scream in my head as I let out a howl and leaped the three floors up to my apartment tearing open the door falling in and encountering just the emptiness of a dark apartment, a messed up bed, and the lingering strange smell of soap, of old wood and... woman.51

#52

I found a clean room and adequate care in the city's mentally disabled hospital. After my breakdown, my request for residence was approved by the judge against furious counter claims from the health insurance company's lawyers. I guess he pitied me, and my story sounded so credible that he concluded I am irreversibly insane. Therefore it would be in everyone's best interest that I be professionally cared for and separated from the rest of the population. I continued writing, staying late every night in the hope that she might show up, that I might hear her, feel her again. The hope never dying. I keep promising my forever silence for just one more night with her, my sanity for just one more kiss, my life for just one more glimpse of her. It keeps me alive. Will she graduate and finally be allowed to return to this world? I don't know. Was it all an insanity dream caused by that small growth in my brain as the doctors claimed or just plain reality as I claimed? I know.53

I never opened my left fist in public since that day. It stayed locked, firm, clenched. Just late evenings, under the secrecy of the yellowish bed side light bulb, I would open it and bring to my lips that single strand of soft silken reddish hair, tasting, kissing, smelling. Oh, that smell of soap, and old wood, and... woman...54