The Fairy and the Inventor-Chapter 1

A fairy's greatest possession is her wings.

  "Real life fairies fresh from tha' batch! Get a creature for ye self and admire their beauty!" The slave master shouted to the willing villagers in front of him, all of which whom were the wealthy, most men.

  "Move it!" Snapped one of the slave-drivers as he pushed me up the wooden stage.

  My bare feet nearly missed the steps and stepped on a splinter. I bit my lip, wincing and sat down next to the others. I held my injured foot and looked around at the others. We were all dirty, with dirt and grime pasted on our skin and we all wore the same short black dress that revealed our slender legs. I rubbed my bronze tinted hands, watching as particles of dirt sprinkled on top of my dress. As from most fairies, I had tanned skin instead of ivory colored. My eyes were a dull violet and large, with the traditional long lashes and instead of having a heart shaped face, I had an angular face which differentiated me from other fairies. The fairies taunted me for my human-like face, but I've always ignored it, just keeping whatever I had wanted to say to myself. However, I had the same petite build as the fairies and of course, wings.

  "Step right up folks to buy your own lovely fairy with wings!" The slave master shouted into the crowd once more.

 The crowd roared, holding up wads of thick, green paper.

  "You sir! Which one?" The slave master pointed to a bearded man in front.

  He was fat, but seemed light he could choke the living lights out of you. I didn't trust him and hoped he would not pick me.

 "The one with the short red hair!" The bearded man replied.

   I breathed a sigh of relief. He had picked Firara. I had never liked her because she had always tried to get me in trouble with the slave drivers, but I still felt bad for her. I watched as Firara was yanked up to her feet. She was crying, the acidic tears hissing as it hit the ground. "NO!" She screamed trying to pull back, but was given a hard kick to the back, sending her toppiling to the ground.

  The slave master handed the man the rope that linked Firara by her wrists, as it did for the rest of us. The man soon dragged her away, with us hearing her cries.

  You may be wondering as to how this all works. See, we fairies live deep in the forest so that we may guard nature itself. We rely on the nature for shelter and protection, while nature puts her trust in our hands to keep her safe. However, humans know to use this against us. The humans bring out their firey torches and axes and threaten to chop down our trees and to burn down the forest. Of course, we retaliate, but that often ends badly, burning atleast a piece of the forest, which leads us to be allowed to be taken away to become sold to wealthy villagers who makes us entertain them and do magic. Then, we led onto the barred wagons and our ankles and wrist are bounded together with a charmed rope. The rope is designed to mute our powers until we are sold. We cannot fly for we are tied to the wagon and are only moved around by the slavedrivers. It is a frightening experience, especially when they yanked random fairiers out in the middle of the night. They are returned in the morning, crying and silent. I am lucky that I am too ugly to be played around like that. When we reach a large town, we yanked out from the wagon and are displayed like those white porcelain dolls that those humans play with and are bartered with green paper.

  After that, the future is a mystery for fairies like us.

   "Oy! I want the one with the wild black mane!" A man shouted.

   My heart froze for a moment.

   That was me.

    I felt hands lift me up and push me to the front, where I kneeled in front of the slave master. My fearful eyes stared at the man who had wanted me. He looked young, middle-aged, but still I feared for my life.

   "Do you think I can just have her wings?" He asked.

   The slave master smirked. "Of course. Take ye self a look." I felt the slave master's rough hands rip the back of my dress to the middle of my back. My hands crossed my chest. I could feel my heart beating wildly. He wanted my wings? My wings were my most beloved possession. I wouldn't. I couldn't let them go! They were beautiful.

  "Open 'em!" He snapped.

  Holding back tears, I slowly unraveled my elegant, silky wings. They were a dark blue that faded into a passionate blue, which ended in sweet pink tips. They were curved and swirled and flourished outward to past the slave master. I heard a large gasp from the crowd, then shouts of giving my wings to them for whatever amount of paper they had.

  "QUIET! I will only sell these wings to this here gentleman." The slave master cut in and gestured to the man.

  "Did ye want 'em?" He asked.

  The man smiled deviously, "They are perfect my fine sir." He replied.

  A high-pitched wail erupted from my throat as I shoved the slave masters greedy hands away from my precious wings.

  "Hold 'er down!" He shouted to his men.

   I felt strong hands push me down, pressing my face against the splintered wood. I felt his hands on my wings.

 "No! Please don't---AAHHH!" I screamed as he started tearing my wings off.

   Pain coursed through my body. I thrashed, my tears blurred my vision, making everything around me seem oblivious.

  Riiiiip...Riiii...p

   I could hear my wings being torn off my back. It sounded as if they were tearing paper off from a sketchbook. Blood dribbled down my pain racked back like a river. I heard the popped and snap of my wings as they came off.

  By then I was blind.

 The tears would not stop. My precious. Oh my precious treasure was taken away from me! The crowd cheered as the slave master held my shimmering wings up and passed them to the man, who stroked them with great pride. My heart sank and withered. I wanted to claw the giddy smiles off of their horrible faces.

 The slave master grabbed my bony wrist and yanked me up from my fetal position. I whimpered. It hurt to sit up. My back felt raw. The rustic smell of blood drifted into my nose.

 "Well, time to dispose of ye eh?" He smirked and flipped out his revolver.

  I sniffed and sobbed once again. I felt weak. I didn't care if he killed me now. I was done and over. I was tired and just wanted to sleep. The cool barrel of his gun was pressed to the side of my head. I closed my eyes and listened to the cheering of the crowd. In a few seconds it would all be over. I could forget about this. I would finally be free.

  "Wait! Do not shoot!" A man's voice interjected.