Fairy Godmothers

Fairies are not the sweet, magical creatures of our dreams. They are horrible nightmares. From the Tooth Fairy to woodland sprites, each fairy has its own horrors. But the worst of them all is undoubtedly the Fairy Godmother.

While most fairies attempt to avoid direct contact with humans, Fairy Godmothers seek it out. They prey on children and the weak-minded, attaching themselves telepathically like mental parasites. Their form itself is veiled by ether so that they are nearly undetectable and untouchable. But unfortunately, there are ways to draw them out of the void.

Charles was only four years old when he began acting strange. He solved problems with violence and seemed to revel in the sight of blood. Doctors called him psychopathic and mentally unwell, so at the age of six, he was sent to a mental asylum. The final straw was the killing of his baby sister - he drowned her in the bath. When asked why he did it he replied:

“She was taking Mommy and Daddy's attention away from me. She was a threat.”

His outlook on the situation damned him to a life of experimental procedures and straight jackets. He screamed when they came to take him away, and even bit one of the orderlies in the throat. That action made him too dangerous in the eyes of the doctors to be allowed into the general population of the facility. So he spent his life in solitary confinement.

After six long years of loneliness and countless hours of poking and prodding and sedation and drug-induced elation, a man named Doctor Jonathan Hollstadd came along. He was a pioneer in the field of lobotomization, and the board felt that he could be of great benefit to Charles. He began with a series of interviews.

“What do you feel, Charles?” He asked.

“What do you mean?”

“When you hurt people, what do you feel?”

“I feel good.”

“So you like hurting people? You want to hurt people?”

“Yes.”

“And what do you think makes you want to hurt people?”

Charles paused a moment and thought.

“The voice,” he said.

“What voice? Who is it, Charles?”

Charles struggled more with this question. His brow furrowed in mental exertion, and Dr. Hollstadd waited patiently for his answer. It took some time, but Charles did speak again.

“It’s my friend. I don’t know what they are, but you can’t see them - no one can. No one but me.”

This was in line with the notes that Dr. Hollstadd had in the file he held. But he wanted more information.

“What does your friend look like?”

“They’re old looking. And they used to be skinny, but now they’re fat. They like it that way.”

“Interesting. Are they a boy or a girl?”

“Neither,” said Charles.

“Very interesting. And when they talk to you, what do they say?”

“They tell me what I want, and they tell me how to get it. They tell me what to do to stay safe and strong.”

“Strong? That’s a unique word you’ve used. Why do you need to be strong?”

“Because it’s just me and them. No one else cares or matters. I’ve got to protect myself.”

“Protect yourself from what?”

“From people like you.”

Dr. Hollstadd was intrigued. He asked more questions and got more strange answers. He felt that Charles was a particularly unique individual in the medical sense, and decided he would make a perfect candidate for lobotomy. So he set a date for the procedure.

When that date came, Charles was in rare form. He’d been mostly sedate for the past few months, but now he was lashing out with an energy that they hadn’t witnessed since they had first taken him from his home. He was scared, and even the orderlies felt bad as they held him down and muzzled him. He was just a child, after all. They dragged him kicking and screaming down the halls and struggled to put him into the chair and strap him down. Once they finally had him restrained he thrashed about until they managed to get a syringe of sedatives into him, only after a few moments of the drugs did he settle down.

He whimpered as he saw Dr. Hollstadd approach. Obviously terrified, tears began streaming down Charles’ face. The good doctor took no notice of this as if it were routine. He simply got ready for the procedure as Charles sobbed softly. The orderlies were replaced by two of Dr. Hollstadd’s assistants, bringing with them torturous-looking devices and contraptions.

They set up their equipment next to the chair, bone saws and scalpels glistening with their sterility in the light. Charles continued to sob as they fitted a helmet-like cage with a drill onto his head. He cried out in pain as they anchored it to his skull with screws, all under the doctor’s supervision. Dr. Hollstadd turned around to prep himself at the sink, Charles screaming behind him once again.

“Sedate him further, I don’t need him moving about.”

Suddenly, one of the assistants let out a piercing shriek. Hollstadd spun around and saw red; blood was everywhere. Charles had managed to break free of the restraints and grab a scalpel, slashing one of the nurses throats with it. The other assistant screamed in terror and fell backward as Charles cut himself the rest of the way free and descended upon her. He shoved the scalpel into her eye, over and over and over until she stopped screaming and fighting back - until she lay limp on the floor.

Charles wasted no time and quickly turned his attention to Hollstadd. With a war cry Charles rushed the doctor, but Hollstadd was ready for him. He sidestepped a wild swing, grabbing the wire helmet on Charles’ head as he passed. He yanked Charles backward and threw him onto his back, eliciting another scream of pain from the boy. He briefly wondered where the orderlies were before he felt a terrible pain in his leg. Charles had stabbed him in the calf, twisting the scalpel around in the muscle. The agony brought Hollstadd to his knees and Charles stabbed him once again, this time in the abdomen. Hollstadd roared with pain and hit the child in the face with all his might, knocking him back to the ground. This time the doctor pounced on Charles, realizing that he was fighting for his life. He knocked the scalpel from Charles’ hand and put his own hands around the boys throat. He squeezed and leaned his entire body into it, determined to be the victor. Charles began thrashing about beneath him, but before long his wild movements slowed and his hits began to weaken.

Suddenly Hollstadd heard something prehistoric. A screech from some sort of ancient beast. Before he could turn around he has hit in the head and knocked off of Charles and onto his back. He was woozy, but he could see a large shape approaching him. When his eyes regained focus he saw something that chilled him to his very core.

Coming toward him was… a monster. It stood some seven feet tall, and its skin was a sickly green. Though the rest of its body was long and thin, it had a protruding stomach, seeming to slosh with its distending contents. Its many eyes were jet black, and it seemed to have some vestigial bat-like wings lining its back. As the creatures canine-esque legs carried it forward Hollstadd scrambled backward. The monster was faster though.

It rushed Hollstadd and picked him up by the throat, its oversized hands engulfing his neck completely. Hollstadd tried to fight back, but the creature was too strong for him. He felt a sharp pain in his back as he began to black out, Charles had found the scalpel again. He felt that pain over and over again until he died, bleeding like a stuck pig.

Charles was found some time later, asleep and covered in blood. The orderlies that had been posted outside were simply gone, and never seen again. Eventually Charles was deemed to be too dangerous to be left alive, and was sent to the chair. But that is another story, for another day.