Faeries Anonymous - 1. Faeries Anonymous

“Hi. My name is Jonquil—but you can call me Jon—and I am a faery.”

Choruses of “Hi, Jon” echoed through the small room. I was clearly in the wrong place. The room contained about fifteen people sitting on folding chairs arranged in a circle. The heady aroma of freshly-brewed coffee momentarily distracted me from the spectacle I was witnessing.

Jonquil clearly lived up to his name. His hair was bright yellow and his skin was green. He wore a yellow shirt and green jeans, completing the whole flower theme. The rest of the room’s occupants were similarly bizarre. The entire rainbow was represented in a multi-colored clash of brightly-dyed hair and skin tones not found in nature. Some of the people sported wings which fluttered rather convincingly, and antennae that radiated toward me.

This was not Narcotics Anonymous. For a moment I thought I was having a bad trip, then I remembered that I hadn’t gotten high in months. Maybe that didn’t matter, and I was doomed to have flashbacks the rest of my life. I shuddered at the thought.

I stood in the doorway, gaping at the spectacle for a minute before moving to leave. As I turned, I hit the door with my shoulder, sending it into the wall with a loud bang. The room’s occupants all turned to look at me simultaneously, staring at me as I had them. I flushed bright red. So much for a clandestine exit.

“Sorry,” I said. “Wrong room.” I moved to leave, but stopped when I heard a loud voice.

“Wait!” A man with long, white hair and pointed ears strode toward me. He was a bit taller than me and lean and wiry. His fine facial features would make any male model jealous. He moved fluidly, with grace and bearing, seeming to float over the ground. He was stunning.

He stopped in front of me and held out his slender hand. “I’m Garin.” He grimaced. “I know… I know… my parents had a sense of humor when they named me. There aren’t many elves named after dwarfs.”

I raised an eyebrow and shook his hand tentatively. I had no idea what he meant. “Um… I’m Alvin.”

Garin grinned and put his arm around my shoulders, gently guiding me into the room before letting go. “Let me introduce you to the crew. It’s been a while since we’ve had a new member, and we rarely see elves.”

I started to protest, but Garin was already halfway across the room. I found his comment about elves as strange as their costumes; I figured elves would be popular due to The Lord of the Rings. While I wasn’t that big a fan of fantasy movies, I would welcome Legolas into my bed any day of the week. The ‘crew’ continued staring at me, moving their heads as one to follow me as I approached their circle. They reminded me of the videos people liked to post online of kittens watching someone wave a feathered stick over their heads.

Garin grabbed a chair and set it next to his. “Have a seat.”

I remained standing and shifted my feet. “Uh, sorry guys, but I have the wrong room. I’m here for NA, not a costume party or whatever this is.”

My words produced a mixture of gasps, indignant looks, scowls, and giggles. A man with long rabbit ears, wearing a cream-colored fur outfit, wrinkled his nose and looked at me with disgust. “We’re not wearing costumes, elf.”

I glanced at Garin, but everyone continued to stare at me. He was looking at me, so I was puzzled as to why he called me elf.

A man with brown hair with white speckles, large doe-like ears sitting behind two nubs of horn, and a lower body that looked like a goat—complete with fur and cloven hooves—looked me in the eye and smiled. The look seemed almost predatory and made me immediately ill at ease. “Ignore him. You’re very welcome here.”

“Yeah…uh…thanks. But really guys, I’m not into this scene. I need to go to NA or my probation officer will violate me.”

They all giggled at my unfortunate choice of words. The goat guy leered and looked me up and down. “I’ll happily violate—”

“Shut up, Mr. Tumnus!” said a grayish-brown fellow with lizard-like skin. His tail twitched in annoyance. I was impressed at the dedication of these people to their fandom.

The goat-man scowled. “My name is George!”

“Settle down, everyone. I think it’s clear that our new friend doesn’t know about us,” said Garin.

“Look guys, I appreciate your enthusiasm for…this”—I waved my hand toward the circle of costumed members—“but I really need to get to my NA meeting.”

Garin rose and pulled out his wallet. He withdrew a business card and handed it to me. “NA is two doors down. Please feel free to contact me if you have any questions. We meet here every other Wednesday night.”

