Chapter Eight

Time to meet the Fae 🙂 and hopefully introduce a little humour to the proceedings.


Most people who believe in the Fae often think of them of as beautiful, serene folks who live in little houses, carved into trees amongst the mushrooms and woodland flowers. Distant relatives of the Tooth Fairy and Tinkerbelle. Most people would be wrong.

The small cluster of lights perched on top of the rubbish bins in the alleyway outside the Sophistikittie Club, would have looked like fireflies to the untrained eye. However, fireflies don’t normally use the kind of language that would make an entire Navel fleet blush.
“Where on earth did you get that word from” spluttered Bramble, almost choking on the clean (ish) piece of discarded pizza he’d found “and what does it mean?”
“I heard one of the human menfolk say it several times over when I was hiding in his office yesterday” replied Chamomile sullenly “ I don’t know what it means but it sounds good”
“Fuck, fucking, fucked” mused Thistle “probably not the sort of word we should use in front of Papa Burdock”
“Probably not” agreed Bramble “but it’s the kind of word he’s going to say to us when we tell him we’re no closer to getting the flute back”

The flute was their village’s most treasured possession, passed down from generation to generation for many, many years. It was older than Grandpa Comfrey and all the village elders put together. It had an ancient and powerful magic embedded in it, for that reason it was kept under the in the most secret and secure of places. A month ago, in preparation for the Summer Solstice festivities, Grandpa Comfrey had gone to get the flute from it’s hiding place, only to find it wasn’t there.
At first, he and the elders had tried to keep the disappearance a secret, but somehow word had got out and panic had spread through the village. Envoys sent to other Fae villages bought back word of strange happenings in the human world that could be attributed to the flute.
A gathering of all the Fae in the area was called, heated discussions took place about what should be done. The only thing anyone could agree on was that the flute needed to be retrieved as quickly as possible. The implications of such an artefact being in human hands did not bear thinking about.

Papa Burdock had insisted that a party from his village be sent to the human world in order get the flute back, since it had been in their care.
“Any and all volunteers should take one step forward” he’d told the crowd after making a grave speech about the importance of the task in hand. The crowd had promptly taken one step backwards, leaving Thistle, Chamomile and Bramble standing there, wondering what had just happened.
“It could have been worse I suppose” Papa Burdock had sighed to himself before taking the trio back to his home to brief them.

Now they were sat in silence, on a bin lid, eating three day old pizza and pondering the meanings of human swear words. A passing cat stopped and hissed at the strange light, Thistle, the biggest of the three stood and hissed back at it. The cat gave him a filthy look and wandered on.
Another noise caught Thistle’s attention
“Humans! quick hide”
All three dropped far enough inside the rubbish bin, so they could see but not be seen.
They could see the shadow of a man, standing maybe six feet away from them, he seemed to be waiting for something. The door of the club swung open and a young woman stepped out into the alley. She saw the man but before she could speak, flute music filled the air.

“Oh fuck” chorused three small voices from amongst the rubbish.


8 thoughts on “Chapter Eight

  1. Margaretirene

    Seems like they know something bad is about to happen. Are the deaths what’s happening related to the disappearance if the flute?

    Waiting eagerly!!


  2. Cora

    O, this is fun – more of this, please – but where does the man and the woman on the train enter into this and why did this other guy get pictures of stepping out with his wife?

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