The fairy of Bare Arse


09/09/2016 by Carl Reynolds


So disappointed to only inherit the rock two metres below the water. Rich with kelp, swarming with fish and anenomes and an assortment of other tasty delights, but always below the water. Even on the equinoctial springs, it readied tantalisingly below the surface. And so Zar grew callous and his mind twisted itself into a nagging notion that his brothers and sisters were mocking his watery inheritance.

For some time the Seith had kept themselves well out of human sight. Long gone were the days of talks and games with the Wanderers, the Edgers and the Magickal. Now it was all haste, noise and waste from the Humes. And so the Folk had lived out of sight and fading from mind for many a long year. But Zar was so woven into his jealous rage that he determined to seek revenge on his kin. At first he had no idea how, until one late September day, with the moon full and the tide low, a boat ran aground on his submarine abode, woke him from his slumber and launched him into an act of unparalleled vindictiveness.

Delving into the dark magic his kind knew, he drained the yachtsman of his soul. And using the great power so gained, raised his rock a little higher. This he did for a couple of times a year, and then more, and his rock edged higher for many years. At first his kin noticed not a thing. Then they began to remark on Zar’s lack of whinge. And then, at the margins of their thoughts, they began to think that he was indeed a little higher.

Meanwhile, back in the world of the Humes, a medical mystery had been puzzling doctors, scientists and conspiracy theorists for decades. Why, once in a while, did yachtsmen and women arrive in port, mechanically functioning, but reduced to automatons with no memories of who they were or, indeed, any recollection of any past whatsoever. Some concluded that they had suffered unusual concussions, others that they had been subject to alien experiment. But one young Edger who sat on the rocks overlooking the sea contemplating infinity, discerned some pattern, a slight disturbance in the flow and, in a feat not achieved for many a century, thought so particularly, that the Seith grasped her awareness and, in a moment of instant illumination, gathered what Zar had been up to.

Michael was an alcoholic. Married three times and reduced to genteel poverty, he sailed his yacht as much as possible to escape the disapproving glances of his neighbours; of his red bulbous nose, his random explosions of incoherent rage and the clear dishevelment of his home and garb. One dusk, in his cups, he ran aground outside the harbour. Zar pounced and felt the lights go out. Zar was in darkness, with no feeling and no sense of his physical self. A while later he experienced movement and realized he was embedded in Michael’s mind, with no way to influence him, but myriad ways of sensing his decrepitude and abhorrent rage. His brothers and sisters signed and continued their ways.


2 thoughts on “The fairy of Bare Arse

  1. One day I am going to swim out to that rock. Massive current though.

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Places to swim etc


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