As I took the card, our fingers brushed, sending a shiver coursing throughout my body. His silver eyes showed understanding and sympathy. I found it hard to look away. The man put Legolas to shame. I nodded. “Thanks.”

I shuddered as I walked down the hall and found a door labelled NA. The inhabitants of this room were people I understood. I glanced at the card Garin had handed me before I stuffed it into my pocket. It read: Faeries Anonymous—A support group for changelings. What the hell?

*****

I attended NA meetings frequently over the next couple of weeks. I was mandated to attend once a week as a condition of my parole, but I attended four meetings my first week and was walking into the building to attend my third meeting of the following week. I slowed my steps as I rounded the corner and entered the hallway containing the rooms for the strange group I had met two weeks ago and the more familiar NA meeting room.

The man with the goat legs stood outside the door. He smirked as I approached. “Couldn’t stay away, huh?”

I shook my head. “I’m here for the NA meeting.”

His eyes flicked down, then slowly back up to meet my own. I shifted uncomfortably. I felt naked under his scrutiny.

“Pity.” He leaned closer as if sniffing me. He was certainly playing his animal role to the hilt. “I’ve always had a thing for elves.”

I raised an eyebrow. That was the second time someone had referred to me as an elf. While my body type was long and lean—like Garin, their ‘elven’ leader—I was certainly not an elf. My expression must have conveyed my disbelief.

“You really don’t know, huh? Think we’re all playing some stupid game?” He stamped a hoof and shook his stub of a tail. He flashed a cocky grin. “It’s not, you know,” he whispered.

That was the second time I’d heard that, too. “Yeah. Um, I don’t want to be late. Have a good meeting,” I said.

“George, we’re ready to start. Are you coming?” Garin appeared in the doorway. His face lit up with a huge smile when he saw me.

“Not yet.” George leered at me.

Garin rolled his eyes and snorted in disgust. “Get inside and stop scaring the new members.” He held out his hand. “It’s good to see you again. I was hoping you’d show up tonight.”

Garin’s grip was firm and warm as he shook my hand. I didn’t want to let go. He was even more beautiful than I remembered.

“Actually, I’m here for the NA meeting down the hall. Sorry, but I’ve never been much into the whole sword and sorcery thing.” The flash of disappointment that crossed his features made me want to stay, despite the weirdness, just to see him happy again. “Well, except for the Lord of the Rings, but that’s mainly because of Legolas,” I continued.

“So you’re into elves, huh?” His mouth upturned into an amused smile.

My face flushed red. “Well… uh… when they’re hot, I suppose… yeah.”

He laughed and winked. “Well, that’s a step in the right direction.”

I smiled. “I gotta go. I really need this meeting. It’s been a rough day.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “You know, I understand more than you realize. You may start to see things you won’t understand and may even scare you. Call me anytime, and I’ll see if I can help. Do you still have my card?”

I nodded. I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away. The pleased look on his face made me happy I’d kept it. “Thanks.” I gave him a small wave before heading down the hall.

The meeting hadn’t started yet, but the room was fairly full so I slunk into a seat in the back row. The guy next to me shot me a knowing look. “Go to the wrong room?”

“Yeah.” It was easier than trying to explain.

“I did the same thing my first time here. They need better signs.”

I laughed. “Yeah, they do. Strange group, huh?”

He frowned. “I thought they were very nice. A great group of guys.”

“Well, yeah. They are very nice. What they do is so weird, though. I could never do it.”

His frown intensified into a scowl. “Don’t condemn what you don’t understand.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not condemning them!”

“My brother’s gay. He could have used a group like that when he was coming out. I don’t think I can sit next to a homophobe.” He rose to change seats, and I stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“I’m not a homophobe. I’m gay myself. I just think their costumes are weird.”

He sat back down. “Costumes? I don’t think I’ve ever seen them in costume.”

“Huh. Well maybe they had a party or a theme meeting or something. They were all dressed up like elves and stuff when I saw them.”

He looked at me like he was questioning my sanity. Or my sobriety.

“You said they’re a support group? I thought they were a reenactment group. You know, like those people that get really into games.”

