The boy had moved around his entire life. When he was younger, that man often came home reeking of smoke, his face red and swollen from one too many, hounding the boy’s mom for money. He pleaded, cajoled, and promised he would start anew. He never did, of course. Before long, the boy would see his mom putting things in weird places: beneath the shabby sofa, inside broken vases, under stacked bowls, like she was playing hide and seek with valuables. The man then started to look to the boy for clues. He was just trying to scrounge up enough to buy “a creature” to cure his mom’s cancer, he said, and, not understanding the situation, the boy would point. He later discovered that that man had gambled away nearly all the family’s inheritance. When dinner conversations grew louder and plates began to shatter, his mom packed, swiftly, in secret, and took the boy with her. From then on, they were constantly on the move in order to accommodate the mom’s job as a history teacher. The boy soon grew numb from having no one other than his mom, and his eyes dried up like a reservoir in a drought.

One spring, when she dropped him off at the playground of yet another new school, she said,

 “This will be the last time. I’ve paid off the debt.” She smoothed her calloused hands over his soft hair. “We’ll finally have a fresh start.”

A fresh start, the boy repeated to himself as he was ushered in through the school doors. 

Another first day done. He lifted his bottom onto the cold metal of the bench. His shoes, which didn’t reach the ground, were dripping wet from the rain, which had thankfully stopped now. His inner shirt was soaked, too. He wondered how long he would be waiting this time, even though his mom always left for work early to come back as early as she could. 

As he had done with every playground before, he rated this one. It was certainly very disappointing. Weathered by kicks and scratches, the paint on the house-part-of-the-slide was chipped in many places, and the scrolls engraved in it were broken. One point off. He leaned back to look at the roof. The house pulled its roof over like a low-hanging hat. The wood-coloured paint had flaked off with time, and the off-white plastic underneath showed through. Another point off. From the house, the slide curled toward the ground, and its surface was scratched up by the many backpocket buttons that had slid down it. Another. The boy then walked around. The rest of it was in the same state. When he pushed against the red roundabout, for example, it jammed because of the branches that had collected beneath its plate. The swings had broken chains. The seesaw was rusted over and impossible to lift. Another point off, and another. So many that he lost track. Fortunately, the climbing structure was functioning, though a few rocks had been removed. The boy kicked the protruding pebbles around the playground’s perimeter as he walked, and was puzzled at why the designer had chosen redwood chips to mulch the soil. 

He was back at the slide again. Leaning toward the house was an old willow whose branches, stupidly, blocked the house’s “window”. He forced himself to try the slide, since, if his mom was right, this playground would be his only entertainment for the next however many years. 

Just then, a gentle breeze parted the willow branches. 

Amid the swaying, a pair of eyes sparkled like bright stars in the night.

Her eyelashes a second pair of willow branches. 

Her skin glowed like the snow on his windowsill seven months ago, and underneath that, a flush of warmth like from a fireplace.

Her nose had a unique curve to it, like the hills they’d driven past a week ago. 

Of all her features, he Loved it the most because he Loved slides.

Time paused, and his eyes widened. First Love at first sight.

The white cap of the toy house looked like a veil. The slide became stairs. The swings wavered in the wind and made clattering sounds as if clapping. The seesaw also clapped. The roundabout spun slowly like a ballerina, and the wall was bejeweled with scattered pearls. 

Another, stronger gust threw the willow blinds open.

The girl’s golden hair caught the orange of the falling sun. 

With her long, branch-like fingers, she pulled her hair over pointed ears. 

With her other hand, she pressed down on her sea-blue dress. 

The girl noticed the boy. She smiled, her pink lips stretching gently at both ends, two dimples forming on her cheeks. 

The sun spread golden petals on the ground and danced between the willow fronds. 

The boy was transfixed. 

A shining blue Angel in the coming darkness.

He wanted to marry her.

Later, however, he would regret their Encounter till his last breath. It would turn out to be the worst accident of his entire life.

The next time they met was in school, when a group of guys were making fun of her ear. One yanked her hair back to expose the sharp ends.

“What a weirdo,” he said. “Are you a goblin from the movies?” They all laughed. The girl tried to pull her hair loose with both hands. Her eyes and cheeks burned with anger and shame.

“Don’t say that,” chimed another. “She’s obviously some sort of underworld creature from Greek mythology.” Irksome laughter filled the room.

“Hahaha. No, she’s a—”

“A Faerie!” The boy remembered his favorite character from one of the tales his mom read to him. The girl’s eyes widened and focused on him. He tried to hide the upward curve to his mouth, and he stared at the boys with his scariest eyes. 

“Let her go!” shouted the boy, charging toward them, tackling the one holding the girl’s hair. The guys, of course, landed punches and kicks on the boy, and the boy turned his face to the ground.

