Short Change Hero

The cackling wolves stare through the dark fog at Fern. Their glowing eyes pierce the fog and terrified wolf alike. As Fern cowers against the stone pillar, she has the vague sense that those glowing orbs gaze into the very depths of her soul. Fear squeezes her heart, spreading its icy tendrils throughout her body and causing her muscles to seize up. She is paralyzed, only able to watch as Meadow tries to intervene on her behalf. As the ghosts talk, Fern feels the thick, tacky substance running freely down her face. Her ears are starting to feel clogged with the ooze, no longer able to hear the apparitions voices as her eyes struggle to focus.

Fern’s mouth hangs open, trying to allow the ooze in the back of throat an escape route out of her body. However, the gray girl soon feels the thick ooze start to slid backwards and down into her lungs. The sensation is strange as it coats her bronchial tubes and penetrates into the alveoli sacks in each lung. Breathing becomes a monumental task. Each inhalation causes Fern’s chest to heave as she works to force air past the ooze. When she exhales, there is an audible rattle that accompanies the breath leaving her mouth.

If her vision wasn’t so hazy, Fern would see that, as each breath passes her lips on the way out of her body, it becomes a glowing mist. It almost appears as if the temperature has dropped and each puff of forced air is expelled out into a cloud of steam. Except… it looks nothing like a normal steam cloud. There are small, bright, glowing particles that are expelled outward into a mist as she wheezes for each breath. The vapor drifts lazily up and away from the sick girl, the glowing cloud eventually flickering out of existence.

Fern cannot focus on anything except the task of trying to get oxygen into her body. Head spins as fear triggers her to try and suck in air faster and at a shallower rate. The world grays out as the girl focuses on slowing the rapid respirations and instead, deepen each breath to allow more oxygen to enter her lungs. After a few minutes, the world swims back into focus and Fern realizes she is once more alone in the fog. Head turns trying to find her mother’s form but there is only the mist and her.

As her breathing settles into a new deeper, wheezing rhythm, Fern watches hundreds of blue fireflies appear. Perhaps, in her oxygen starved mind, the gray girl does not remember the events that lead to this moment; how she had once sat on these creatures and endured the uncomfortable feeling of them under her skin. Or maybe it is the events of the night that lead the sick girl to smile at the dancing lights. In the fog of Fern’s mind, a memory flickers to life like the light of bugs around her.

Meadow had awoken her daughter one summer evening. The sleepy Fern had groggily asked what the woman wanted and her mother bid her to follow. The groggy girl had, begrudgingly, abandoned the warm furs to follow her mother. Sleepily the pup had followed her mother out into the middle of a small meadow, watching as the sun started to slip below the horizon. Taking a seat next the woman as she tried to rub the sleep from her eyes, Fern whined, “Mommy. What are we doing here?” Aqua gaze looked into the gentle emerald eyes of her mother.

A smile had appeared on Meadow’s face as she pulled the small pup toward her. A kiss was planted on Fern’s head as Meadow whispered, “We are about to watch a very special dance.” All Fern wanted was to go back to their den and sleep. However, the small pup did not want to disappoint her mother, so she had settled against her mother’s chest and awaited the dance. It hadn’t taken long as the sunlight started to fade, for the fireflies to come to life, each small light seemed to burst to life against the darkening sky. Wonder-filled eyes had watched as the lights appeared and floated around the sitting wolves.

It had been Fern’s first time seeing fireflies and the amazed pup had watched the magical dance for hours. Her inquisitive mind had caused Fern to ask her mother multiple questions and Meadow had smiled brightly as she answered each one. When Meadow had finally dragged the sleepy Fern back toward their den, the pup had felt a profound sadness as she watched the fireflies disappear from her view. As Meadow tucked her in, Fern asked, “Mommy, will we ever see the fireflies again?” Meadow’s gentle voice had promised her they would see them again and Fern had fallen asleep to dreams of dancing lights.

Blinking away the memory, Fern wonders if she has stepped into one of those dreams. She feels peaceful even as she struggles to breathe. As wonder filled eyes watch, the fireflies move to form a trail their soft light coaxing her onward. Paws move on their own accord, pulling the sick girl with them. The trek is short but slow, the gray girls labored breathing can be heard from quite a distance away. There are a couple times that Fern has to stop and cough out huge globs of ooze that have completely blocked her airway.

As she follows the lighted trail of fireflies, weaving around stone pillars, Fern wonders where they are taking her. She does not have to wait long for an answer as a table and robed figure come into view. The tired girl comes to a stop a respectable distance from the hooded figure and its table of wares. Eyes roam over the items as the shopkeeper speaks to her, telling her about the items and choosing wisely. Aqua gaze looks up into the darkness where a face should be and feels its blue eyes bore into her soul.

Fern feels defenseless against that gaze, as if all her faults and shortcomings have been laid bare for the creature to see. Yet, she cannot look away, the blue eyes, the same color of the fireflies, seem to move. After several moments looked into eye contact with this mysterious being, Fern diverts her eyes away and sucks in deep breath only to end up coughing it and more ooze back out a second later. The ooze covers her face as she bows her head in respect to the being.

Head lifts back up and she once more meets its eyes. Breathlessly, Fern says, “I am sorry but I do not have the currency you seek. I also have nothing to offer you. However, I give you my thanks. If even for a brief moment, I was able to remember a happier time and leave the hell that is my mind.” By the time she finishes, Fern is panting with the effort of speaking and trying to breath. Stepping back from the table, Fern offers the creature a deeper bow and wheezes out, “Thank you for this moment of respite.” Standing back up, Fern dips her head in farewell and turns to leave.


"Speech"