“Faeries Anonymous. I don’t care for the name, but I think it’s great to have a gay support group.”

“Um, yeah,” I said, wondering if we were talking about the same people. I turned to face the front of the room when the leader started speaking. George’s words echoed through my mind: It’s not a game. If it wasn’t a game, that meant it was real. But it couldn’t be. Could it?

I was too distracted to pay much attention during the meeting or even contribute. I spoke with my sponsor briefly after the meeting and ended up walking out with the guy I sat next to. He held out his hand.

“I never introduced myself. Name’s Steve.”

I shook his hand. “Alvin.”

The FA meeting must have finished about the same time as ours, because I saw goat legs, wings, and a long, gray tail mingled with the jeans and khakis of the NA participants. George was flirting with the rabbit-eared fellow and shot me teasing looks when he noticed me. I nudged Steve with my elbow and gestured toward the goat-man.

“Amazing how realistic it is, huh?”

Steve looked at me blankly. “What do you mean?”

“His costume. The goat legs look like they’re real.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“The guy in the goat costume. Talking to the guy with the rabbit ears. Hi, George!” I yelled.

George turned and looked at me like he wanted to devour me. I instantly regretted my decision, since I didn’t want to encourage him.

“Him.”

Steve took my arm and led me to the side of the hallway, letting others pass. “You didn’t participate tonight. Is everything OK?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“Alvin, those guys are wearing jeans and sweaters. I don’t see goat legs or rabbit ears. I think you should talk to your sponsor. One of the things they stress in these meetings is honesty. If you’re using, you’re not doing yourself or us any good.”

“I’m not using,” I said.

The look on Steve’s face told me he didn’t believe me. We were standing one door down from the FA meeting room, and Garin exited the room. His silver eyes met mine, and I remembered his words about seeing things I wouldn’t understand. I shook my head. It couldn’t be real. Maybe I was suffering side effects from long-term drug abuse. I hadn’t used in months. I felt like Garin’s gaze penetrated right to my soul. I tore my eyes away and ran down the hall and into the parking lot. I had lost my license due to my drug use, so I ran all the way to my apartment and collapsed on my couch.

I tried to distract myself by watching some action flicks and eating junk food, but it didn’t work. I went to bed to try and sleep, but when I finally did, my dreams were filled with silver eyes, goat legs, and butterfly wings. I didn’t know what to think of the fact that Steve didn’t see the same things I did. I felt like I was losing my grip on reality. I wanted to get high. The urge was so strong, that I found myself getting dressed and heading for the door.

I stopped before I exited my small apartment. I’d lost so much in my life due to drugs. My friends and family, my job, my driver’s license, and Bill. After he left me, I completely broke down. I’d even lost my house and ended up on the streets for a couple of months. That was when I reached my lowest point and decided to end it. My attempt to overdose failed however, and I ended up in the hospital, then rehab, and now in my crappy apartment, trying to make ends meet on minimum wage.

I’d been arrested for drug possession and placed on probation, with weekly drug tests and NA meetings mandated. Things were going just fine until I met the FA crew. I clenched my jaw and closed the door. I wasn’t going to let those freaks undo all the progress I’d made. I dug out my cell phone and swiped to my sponsor’s phone number. She had told me I could call her any time, day or night.

I decided to be honest and told her everything that had happened since I met George and Garin two weeks ago. She expressed concern at my symptoms and told me I needed to see a doctor. She thought I was using, just like Steve did. I was frustrated, even though I completely understood why they felt that way.

I headed to the ER and waited hours before a nurse brought me into a curtained area where I described my symptoms. She nodded and patted my hand. “You sound like a perfect candidate for Dr. Schmetterling,” she said, then closed the curtain after she walked out of the small area.

Great. Who the heck was Dr. Schmetterling? I expected a stodgy, old German guy who would immediately commit me to the psych ward when he heard my symptoms. I was debating getting up and leaving when the curtains opened, admitting who I assumed was the doctor, since he wore a long, white coat and had a stethoscope around his neck.

I stared at him as he approached me. Large, multi-colored, iridescent wings fluttered behind him, and he sported two antennae that sprouted from his rainbow-hued hair. “You’re beautiful,” I murmured.