After a while, the group grew tired and left to go outside. The boy lay still on his front, too sore to move. Even the slightest movement hurt. The girl ran over to him and laid her hands on his back. Droplets formed on the back of his neck. 

“My name is Gaia,” the girl said in a soft voice, “what’s your name?” 

“Enos.” He lifted his head and mustered a smile. It wasn’t a good smile, but Gaia hugged him tight. Dusk shone through the clouds and into the open window onto the two of them like a spotlight.

Enos and Gaia were inseparable. They played in the playground, and Enos often cared for Gaia, staying beneath her when she went up the climbing wall to catch her if she fell. At the same time, Gaia brought much to Enos. When they grew tired of the playground, she led him through the nearby forest, trekking along a winding path of pebbles and twigs. After the forest came a meadow, where they both sank into the cool, soft grass.

Enos lifted his head. Above him, clouds drifted like glowing ships across the navy sea. In the distance stood tall mountains, their snowy, rugged peaks softened by the amber of the setting sun. The lake echoed this celestial canvas, its surface a shimmering tapestry of gold and crimson, kissed by the last light of day. Towering, majestic trees encircled the lake, their silhouettes etched in deep blues and purples, and a gentle breeze rustled their leaves, creating a soothing whisper that mingled with the distant calls of evening birds. As twilight deepened, the mountains cast long shadows, the lake’s sparkle dimmed, and the trees became dark, elegant sentinels, guarding the quiet beauty of the approaching night. The air smelled of chrysanthemums.

Wow. Enos said to himself. Wow.

Gaia saw the boy’s mouth widen and chuckled. 

Stars emerged, reminding Enos of Gaia’s eyes.

Gaia made Enos a fishing rod with a willow branch and taught him how to fish. Look at the bait. Be patient. Reel smoothly! After a few lessons, he challenged her to see who could catch the most fish. Whenever Enos gazed over at Gaia, he always found her with a fish that she then carefully slid back into the lake. During every one of these competitions, Gaia would play tricks to lose, whether it was at times having no lure on the hook or not having a hook at all. Enos never thought he would ever come close to her fishing skills, but her broad smile and glistening eyes when he caught the first fish of the day made every loss more delightful than any win could.

The boy had started a fresh life. He now had a friend. An only friend. A very good friend.

After the last year of university, the boy and the girl remained together. They bought a van and ventured onto the untouched sprawling plains, where fields of gold painted the landscape with vibrant hues; to the serene shores, where the shimmering water mirrored the cerulean sky; and to the lush, emerald forests, where branches intertwined as old friends. They spent much of their time on the road, taking in the scenery as if glimpsing some faraway land through a moving frame—

rolling hills dotted with red wildflowers 

vibrant ponds painting their own canvases 

and the quiet beauty of the mist rolling from the valleys at dawn. 

Enos did most of the driving, and from time to time, he glanced over at sleeping Gaia, her golden hair draped around her flushed cheeks, her pink, half-open lips, her nose shaped like a hill. After many, many miles like this, the two of them returned to the lake where Gaia had first taught him to fish and, together, they built a cabin at the foot of the mountains. 

“One can never grow old from such a scene,” Enos said one day, sitting on the wooden chair facing the lake. It sparkled at him like a sapphire. Behind him, the log cabin merged into its surroundings. He turned and smiled at Gaia, who smiled back with that broad, pink-lipped smile he knew so well, her eyes like stars. Enos’ heart caught in his chest, as it always did at the sight of her. “I’ll marry you someday, Gaia.”

Gaia smiled, “You wouldn’t care if I am…”

Enos laughed at the thought, though he noticed Gaia’s eyes were firm. He would never forget what she said next, though the chirping of birds and the wind through the willows were all that was in his ears. When she spoke, fish sprang into the air like dancers as murmurations swirled in the sky.

“Gaia, that only makes me love you more,” Enos said.

Feuuhh-Reeeee. Fearie. It’s what those boys had called her in the playground all those years ago. She’s joking? Whatever. Doesn’t change my love for her. Won’t change our future.

A few weeks later, Enos invited his mom up to the cabin. The oncologist had recommended that his mom do all she wished to do while she still had the time.

Enos worked harder than ever at Carbo, a bio-medical company that aimed to learn from species lost and new. A creature to cure his mom’s cancer was the only hope that specific person didn’t take away from him. Carbo sought to be the world leader in scientific breakthroughs. Day in and day out, Enos sorted data about species traits. He desperately hoped as his mother’s clock ticked. Gaia often brought herbal medicines to Enos as his face grew paler each day, and still, he would come home in the morning. 

