Haley Thistle
patreon
The Fairy Godmother: Part One (complete)
🕑 Added 2020-07-10 19:01:00 +0000 UTC
The Blessed Silver School for Boys had already been a fading relic when I came to it. I studied there as a boy, sent into its halls by my father. I was unsure why he did such a thing, as our family wasn’t affluent, nor were we known for having any sort of education. It made me angry to be sent away. I just wanted to be with my family. But every time I went home, I began to realize that was not the place I wanted to be.
My mother was controlling and possessive, but in small, soft ways that I never would have seen had I stayed home. It became apparent to me that my father sent me away for my own well-being; he could not escape, but I could. One too many times I had become wise to her games. The way she played the victim and the way she cried - once it stopped working on me, I saw who she truly was. Vicious and spitting bones, she lashed out at me, blaming me for things I had nothing to do with. But I knew by then her unhappiness was all her own doing.
I returned to the Blessed Silver School for Boys and never left. Upon graduating, I changed my name to Zelazny, and adopted the nickname Fable. I did not want to risk anything, and I did not want to return home. I would never go back to that place.
I took up a job at the school teaching, something I was good at but rarely enjoyed. It was a means to an end. I took no joy in seeing the students, nor in furthering their education. They were forced to be here and I forced myself to stay, and that was about all we had in common.
The years went by, and I became headmaster of the school. At this point the institution was on the verge of decay. There were very few students who attended, and teachers were leaving for better places. Since there were so few students, the funding was drying up rapidly. There were threats of shutting the school down, but I feared if I left Blessed Silver or the town of Silverlake itself, my mother would find me. In a last-ditch effort, I sank every penny I had into buying the school myself. I renovated it and turned it into a boarding house for young women. My original intent had been to provide housing for young women going to school or traveling, a safe haven of sorts. But it all took a strange turn, and my boarding house became known for something else.
Young women arrived, rarely staying more than nine months at a time. Their families sent them to allow them to ‘recuperate’ and to be educated into fine young ladies. Somewhere along the way, these poor girls had fallen victim to their own needs, or to the needs of others. They came to me pregnant, then left me as fine, upstanding girls again. I provided the best care for these women and the eventual babies they bore. The girls were encouraged to take classes. Those who had been greatly affected by their condition received special treatment in the attic.
The fate of the babies was often left a mystery to the ones who bore them. There would be instances where the family would ‘adopt’ the child to raise. The more likely circumstance was that the family paid extra for us to take care of the child. Usually, the baby had a place to go once it was born. Other needy families would bid for the expected child, taking it and raising it as their own. And there were the sad occasions where the new life had nowhere to go after birth. But they are too few to mention.
The halls sound haunted these days with the wails and moans of the girls within them. In sadness and in pain, they are like spirits here. The souls of the mistreated and forgotten, they wander around as if lost. Trapped between worlds, they linger until they can leave, neither alive nor dead in the eyes of the families who sent them here.
The Blessed Silver Boarding House for Girls is never empty. Our rooms are always full, our hearths are always warm, but the curtains are never open. I like it that way, even if it feels sometimes like the place is haunted. I don’t like feeling alone here.
I am truly bedeviled when I am alone. I lock the doors, hoping to keep some sense of sanity and safety. When I was a child, I would watch the open door at the foot of my bed, fearing my mother would appear there. If she was not happy, then no one could be happy. If she felt that no one loved her, then she made us pay. It was why my father sent me away.
It was on nights where I was alone that she came to me through open doorways, or the cracks in the wardrobes. I had no clue if she was alive or dead, or if this was a specter of my own imagination. She would crawl out and hunch over me, breathing softly and exuding the scent of pine. Her hands would reach out and stroke me before those long, bony fingers slipped around my throat.
I stopped staying at the schoolmaster’s house, and instead began to live in the school. I had been penniless when I reopened the doors, so I rented out my home for extra funds. The money came in slowly at first, but over the years, I gained a reputation and could name my price. It was a shock to see how willing people were to hide their wretched daughters until they gave birth. Even more surprising were the lengths people would go to just to have children. Within the same walls, babies were cursed and blessed by the same parents. Conceived the supposed right way, they were miracles, but conceived in the allegedly wrong way and they are sins.
I had first seen this with my mother, and convinced myself that she was a rare case. But the more I saw at the boarding house, the more I was aware that she was just one of many. Locked doors were fine when they were locked, but god forbid you ever open them.
My staff was able to live in a portion of the house - cooks, maids who also acted as nurses, and the few doctors I kept on hand. ‘Disgraced’ is a word that could be used for my staff. ‘Fallen from grace’ sounds much more forgiving. It isn’t always your fault when you fall. Some of the staff are former residents of the boarding house, young women who chose not to go home, or who came here with no money at all. The doctors are in hiding as well, using the walls of the boarding house like armor. I don’t ask questions and they perform admirably. They know that one wrong step can lead to their presence being known again.