His golden eyes twinkled with amusement. “Thanks. In the future you might want to go to the clinic on Fiftieth and Main. They provide excellent service and are familiar with many different races, including elves.”

I raised an eyebrow. Elves. Again. “My sponsor told me to come here. Do you think the hallucinations are because of all the drugs I did? I haven’t used in months.”

“Hallucinations? What are you seeing?”

I looked him up and down, then stared at his back. “Uh, people with animal fur, hooves, horns, and… wings.”

He fluttered his wings. “Like these?”

Now I knew I was losing my mind. A group of people meeting in costume and calling themselves ‘faeries’ was one thing, an emergency room doctor in such a serious setting was another. A thought slammed into me like a freight train. If I was hallucinating, how could he flutter his wings deliberately? How did he even know what I was seeing? If I wasn’t seeing things then that meant….

“Yeah, um, like those.” Maybe I had entered the Twilight Zone. “Uh, how do you know what I’m seeing?”

Dr. Schmetterling looked at me sympathetically. “Because you’re like me. We’re both changelings. When did you start seeing these things?”

We’re both what? “A couple of weeks ago.”

“And you feel like you’re losing your mind?”

I nodded.

“Well, you’re not.” He fished in his pocket and held out a business card. “I have a friend you should talk to. You two have something in common.”

Long, white hair and silver eyes flashed into my mind, and I said half-jokingly, “Let me guess; we’re both elves?”

He raised an eyebrow. “So you’ve met Garin?”

My eyes widened, and I sat up in shock. I hadn’t expected to be right. “His group meets a couple of doors down from where I go for NA. Everyone was wearing costumes, at least I thought they were, until I talked to Steve and he didn’t see them, and then I thought maybe I was the only one who saw them, uh, sees them, and now you,” I rambled.

Dr. Schmetterling patted my shoulder. His touch was feather-light. “I highly recommend talking to Garin. He’s a great guy and very good with newly-manifesting changelings.”

“You keep saying ‘changelings’. I don’t understand. What the hell is a changeling?” Then I remembered the description on the card Garin gave me: a support group for changelings. What the fuck was a changeling? And what the hell was I? An elf? Maybe I needed to get a job at the Keebler factory.

“Garin will explain.”

“I’m so confused. What am I seeing? Why do you look like a butterfly?”

Dr. Schmetterling sighed. “OK, I’ll explain a little, although Garin is much better at this. Changelings are faeries that are left behind when human babies are stolen and taken into the land of Faery.”

“Faeries?” Is this guy for real? “I thought they were made up by Disney so they can make a shitload of money off movies.”

Dr. Schmetterling laughed. “Oh, we’re very real. Seriously. Call Garin. He’s a pro at answering these types of questions.”

“Yeah, OK. I’ll call him.” I paused, looking into his golden eyes. “So this isn’t some elaborate hallucination? What I’m seeing is actually real? How do I know I’m not dreaming or stuck in the Matrix or something?”

The doctor laughed. “I suppose you have to take my word for it.”

I frowned. Great. So the only evidence I wasn’t losing my mind was the word of a human butterfly.

“I know this isn’t easy, which is why we have groups such as FA. Garin is a good friend and a great guy. Trust what he says; he knows what he’s doing.”

I nodded. “I came here because my sponsor thinks I’m using. Can I get a drug test so my parole officer knows I’m clean?”

“Sure thing. I’ll do a report indicating that you are lucid and in good health and will attach a copy of the tox screen.”

“Thanks.” I held out my hand. “I’m still skeptical, but you have helped. I don’t feel quite as crazy as I did when I came in.”

Dr. Schmetterling smiled. “Good. And make sure you call Garin. I guarantee it’ll help.”

I nodded. “I will.”

*****

Garin agreed to meet me at a coffee shop around the corner from my apartment. He was sitting in a booth next to the front window and waved when I walked by. I ordered a black coffee and slid into the chair opposite him. My heart raced and I wondered if I should have gotten decaf. I wasn’t sure if my physical response was due to the anxiety of the meeting or seeing the beautiful elf sitting across from me. I was mildly disturbed that I thought of him as an elf instead of human but pushed the feeling aside.