After seven days, Enos worked toward the end of the pile that night and saw no trace of hope. The ability to transform bodily state. Selective invisibility. Bioluminescent veins. Backwards joints. Things that used to make Enos wow became a knife that popped the finite number of balloons on the wall. Enos picked up the last file on the last shelf. He prayed, and he saw a huge oily creature on the shelf. He continued with the description on the screen.

1. Wings made of stretched, translucent skin that shimmer in black ink.

He sorted the file above, and his body melted against the wall. As his vision blurred, he saw a file lying on the ground beside the records room. The records room is inaccessible except to the high administration. He crotched over and opened the file.

A woman. Gaia? The person looked very similar to Gaia, though with a closer look, she looked pale with rather flat facial features. 

“Carbo had discovered the presence of Faeries on the planet,” the video started to play. It was his manager. 

1. Wings that could inspire new aerial vehicle designs

2. Skin that could lead to the invention of new textiles or synthetic healing gels

3. Eyes that could enhance nighttime vision

5. Blood that could unlock the cures for cancers

“If you see any sign of faeries, please report. Your action will do Great for Humanity,” the manager of Carbo ended his presentation.

Gum, plastic bags, and Coke cans littered the sidewalks sheltered by high heaps of snow. Shops flaunted their most attractive goods: heavy jackets, leather bags, Extremely Soft fur blankets, intricate watches, some of them encrusted. Ribbons of grill smoke and the aroma of hot food swirled from carts to the city’s nostrils. Enos walked along the sidewalk. He would have bought two jackets and two burritos. But he stared at the pavement before. The snow stung his cheeks red. Underneath the flush was a bruising paleness of uncertainty and conflict.

Enos stopped in front of their front door. Gaia came to open it as though seeing his presence through the fireflies in the lavender by the door. They headed straight to the second floor, where his mom was having her evening treatment.. A machine shot radiation onto her uneven breasts. The skin looked like orange peel. Her eyes were closed, but he could see she was exhausted. Wrinkles carved harshly across her forehead and down her neck. Weird spots of discoloration spread across her arms.

Enos came to her and clasped her cold hands with his warm ones.

His eyes grew determined. His face grew rigid.

Gaia seemed to read his mind.

Her eyelids weighed heavier.

Her eyes were nonetheless gentle.

Six words came through the air.

If you want, bring me there.

“Thank you, Mr. Enos (Darke or Foggs). Thank you.” The manager of Carbo clasped Enos’s cold hands with his sweaty ones. “You have made a great contribution to humanity.”

“And you’ll only draw some of her blood for the drug?” Enos asked. 

“Yes, yes, we’ll only draw some blood.”

“Only some.” Enos was in the manager’s ears.

Enos would soon regret his decision. He failed to notice the manager’s smirk.

Enos and Gaia. 

One big hug. 

Two kisses on her cheeks. 

Two I love you. 

One Protect me, will you?

Gaia was then wheeled into an operating room. There, she was strapped to the bed. A translucent plastic mask covered her mouth and nose. On the other side of the glass, Enos gnawed at his bottom lip.

Gaia leaned her head toward the window. Through her mask, she mustered a smile. A less pink, less broad smile.

Gaia’s starry eyes dimmed. Her face dulled. She closed her eyes.

Potion injected.

Wings appeared.

Surgery knives ready.

Enos saw the knives slice deep into Gaia’s flesh. 

What’s going on? Stop! Murderer!! These words rang in Enos’s ears. Now. Forever. He dashed toward the manager, but the security blocked him.

With each cut, the clouds poured harder somewhere.

With each gush of blood, the lakes dried up elsewhere.

With each piece of skin placed onto the silver tray, fertile lands disappeared.

With each bone removed, hills and mountains leveled.

With each eye scooped out, the sky lost its stars.

Carbo learned through exploitation, through murder. And I was part of that. Exploitation. Murder.

Enos sat on the wooden chair facing the lake, though the lake had lost more than three-fourths of its original capacity, exposing the mud and the roots of water lilies and lotuses that dried in the flaring sun. The forest on the other side had grown sparse, dull, and lifeless. The mountain collapsed inward, leaving an exterior of barrenness where rocks and dirt occupied its peak. At night, the sky was without stars as though covered by a swarming blanket of haze. The lake, thus, was dark, a pile of black goo. Gone was the fragrance of chrysanthemum and lavender. 

Enos’ hair had greyed at the sides, though his skin was still unwrinkled. He rubbed his swollen eyes. 

Behind him, his mother slept soundly on the brown bed on the second floor, cured of breast cancer, but now had lung disease.

Enos regretted. A murder for nothing. He chuckled coldly. 

Enos regretted their Encounter till his last breath. 

Him and Gaia.

Knowing her was the worst accident of his life.