I have an office and bedroom within the boarding house, but I also have a home in Silverlake. But I stayed at the boarding house almost exclusively. I see my mother emerging from my wardrobe, her fingers grab me from under my bed. I stay at the school because someone is always close by, even if my doors remain locked at all times. I believe that, without a key, my mother can’t bother me.
I only allowed a single maid in my bedroom, and my office is for business only, as I keep my full safe there. The maid is paying off her debt. She came here as a resident, with barely a cent to her name. She had come from a town adjacent to Silverlake, I am led to believe. Having heard about the board house, she brought herself here to be tended to.
She’s an alluring creature, strange in behavior, but lovely to behold. Her hair is thick and curly, almost completely wild. Her skin is golden like honey, and her eyes are completely black. If they have color, I can never see it. Her steely gaze often frightens the other girls. They call her creepy and weird, but she’s fascinating to me. She never did give me her name. She said it was a bad omen to give your name so freely. She simply goes by Danvers.
She revels in scaring the girls with stories of horror and gore, laughing at the reactions around her. The way she moves is haunting - sometimes graceful and ethereal, other times jerky and disjointed.
I notice early on in Danvers’ stay that whenever I’m in the room, she would stare at me with a slight smile on her face. It’s terrifying in a way, like a hawk spotting a fish in a stream. Yet in spite of my fear, I find myself extremely attracted to her.
When she began working as a maid and nurse, I was impressed by her work ethic. She was excited to work with the doctors, and claimed she was ‘tantalized’ by blood. It made me wonder if she was some sort of creature from another world; a demon, a vampire, a succubus. Whatever she is, I feel drawn to her physically and mentally.
One evening I’m going over paperwork while Danvers is cleaning the fireplace, and I slice my finger on the razor-like edge of a paper. Blood rises like beads to the surface of my skin. Danvers is instantly by my side, standing over me with a smile that verges on wicked. She forcibly grabs my hand and her warm, wet tongue curls around my finger. Her eyes bore into mine as she slips my finger between her pursed lips, moaning and whimpering like a lusty heathen.
My blood surges through my body in terror and elation. “Tell me what you are,” I snarled at her. “Be you some common wench with a penchant for chaos, or a thing from some shadows I cannot see into.”
Danvers chuckles, releasing my finger with a catlike grin on her face. “I’ll show you my shadows,” she replies with a husky murmur. “I have been wanting this for ages.”
Her kiss is hungry and all-consuming. She bites my lip and sucks my tongue, voraciously consuming me like a beast. I want her, and I know I did from the moment those black eyes first fell upon me. She has become a need I would die without.
My locked doors only open for her. I let her take me and rule over me when they’re closed. She rides me like she’s fleeing from hell, and I love every instant of it. Her wild and uninhibited nature makes me think of her as a beast. But she is my beast.
Outside the locked doors, Danvers never lets on to her desire for me. Around others she treats me as strangely as she does anyone else. I suppose she likes the secrecy of our lovemaking. Once we are secluded from the world we become lovers again. It excites me to feel her on me - her lips, her tongue, her teeth. I would accept anything she gave me.
“You seem like such a fine, upstanding man,” she pants one evening. She is on top of me, her hands pressed firmly against my chest. I take comfort in her being there, as I have always taken comfort in someone sharing my bed. It makes me feel safe, and Danvers feels powerful and warm. “Do you not worry about being with such a hedonistic girl like me?”
“You think I am upstanding?” I laugh. “I have shared my bed with more people than you realize, dear Danvers.”
“Tell me about them,” she moans. She thrusts her chest out, tilting her head back as she takes me deeply.
“Back when this was a boy’s school, my classmates and I took comfort in one another. When I became headmaster, there were some of the teachers who took great pleasure in my company.” I run my hands up her chest, groping her breasts.
She leans down so her hair blankets me, and all I can see is her face grinning at me. “You don’t like being alone, do you?”
“Bad things come to me when I am alone.” I kiss her as her teeth sink into my lip. It doesn’t matter to me what she gives me or how she gives it, I would be grateful for anything.
One day, a scream rings throughout the boarding house. It comes from outside, and at the shore of the lake we find the body of a girl. The pockets of her dress are filled with stones. She was a resident of the boarding house who was due to go home. Danvers is there, watching with a stricken expression. She turns to me as I approached, her black eyes wide and her mouth open.
“Go back inside, all of you.” I order. “We shall handle this.” The staff and I are trying to disperse the crowd of girls who have gathered, sobbing disconsolately.
“I didn’t get here in time,” Danvers whispered. “I couldn’t grant it.”
I furrow my brow at her as she stares at the body. “Couldn’t grant what?” I ask. “Danvers?”
She looks back at me, closing her mouth and lifting her chin before leaving in silence.
