Those dastardly ladies at the red dress club thought it would be fun to toy with me this week.
The Red Writing Hood challenge is:
Write a morality tale based on forgiveness but written with the fantasy genre in mind - create a whole new world comprised of supernatural phenomenon.
Seriously? Fantasy is not my friend.
That is, with the possible exception of Orlando Bloom. He can be my friend anytime.
"Look," I said, pacing back and forth, "I've been a tooth fairy for three years. I've done bicuspids. Molars. Lateral incisors. I think I know what I'm talking about."
Sprite pushed down his glasses, placed his quill on his mushroom desk, and smiled softly. "Drake, nobody is questioning your talents. You have harvested more teeth than any other fairy in the glen. You're good. Thanks to you, we had a record harvest of dentine and cementine."
He chuckled softly to himself. "Yet...I can't help but remember your first trip out..."
Ah, this again. I forced my lips into a smile, and played along: "I really thought I had found treasure in that glass. I was sure-"
"You were sure that plastic teeth soaking in green salts were going to make you King of the Fairies!' He laughed openly now, his gossamer wings shaking as he gasped out the words, "You said, 'We're rich, Uncle Sprite! We're rich!'"
I sat down on the acorn chair across from his desk. "What can I say? Rookie mistake."
He winked, and leaned forward, "My boy, those false teeth couldn't power a dandelion, let alone the entire glen! So, remember that, Mr.I-Know-What-I'm-Talking-About. "
I laughed, mainly for his benefit. Clearing my throat, I stated, "I believe I've more than made up for it." I ticked off each point with my finger, "Who tipped you off about the Osmond Family? Gary Busey? Hilary Swank? The National Hockey League?"
He nodded, "Yes, my boy. Thanks to Busey alone, we were able to power up the entire Redwood District. You've always had good instincts. It does, after all, run, in the family."
I stood up, puffed myself up to my full six inches. "You know, I have more ideas. Well beyond finding celebrities with unfortunate teeth. We could really take this to the next level! We've already started with harvesting the cemeteries....it seems logical that we would harvest the..."
Sprite held up a hand, "Don't say it. Just--"
"I'm not finished!" I said, "All those teeth...all that potential power...just sitting there..wasting away. I can't believe we are talking about this again! Or more specifically, not talking about it again."
I ran my fingers through my hair, gestured towards the bar, "Do you mind?"
Sprite opened his hands, "By all means, son." I poured myself a nectar, drank it in one swift gulp.
The familiar liquid softness did nothing to slow the pounding of my heart, the energy pulsing from my head to my wingtips. "Will you just consider the idea?"
He frowned, his eyes dark unrepentant caverns. "No, Drake. No I will not. We are fairies. We are not monsters. It's a---"
I pointed a finger in his face, my voice steely, "I know, I know, it's a business. We take the teeth when they don't see, we pay them a handsome fee. GROW UP, Sprite!"
I turned my back to him, my fingernails cutting into the palms of my hands, "They don't need them all, anyway," I mumbled. "Just a quick yank, a bit of blood, and the toothy riches could be ours."
I felt his rooty knarl of a hand rest on my shoulder, "You have had so much taken from you," he whispered. "I haven't forgotten. First your father's accident.. And then her. I'm so, so sorry that she never came back."
Mom. She left for England years ago. Seeking riches, seeking teeth. Plenty of both there.
I turned to him, and whispered, "It's just not right." I bowed my head. "It's just not right at all."
He held me and said, "You're right. It isn't right." He pressed his forehead against mine and whispered, not unkindly, "But, my boy, learn from her mistakes.You can't take things from people. You can't take away a childhood. You can't take a living tooth. It always, always leaves a gaping hole."