“Thanks for meeting me,” I said.

“Anytime. I’m glad you called.”

“Dr. Schmetterling talked very highly of you.”

“Is that why you called me?” The disappointment in his voice was subtle, but there.

“Kind of. I thought I was hallucinating as a side effect of using drugs for so long. I went to the ER because my sponsor told me to. I thought I was losing my mind.” I exhaled sharply. “Dr. Schmetterling told me I wasn’t crazy but starting to manifest as a changeling. I’m so confused. What the hell is a changeling and why do I keep seeing all this crazy stuff? He said you would have answers. What the fuck is going on?”

“You’re about twenty-five, right?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Most changelings start to come into their magic about that age.”

“Magic? Will you stop talking in riddles and just tell me what’s happening to me?” This keeps getting better and better.

“Some human babies are born with magic and are highly prized by faeries. They’re seen as status symbols and pets and if discovered are stolen from their homes and brought to Faery. To prevent the human parents from becoming suspicious, a faery baby of equivalent age is left in its place. Those babies are called changelings and are usually faeries deemed defective in some way. Gerhardt—Dr. Schmetterling—is a butterfly variant of a pixie. They usually have green eyes, but his are golden. Faeries can be pretty superficial sometimes.”

“So his parents dumped him because of his eye color?” I’d heard some pretty stupid things before, but this was straining the limit.

“Yeah. George’s species doesn’t usually have spots, and Jonquil’s parents were daisy variants.”

“But Dr. Schmetterling is so beautiful, how could anyone not want him?”

Garin frowned. A flash of jealousy crossed his features. “Fey are very fickle folk. Sometimes there’s no rhyme or reason to their actions.”

“So what’s wrong with me? Why would my parents want to give me up?” Why was I discussing this so rationally? I think I was beginning to accept that this craziness was actually real.

Garin’s eyes flashed down, then back up to meet my eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with you, in my opinion.” The corner of his mouth lifted into a crooked smile. I wanted to kiss it.

“Thanks, but there has to be something, otherwise why wouldn’t they keep me?”

“Probably your hair. Elves pride themselves on their long, straight hair. Yours is wavy. And most elves don’t or can’t grow facial or chest hair.”

Garin’s hair was long and straight. I wanted to run my fingers through it while I…. “Well, if they’re petty enough to give me up based on my hair, then maybe I lucked out.”

“That’s a good way to look at it.” He squinted his eyes as he scrutinized my face. “And your ears are different sizes.”

I immediately felt my ears, but couldn’t tell if they were different. Garin laughed, and my face flushed bright red.

“Relax. It’s kind of cute.” He winked. “And I have to say the wavy hair and scruff is very exotic… and sexy.”

My heart fluttered like Dr. Schmetterling’s wings. “So what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. I’m not a changeling.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Then what are you doing here?”

“I grew up in Faery. When I learned about changelings, I was appalled. I didn’t understand how someone could throw their child away over such trivial things. Most changelings never find out their true roots and go through life not understanding why they feel different and don’t fit into human society. A few are strong enough to develop magic, even in a world devoid of it, and can see our true natures. Some can even cross back into Faery, although that never ends well.

“A lot of changelings get into serious trouble if they don’t get help understanding their true natures. They end up in prison or the psych ward, or even commit suicide. Many turn to drugs or alcohol to cope with their feelings. I wanted to help, even if it meant exile from my home. I searched for other faeries, eventually starting Faeries Anonymous when I found enough to hold meetings. There’s now a city-wide network to help changelings in need.”

“Wow. That’s incredible.” I wiped a tear from my cheek. “I’ve always felt different, but could never define it. At first I thought it was because I was gay, but I still felt the same, even after I came out and met Bill. I turned to drugs because the only time I felt normal was when I was high.” I looked at the table and fiddled with a napkin. “It cost me everything.”

Garin patted my hand. “You seem to be on the right track now.”

I nodded. “Prison changed me. I never want to go back there again.”

“Understandable.” Garin’s hand remained on my own. The heat felt nice, and I turned my palm upward, squeezing his hand before letting go.

