to feed to the…the…you know,” he
said, suddenly at a loss for what to call them.
“Pucks, Dad. Greer calls them pucks.”
“Yeah, pucks. Listen, at the first sign of
trouble you get back here. Leave your car facing the road. Is the
gas tank full? Maybe you should take an extra gun?” he babbled,
uncharacteristically nervous.
“Dad, we’ll be okay. Got plenty of gas, I
always park facing the road, don’t need any more guns, and,
yes..we’ll come right here if needed.” I could see Ashley inside
the SUV craning around to watch my father and I, her expression
curious.
“Right, well, call me when you get home and
let me know everything is okay,” he ordered, his normal attitude
reasserting itself.
“I will,” I answered.
We had no sooner turned onto the main road
when Ashley turned to me, a determined set to her face, and
demanded, “Spill!”
I had known we would be having this
conversation; my daughter was just too sensitive to any changes in
our fragile lives. Despite that foreknowledge I still didn’t know
quite how to broach the subject. How do you tell your thirteen year
old daughter that the fairy tale monsters that lived under every
kid’s bed were real and that they did, in fact, want to steal her away in the night?
“Ash, I’m gonna tell you some things – things
that might make you doubt your Father’s sanity. But I promise you
that it’s all real, that your grandfather knows all about it and
even he believes it,” I began.
“Then, when we get home, I’ll show you proof.
Alright?”
“Dad you’re starting to scare me,” she
said.
“Well, I’m not going to lie to you, although
I’m really, really tempted to,” I said, glancing away from the road
to her face. Her wide eyes told me that she understood how serious
it was if I was tempted to lie to her.
Taking a deep breath, I started my story,
right at the beginning, with the possum carcass, Grandpa’s journal,
slowly working my way to Greer and the goblins in the forest.
“Dad, you’re serious?” she asked, when I got
done recounting the fight in the forest.
Instead of a verbal answer, I just pulled up
my sweatshirt on my right side, letting her see my holstered Sig. I
virtually never wore my gun anywhere, so the sight of it was as
uncharacteristic of me as my father being without a sidearm would
be.
She took a sharp breath in at the sight of my
handgun, but didn’t say anything else, so I continued on with the
tale. I told her how Greer had come back last evening, when she and
Lindsey had seen me talking with him at the point of a shotgun. And
again this morning in the barn. I told her what he told me – about
the world of Fairie, the two Courts, the Hunters and Guardians, and
the struggle for control of their world. How they had taken
children of Talent for untold centuries from this world and how our
own technology had created the opportunity for an even greater
invasion.
“Dad, if that was true, you would be calling
the police or the FBI or someone!”
“And tell them what? That elves, fairies and goblins were coming to
steal our children? How long would it take for Social Services to
arrive to cart you off?” I asked, ruthlessly applying one of our
greatest fears. My glance at her found un-spilled tears in her
eyes, her lip trembling. I pulled over immediately, set the hazard
lights flashing and hugged her hard.
“Listen, Ash, just because I can’t
call in the troops without sounding like a loony doesn’t mean we
aren’t working on it,” I said.
“Grandpa?” she asked, snuffing back her
tears.
“Who else do you know that can reach any
department in Homeland security from his cell?” I said.
“Dad is going to quietly see if there is any department that might possibly handle strange things
like this.”
“Like Fringe? ” she asked.
“Well, this is certainly wacky even by that’s
show’s standard. In the meantime, you and I are going to lie low
and keep a watch on things, till Greer
said, suddenly at a loss for what to call them.
“Pucks, Dad. Greer calls them pucks.”
“Yeah, pucks. Listen, at the first sign of
trouble you get back here. Leave your car facing the road. Is the
gas tank full? Maybe you should take an extra gun?” he babbled,
uncharacteristically nervous.
“Dad, we’ll be okay. Got plenty of gas, I
always park facing the road, don’t need any more guns, and,
yes..we’ll come right here if needed.” I could see Ashley inside
the SUV craning around to watch my father and I, her expression
curious.
“Right, well, call me when you get home and
let me know everything is okay,” he ordered, his normal attitude
reasserting itself.
“I will,” I answered.
We had no sooner turned onto the main road
when Ashley turned to me, a determined set to her face, and
demanded, “Spill!”
I had known we would be having this
conversation; my daughter was just too sensitive to any changes in
our fragile lives. Despite that foreknowledge I still didn’t know
quite how to broach the subject. How do you tell your thirteen year
old daughter that the fairy tale monsters that lived under every
kid’s bed were real and that they did, in fact, want to steal her away in the night?
“Ash, I’m gonna tell you some things – things
that might make you doubt your Father’s sanity. But I promise you
that it’s all real, that your grandfather knows all about it and
even he believes it,” I began.
“Then, when we get home, I’ll show you proof.
Alright?”
“Dad you’re starting to scare me,” she
said.
“Well, I’m not going to lie to you, although
I’m really, really tempted to,” I said, glancing away from the road
to her face. Her wide eyes told me that she understood how serious
it was if I was tempted to lie to her.
Taking a deep breath, I started my story,
right at the beginning, with the possum carcass, Grandpa’s journal,
slowly working my way to Greer and the goblins in the forest.
“Dad, you’re serious?” she asked, when I got
done recounting the fight in the forest.
Instead of a verbal answer, I just pulled up
my sweatshirt on my right side, letting her see my holstered Sig. I
virtually never wore my gun anywhere, so the sight of it was as
uncharacteristic of me as my father being without a sidearm would
be.
She took a sharp breath in at the sight of my
handgun, but didn’t say anything else, so I continued on with the
tale. I told her how Greer had come back last evening, when she and
Lindsey had seen me talking with him at the point of a shotgun. And
again this morning in the barn. I told her what he told me – about
the world of Fairie, the two Courts, the Hunters and Guardians, and
the struggle for control of their world. How they had taken
children of Talent for untold centuries from this world and how our
own technology had created the opportunity for an even greater
invasion.
“Dad, if that was true, you would be calling
the police or the FBI or someone!”
“And tell them what? That elves, fairies and goblins were coming to
steal our children? How long would it take for Social Services to
arrive to cart you off?” I asked, ruthlessly applying one of our
greatest fears. My glance at her found un-spilled tears in her
eyes, her lip trembling. I pulled over immediately, set the hazard
lights flashing and hugged her hard.
“Listen, Ash, just because I can’t
call in the troops without sounding like a loony doesn’t mean we
aren’t working on it,” I said.
“Grandpa?” she asked, snuffing back her
tears.
“Who else do you know that can reach any
department in Homeland security from his cell?” I said.
“Dad is going to quietly see if there is any department that might possibly handle strange things
like this.”
“Like Fringe? ” she asked.
“Well, this is certainly wacky even by that’s
show’s standard. In the meantime, you and I are going to lie low
and keep a watch on things, till Greer
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