A Time of Ghouls & Fairies

It was the time of war. 

Tiselda shoved her sword through another ghoula's heart. 

"Mom!" the ghoula screamed as she died.

Tiselda screeched in frustration. It was the time of war. But according to who? The grievances between ghouls and fairies had gone back so far that no one now living knew why they were fighting. Or who had started the fighting. Or what a victory for either side would even mean. 

She danced into a pirouette and sliced the arm from a ghoul, a very thin arm, which spurted a torrent of black blood. The ghoul tried to grab at her with his other arm, but his reach was clumsy and she flew out of his way. But he kicked her friend, Primitzia, cruelly with his foot and stomped on her before Tiselda could open his throat. 

She knelt by Primitzia and kissed her forehead. Primitzia gurgled blood and Tiselda forced her chin up when she tried to look down at her ruined torso. 

Tiselda saw another ghoula making her way toward her and left Primitzia's side to deal with the situation. By the time that was over, Primitzia was dead. 

"I've had enough!" she shouted. "Just because it's November doesn't mean we have to do this."

"It's the terms," said some fairy she didn't know, flying by her. "December is almost here. We can get to the time of peace if we just push through this week." He flew forward with a "huzzah". What a hero, Tiselda thought.

"I don't want to push," she said, and she flew off back to Mt. Olipilitana. It was full of fucked up fairies, but there was nothing to be done. The ghouls coated their bodies in a poison that fairies could not cure with any magic they possessed. So any fairy touched by a ghoul was on the road to death. All the fairies could do was create a protective bubble around them (to keep themselves ghoul-poison-free) and ease their passing with a magical potion that would simulate the feeling of pleasure (also used in the bedroom). 

Tiselda had had her fill of pleasure and pain. War and peace. Alternating months between war and peace, pleasure and pain. What was the point of it all? When would the cycle end?

She remembered a conversation she had had with Primitzia the day before. Primitzia had told her she was pregnant, that her fiance was so fertile that even his condoms could not prevent it. That her father, Reyalito, had disowned her for getting pregnant before her wedding day. She had cried so hard and so suddenly that Tiselda had accidentally mistaken it for laughter. Now she was gone and her baby was too. 

She raged around the mountain. She would interview the dying fairies and ask them for any advice, or why they were fighting. Many of them sobbed and asked for their siblings or a friend. One told her that he wanted his stuffed bear, and Tiselda slid it through the protective bubble so he could hold it. He cried joyful tears as he hit the button that shot a few milligrams of magical potion into his IV. 

She began running furiously around the mountain, more in anxiety than rage. She attended to as many fairies as she could, outperforming even their own family members in how much she cared for them. Then one day a fairy asked for a hug. He told her his name was Farithio and that his father had never hugged him his entire life. Not because he didn't love him, but because he was out of touch with his own emotions (or was Farithio just making excuses?). His mother had died giving birth to him, so he had only known times of war. In times of peace he would find the dirtiest, oldest hovel of the mountain to wait until the next month would arrive. He felt like he was made only for war. As he talked, he began to choke with tears.

Tiselda, against her better judgment, squeezed through the protective bubble and hugged him. The ghoul poison touched her, and she felt her chest seize up with pain. She saw him smile and thank her. He was not less than aroused, but Tiselda hugged him all the same. He coughed on her and she got some poison on her face too. Her face felt burning hot and frighteningly cold at the same time, but she still hugged him. 

As she slunk to the floor, other fairies took note and slid another bed into the protective bubble and set up an IV for her too, but she pulled the IV from her arm. 

She experienced the pain and held Farithio's hand until he died. She looked around at the other fairies and offered them smiles, and they would wonder at her. Some frowned and told her it was stupid not to be on the IV, that choosing to suffer for no reason was pointless, but Tiselda merely smiled at them and agreed and kept on as she was. She felt her throat constrict as the days went by and she would grab the sides of the bed unable to scream. But she felt that too. She felt the poison do its work, knowing nothing could save her now. 

She knew she could not escape this pain. She knew the fairies could not (or would not) escape this war.

But she had escaped.

The scribe fairy wrote on her tombstone: Here lies Tiselda. She died with a smile for some reason.