“So is your group for gay faeries?” I asked just as Garin took a sip of his tea. His eyes widened and his face contorted with the effort not to choke on his beverage. He set the cup down and burst into laughter.

“Sorry, but no. Sexuality is different in Faery. Love is love. We don’t have a word for ‘gay’ or ‘straight’. It’s just not a consideration.”

“That’s incredible. Sounds almost utopian.”

He snorted. “Believe me, Faery is hardly Utopia.”

“All the people, uh, fairies I saw in the meeting were guys, so that’s why I was wondering. Also, George—”

“Most changelings are male. George is just, well, George.” Garin snickered.

I smiled. “So what do I need to know about being an elf? I suppose I got lucky in that department. I don’t have to deal with wings or anything. Although I suppose it would be pretty cool to be able to fly.”

“Our magic is diluted here. Most winged faeries can’t fly outside of Faery. As far as being an elf, well, most of us feel a strong connection to nature so tend to work with animals and live in the country.”

I nodded. I loved animals. My dream was to own a place in the country someday. “Does it bother you to live in the city?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. I’d much rather be in the forest, but I’m needed here.”

“That’s really admirable.”

“Thanks. So do you think you’ll come to the next FA meeting?”

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

Garin grinned. “Great! I think you’ll really like the rest of the guys. They’re a great bunch.”

I wondered what I had gotten myself into.

*****

“My name is Alvin, and I am a faery.”

The room’s occupants responded as one, “Hi, Alvin!”

“Why don’t we introduce ourselves to our newest member?” Garin asked. “I’m Garin, and I’m an elf. Although I’m not a changeling, I’m very sympathetic to the issues facing faeries in the human realm.”

He turned and looked at the faery sitting next to him. His pink skin contrasted nicely with his maroon and red wings and black antennae.

“My name is Ruby, and I’m a pixie. I was switched as an infant, so I don’t remember anything about Faery. I’ve always been social, so I partied as a teenager a bit too much, since I became an alcoholic. I cleaned up my act after meeting Garin and finding out I’m a changeling. Now I’m a landscaper—I’ve always been drawn to flowers”—he glanced at Jonquil shyly—“and own my house. I love my life, and I owe it all to this group.”

“Thank you for sharing, Ruby. You’re an inspiration to us all,” Garin stated. Murmurs of agreement flowed throughout the group.

“I’m Norman, and I’m a hobgoblin.” Norman’s skin was gray and reminded me of lizard skin, although he didn’t appear to have scales. He sported a long tail that slowly twitched behind him. “I was three when I was brought to the human realm. I remember Faery in snippets and always longed to go back. I’ve always been drawn to trees and the forest. I’m an arborist for the city and work to preserve the plant life that graces our streets. It’s difficult for them to thrive with all the pollution, but I do my best to ensure the health of all my tree-friends.”

“Well, we’ve already met, but I’m George, and I’m a satyr.” He looked at me with his ever-present leer, then scowled as his introduction produced a series of snickers, eyerolls, and outright laughter.

“Don’t let him fool you,” said Jonquil. “He’s a faun, not a satyr.”

“Close enough,” George muttered. “I was switched as a baby so have never seen Faery either. I manifested early, and ended up in the psych ward for several years as a teenager. Dr. Schmetterling came in one day for a consult and told me about my true nature. He helped me get discharged and apply for college. Now I work for a banking firm and pretty much do what I want.” He emphasized the word ‘do’ and looked me up and down.

My face flushed, and I glanced at Garin. He was doing his best to hold back laughter. I’d have to have a little chat with him later.

The stories were similar for the rest of the group members. I met more pixies, a grundel, and a gnome. I shared my story and didn’t sugarcoat my addiction or the damage it caused. Many of the members had also suffered with addiction and substance abuse while coming to terms with their fey nature. Jonquil spoke last, and I found myself in tears—his story was almost identical to mine. Garin reached over and grasped my hand. I scooted my chair closer to his, and he held my hand for the rest of the meeting. I felt like I had finally come home.

A huge thank you to Aditus for his beta help and Parker and Cia for their editing suggestions.  I had a lot of fun writing this story and would love to hear your thoughts.  I really like these guys and the whole FA concept, so you may see more stories featuring them in the future.