The doctors and I pull the girl to shore and onto a gurney. Her skin looks like wet paper, like it would fall away if I touched it. Her head turns as the doctors lift the gurney, and I see something in her mouth. It’s a piece of paper covered in writing. I take the letter with me to my office while her body is removed. The ink has run, but I can make out the letter still.
‘I do not wish to return home, nor do I ever wish to return here. I know I will come back, as the true criminal in all this resides in my own home. He sent me here and called me names. He derided me and abused me, all while he had been the perpetrator of my affliction. He has done it before and he will do it again and again until he is dead. He has taken my control from me, so I will take myself away from him. Do not take this as a mournful testimony, but as one of anger. I hope to God I never leave the earth and instead remain here to make his life a living hell. I give my wishes to the heavens that they make his life long and empty, and tortured by my presence.’
I am used to anger, but now my blood boils. In a way, I hope this girl’s final wish is granted. But in another way I hope she finds peace.
“What does it say?”
I look up to see Danvers standing over me. “See for yourself.”
She sits down on my desk as she reads over the page. Her expression goes blank and her mouth parts slightly. “What a wretched creature.” She lays the note down.
“Her short time here was torture,” I sigh.
“Not her,” Danvers shakes her head. “This man.” A look of glee and excitement comes over her face. “Don’t you think he deserves torture?”
I eye her curiously, examining her joyful expression. “Possibly,” I reply. “But what can we do about it?”
“We let this girl’s spirit do as it wishes.” Danvers slips off the desk, taking the note as she goes towards the fireplace. “The attic is filled with wails like these. Of women crying for revenge.” She turns back and looks at me and, for a moment, her eyes look golden. “I have heard them all from my time being here. I have listened to these women cry in anguish. The halls are haunted by their desires.”
I furrow my brow at her. “It is not my place to step into these affairs.”
“But don’t you want to?” she hisses.
“You’re scaring me.” I stand up from my desk. “I don’t understand your wishes or what you are aiming for, but leave me out of this.”
Her eyes widen ever so slightly. “But you’re what I need, Sir.”
My skin bristles as she speaks. She clutches the letter to her chest and watches me intently. I look away from her, focusing on the top of my desk.
“I know you’re angry,” she whispers. “I know you’ve suffered, too. You’re haunted, the same as these girls. That is why you do not leave this place, is it not?” Danvers comes close and touches my face, and I lean into her palm. “Isn’t that why you cling so tightly to me at night?”
I turn my head to kiss her palm. I capture her hand and kiss down her arm until I am biting her neck. She giggles happily and cups her hand around the back of my head.
“Let’s help this poor girl, Sir,” Danvers moans. “Let’s grant her wish.”
Danvers leads me down into the basement where the girl’s body is lying on a table and covered by a cloth. Danvers uncovers the body and looks fondly down at it. She kisses its forehead, then steps back and looks at me.
“What… what are you going to do?” I whisper in fright.
Danvers takes my hand and jabs a pin into my finger. I flinch in pain and cry out. The blood flows from the tip as she squeezes. Then she guides my hand, painting my blood upon the body. She makes strange markings on the chest and face before she places the note back into the mouth.
“Your blood holds powerful magic,” Danvers breathes. “I can see what you are, no matter how you try to hide it.” She smirks at me, then licks my finger, sucking it to taste my blood. “I know you.”
I wrench my hand away. “This is quite enough.”
“Your mother was a witch, was she not? A lady of the Owl Tribe?” She grins at me and turns back to the body, encircling the head with her hands. She grunts and moans, undulating her entire body as she pulses the head up and down, up and down. Her eyes roll back into their sockets, going completely white. Her mouth opens wide and her tongue turns black, and the blackness spreads to her lips and cheeks into her veins and through her eyes.
The corpse begins to twitch. It surges and bucks and writhes on the table. I stand away, watching in horror as the body levitates off the table. It pulses and shakes, contorting and relaxing. It radiates an overwhelming heat that burns my eyes, and all at once it bursts into flames and its feet touch the ground.
Danvers’ neck jerks and pops, and her body twitches and moves in a strange, almost insect-like way. She grins at the fiery corpse before her as it walks towards the fireplace.
“You’re free to seek your revenge now,” Danvers sighs. Her lips turn pink again. “Your wish is granted.”
The body stoops down and crawls into the fireplace, then pushes itself up through the chimney. I stand in shock, using my wings to cover myself as Danvers approaches me again, looking at me in my true form. Her eyes roll back into place, and I see the golden glimmer in them once again.
“What have you done?” I shudder. “What is it that you have unleashed upon the world?”
Danvers touches her neck, popping it as it goes back into place. “I have set nothing upon the world. Just one person, perhaps a household.” She gives me a grin. “I have granted the wish of a soul done wrong. It will live free now, and it will find peace.”
