and a violent ripple of fear courses through me. “La mojana, I think is a Columbian folklore about shapeshifting water demons… let’s just say, don’t drink the water down there.”
“Shapeshifters!” I explode and watch as every head in the spa turns in my direction. Buns hands me a fashion magazine while she holds one up to block her face from the other patrons in the spa.
Speaking in a low tone that only I can hear, she says, “Evie, I understand that this is difficult to comprehend, but is it really such a stretch if you think about it. You know that angels exist. If you look at some of the legends of several cultures, they all hold elements that point to our existence. Look closely and you’ll see similarities between cultural folklore and all manner of creatures that date back untold centuries.”
“How can you say that I am the most extraordinary being if there are shapeshifters out there?” I ask, pretending to look at the magazine.
“Evie. I can change my shape. You have seen me do it…the butterflies, remember?” Buns inquires and I am silent, remembering what she showed me yesterday. A blush stains my cheeks. I had witnessed her poof into a swarm of butterflies, but it hadn’t struck me as being “shapeshifting.” “Are you okay, sweetie?” Buns asks, seeing my reaction.
“Let me try to explain something to you, Buns. Until recently, I believed that I was entirely human. As a human, I accepted that I was the most powerful being on the planet—with the remote exception of running into a bear, mountain lion, alligator, or shark—all easily avoidable in most situations. The only thing I really had to fear was another human,” I say.
“Sweetie, you really should’ve had a healthy respect for weather, too, because that is what usually wipes out civilizations faster than even plagues, which by the way, are scarier than sharks,” Buns replies. When she sees the frown on my face she says, “What? I’m just saying that bacteria is not a human’s friend either.”
“So now,” I continue on as if she hadn’t interrupted me, “I find out that there could be a giant out there who would want to ‘grind my bones to make his bread?’” I ask, quoting the old fable.
Buns wrinkles her nose at that. “Not on my watch,” she says. “Plus, you are way faster than any giant. You are gonna be really hard to catch soon and almost impossible to contain. You’ll be able to fly, run, shapeshift, and the strength you’ll possess will rival the Powers. I would like to see a giant try to take you.”
“So you are saying there are giants,” I reply, cringing.
“Evie, relax—you worry too much,” Buns says, kicking back and sipping on the ice tea she had been given earlier.
“Relax? Oh, I’m relaxed. I’ll just let you break the news to Russell and see how he takes it,” I reply tensely, and the thought of Russell sends a pang of longing through me that I wasn’t at all expecting. I miss him, I think. I forgot that I now have someone who I can share all of this with because he is kind of in the same boat…he is the only being like me in the universe. I wonder how he’ll take the news that fairytales are real. Maybe he already figured it out. I wonder how he is taking it. Is he a prisoner to it or will he be carried through it… transcend it?
A crushing wave of guilt that I have been able to keep at bay since we left Crestwood comes down like a heavy weight on me. I haven’t been looking out for Russell. I have let everyone else take care of him while I have wallowed in sadness. I suddenly feel very old again, but not wise. If the situation was reversed, I know in my heart that he would’ve done a better job taking care of me, than I have done for him.
I can’t let go of him, that much is clear. I can still feel what it was like to kneel on the cold, hard tile floor in the 7-Eleven, beside his still body, watching his hands turn blue as his blood seeped out of him. I remember
“Shapeshifters!” I explode and watch as every head in the spa turns in my direction. Buns hands me a fashion magazine while she holds one up to block her face from the other patrons in the spa.
Speaking in a low tone that only I can hear, she says, “Evie, I understand that this is difficult to comprehend, but is it really such a stretch if you think about it. You know that angels exist. If you look at some of the legends of several cultures, they all hold elements that point to our existence. Look closely and you’ll see similarities between cultural folklore and all manner of creatures that date back untold centuries.”
“How can you say that I am the most extraordinary being if there are shapeshifters out there?” I ask, pretending to look at the magazine.
“Evie. I can change my shape. You have seen me do it…the butterflies, remember?” Buns inquires and I am silent, remembering what she showed me yesterday. A blush stains my cheeks. I had witnessed her poof into a swarm of butterflies, but it hadn’t struck me as being “shapeshifting.” “Are you okay, sweetie?” Buns asks, seeing my reaction.
“Let me try to explain something to you, Buns. Until recently, I believed that I was entirely human. As a human, I accepted that I was the most powerful being on the planet—with the remote exception of running into a bear, mountain lion, alligator, or shark—all easily avoidable in most situations. The only thing I really had to fear was another human,” I say.
“Sweetie, you really should’ve had a healthy respect for weather, too, because that is what usually wipes out civilizations faster than even plagues, which by the way, are scarier than sharks,” Buns replies. When she sees the frown on my face she says, “What? I’m just saying that bacteria is not a human’s friend either.”
“So now,” I continue on as if she hadn’t interrupted me, “I find out that there could be a giant out there who would want to ‘grind my bones to make his bread?’” I ask, quoting the old fable.
Buns wrinkles her nose at that. “Not on my watch,” she says. “Plus, you are way faster than any giant. You are gonna be really hard to catch soon and almost impossible to contain. You’ll be able to fly, run, shapeshift, and the strength you’ll possess will rival the Powers. I would like to see a giant try to take you.”
“So you are saying there are giants,” I reply, cringing.
“Evie, relax—you worry too much,” Buns says, kicking back and sipping on the ice tea she had been given earlier.
“Relax? Oh, I’m relaxed. I’ll just let you break the news to Russell and see how he takes it,” I reply tensely, and the thought of Russell sends a pang of longing through me that I wasn’t at all expecting. I miss him, I think. I forgot that I now have someone who I can share all of this with because he is kind of in the same boat…he is the only being like me in the universe. I wonder how he’ll take the news that fairytales are real. Maybe he already figured it out. I wonder how he is taking it. Is he a prisoner to it or will he be carried through it… transcend it?
A crushing wave of guilt that I have been able to keep at bay since we left Crestwood comes down like a heavy weight on me. I haven’t been looking out for Russell. I have let everyone else take care of him while I have wallowed in sadness. I suddenly feel very old again, but not wise. If the situation was reversed, I know in my heart that he would’ve done a better job taking care of me, than I have done for him.
I can’t let go of him, that much is clear. I can still feel what it was like to kneel on the cold, hard tile floor in the 7-Eleven, beside his still body, watching his hands turn blue as his blood seeped out of him. I remember
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