“It was on fire!” I point my shaking finger towards the fireplace. Smoke and ash sizzle from the logs even still. “It looked like it was from hell!”
Danvers’ eyes glint with humor. “Fire comes from all places, and it is neither evil nor good. It is the intentions of humans that are to be judged.” Danvers holds her hand out to me. “There is much more to be done here, and I need your help to accomplish it.”
I look at her eyes, then down at her palm. I take it, and she gently grasps my hand, locks the door and takes me into her arms. I am assured by the locked door, and I begin to relax as Danvers comforts me. She whispers ‘thank yous’ into my ear and presses my back against the wood.
I wake in the morning to see smoke rising from Silverlake. I am told there was a fire, and that there is a survivor in the hospital. I am sure they don’t feel so lucky.
Danvers brings me tea that morning, a smug look on her face as she serves me. “Is there good news from town?” she asks me.
I look up at her and, with a sigh, I touch her wrist. “Tell me, my dear - what exactly are you?” I trail my fingers up her arm. “And what are you doing here?”
Danvers looks at me with a smile. “I came here out of need, and stayed for the same reason.” She places a teacup before on the desk. “I have been taking in the wishes and the desires of the young women who come into these walls. I have listened to their anger and sorrows, and I have let them linger in this house.”
“What do you mean?” I whisper.
Danvers smiles at me. “I grant the wishes of young women.” She slips her fingers under my chin. “Have you read the story of Cinderella?”
I watch her, waiting for her to finish.
“She, much like these girls here, was treated horribly. I granted her wish, and her sisters suffered because of it. Now, I grant the wishes of these girls. It is their anguish which calls to me, and these walls are like honeycombs filled to the brim with it.” She slowly places herself on my lap. “It drips with a honey-like decadence. I was drawn here, and I will remain here.”
She kisses me, and I place my hands around her waist. “But what about me?” I ask.
Danvers licks my lips. “You are just like them - haunted, enraged, and tainted.” She kisses me again, and I wrap my arms around her in a tight embrace.
“You also have powerful magic.” She kisses my neck, slowly scraping her teeth down. Her teeth break skin on my shoulder and she laps up the blood. “One you do not use, and one I can feed upon. You and I are a match.” She reaches down, stroking my prick as she drinks my blood. “Perfect and inseparable.”
Danvers took me to the attic, where she rips open the walls like flesh to show me what has been building up there for years. The hate, the rage, the pain that has been suffered in these walls has manifested into a single entity. It was what called Danvers here and what begged her to stay.
“This is like a hive,” she tells me. “The girls bring in their suffering like pollen. It clings to them. That pollen ripens into honey that is thick and rich with their suffering. These girls feel lost and trapped in the world.” She turns and looks up at me, dark eyes boring into me. “You’ve allowed this place to become saturated, and now it’s haunted by emotion.”
I think about my mother, and the ghost of her I fear. Is it really her, or is it my own feelings towards her that are haunting me?
Danvers sticks her hand into the wall, and I hear squelches and moans. The cries of the women who have been here echo from within while her hand sinks in deeper. Her eyes grow wide, and her grin grows much bigger. She pulls her hand out and it is coated in a red, glossy substance. She licks it off her finger and exhales steam from her nose.
“How do you help these girls?” I step towards her. “All you do is allow them to hurt others.”
“I know it is not agreeable. But it is my way.” She licks the corner of her mouth as she turns towards me again.
“But why must you do it? Why is that the way?” I place my hand on her arm. “Must there be such violent means?”
She grabs my wrist and holds it fast. “Would you not kill the thing that haunts you? If it came back for you, if it wrapped its hands around your throat, would you not fight for your life even if it was violent to do so?”
I frown down at her. “That is why I remain here. I keep myself away from it. I do not want to know what will happen should I ever cross paths with her again.”
Danvers’ gaze turns sour and sharp. “Her?” She takes my hand, then cups her palm around my face. “Don’t hide it,” she hisses. “Let me feel it, let me hear that agony.”
I cast my eyes down as she touches me. Her fingers move over my lips and then she moves closer to me. “I see,” she whispers. She takes a breath, and I feel ghostly fingers around my neck. I gasp in alarm as tears come to my eyes.
“It’s not real, it’s just the memory. The walls make it feel real.” She brushes my neck, and I no longer feel the fingers. She dabs the tears from my eyes and pulls me close. “Now I am angry. Whoever hurt you will never lay a cold finger on you again. You are mine, and I will protect you viciously, Sir.”
I lean down to meet her kiss, and there is something sweet on her tongue. She pulls away, gazing into my eyes. “We shall rip apart the world, you and I,” she moans. “From here on out, the two of us will see the agony of this house relieved.”
Comments
Jennifer Lynn Bolan
This makes me feel many things, like the sad-sweet of Great Expectations and Pip and Stella, but with more color.
