Chapter 7 - Names

     “So,” I hesitated a moment, “Ms., um, Fairy Godmother? Is that what I should call you?” She laughed, not unkindly, and replied, “Drop the Ms. and the ‘um’ and that should do the trick. I’ve had many names and titles over the years, and that was one I didn’t despise, so it will work.”

       “Ok, Fairy Godmother it is.” I was starting to adjust, and trying to find my footing and comfort, since apparently I had just committed myself to a project that could last quite some time. I might as well get used to it! “So you’re really the Fairy Godmother from the Cinderella story?”

    She rolled her eyes a bit, and smirked. “I am the Fairy Godmother, or whatever magical intervention, from all of the Cinderella stories. I’m your birds in the Brothers Grimm story, your fairy godmother in Cendrillon, the fish in Yeh-Shen.”

    I lost a bit of the confidence I was trying to build up. “I’m afraid I’m not that familiar with the different versions of the story.” I glanced at the Crone. “Are you wanting to start her interview tonight? I suppose I could go ahead and set up what recording equipment I have here, but I’m not really prepared. And we had discussed getting some better equipment.”

    “Of course, this is just an introduction. We will begin our interviews on Monday evening, if that works for you. I am thinking about 7:30? That would give you time to go home after your work hours and eat some dinner, then come back? And tomorrow you can buy the recording equipment and read up a bit.”

    I was reeling less each time she spoke; I think I was adjusting to the spontaneity. But another question did spring to mind. “We did discuss rates, and a stipend for the equipment, but we didn’t discuss method of payment. I don’t know what kinds of transactions you’re used to, but I will need currency in a form that I can spend, and some kinds of record keeping or billing system to account for it, so that I can justify my income. I’m assuming you don’t have tax information on your end…” I trailed off.

    The Fairy Godmother’s head snapped back as she howled with laughter. “Tax information!! Oh that’s lovely, what an idea!!” She actually had a tear rolling down her cheek, she was laughing so hard. I blushed a little, but forced a smile and a shrug. “Yeah, I didn’t really think so, I just don’t want to have to launder money or like, get audited I guess. This project will increase my income substantially.” The Crone, smiling and chuckling, patted the Fairy Godmother on the shoulder and shushed her.

    “Not to fret. While we don’t have technology of our own, some of our compatriots have learned how to manipulate human technology quite well. I have a little friend who is quite good with money and computers, and he has set up an, I believe it’s called an ‘LLC’ for me, with a generous bank account, proper paperwork, and everything. All transactions will be handled by direct deposit to your bank account, and we will document everything sufficiently that it would pass the most stringent audit. Which, certainly, we will do everything in our power to prevent, since it just sounds dreadful. No fun at all.”

    The Fairy Godmother was looking back and forth at us intently, smiling and nodding as if this was the most entertaining conversation she had seen in years. She suddenly sat up, clapping her hands to her thighs abruptly, and said, “Well I think we should leave things there for now. You’ve clearly got things to do, and we’ve taken up enough of your time for today. We will see you Monday evening, then.”

    She stood up, and I could almost see the feathers that weren’t there rustling as she tidied her dress. I stuck my hand out, not sure how to do things, but wanting to be polite. “It was very nice to meet you, Fairy Godmother!” She humored me and shook my hand, smiling broadly. I suddenly gasped, “Oh! I never introduced myself, I’m-”

    “No.” She cut me off firmly. “I have a feeling it’s reasons like this that I was chosen to be your first interview.” She cut a sharp glance at the Crone, who smiled faintly. “Don’t tell your name to anyone she brings to you. It will give them power over you. You can choose to use your job title, or invent a name to use if you feel you must, but keep your own name to yourself. Understood?”

       “Yes ma’am,” I nodded, eyes wide. I hadn’t been rebuked like that since I was a child, and I wasn’t sure how else to respond.

       “Very good then. Take care, I will see you soon!” And she swirled her dress, shrinking back into the little bird, then diving back into the folds of the Crone’s dress. I stared, then looked up at the Crone. “Well, I guess that’s it until Monday?”

    She beamed. “I’m so glad things are working out. You should see that deposit in your account by the time you get home tonight. It will appear as if it posted during working hours yesterday, and you will get a letter in the mail this week with matching paperwork for your records. Enjoy the rest of your weekend! Goodbye!” And she winked out of existence, just as she had the night before. I slumped in my chair and pondered for a minute before gathering my things and heading home.

Chapter 6 - Fairy Godmother

               As soon I made my last mark on the scroll, it whipped shut and disappeared. I snapped my head up to the Crone and looked my question at her.

              “Don’t fret now, you will start to adjust to our ways of doing things very quickly, I have no doubt. And as the contract stated, should you ever wish to make adjustments to our agreement, you have only to ask, and we can decide together on how to proceed. If you decide you no longer wish to participate at any time, we can handle that situation as well. But for the moment, would you like to meet our first interviewee? I know you’re not ready to begin recording, but I thought it might be fun to give you a taste of what we will be working on.”

              I was already in neck-deep, so why not jump all the way in? “Sure,” I said, “who is it?”

              “I thought we would begin with some stories you are more likely to be familiar with, at least in their modern conceptions. I assume you know the story of Cinderella?”

              “Yes, I do. Well, I’ve seen the cartoon movie. I think it comes from a French story? And maybe there’s a Grimm brothers’ version too? I don’t know much about those.”

              She beamed. “Oh wonderful, I’m so glad you know about those! Don’t worry about the details at this point, we will get more into human story version research as we go – it would certainly help to have your perspective as we work on developing interview questions.”

              I started to realize she wasn’t just interested in using my equipment, but there were likely other reasons she wanted human involvement in this project.

              “So you know the basic story,” she continued, “and that there are different versions. In each one the details vary, but the basic idea is that a delightful young woman loses her mother and finds herself in an unpleasant situation. Through some type of magical intervention, she manages to dress herself beautifully and escape to wealth and happiness. I believe there is usually something about a shoe involved as well.”

              I nodded, “the glass slipper, in the one I know.” She laughed. “Ah yes, what an impractical thing. But either way, would you like to meet our character? You would know her best as ‘The Fairy Godmother’.”

              With that, she plunged her hand under another fold of her dress, and drew it forth to display a little bird sitting on her extended finger. It was small, maybe 5 or 6 inches tall, with a dainty face and beak, striking blue feathers trimmed with white, and a pale yellow breast. It eyed me sharply, quirking its little head to one side as if taking me in.

              “Hello,” I said, “it’s very nice to meet you.” The bird quirked its head the other way, turning to eye me from the other side. Then it looked up at the Crone. “Go ahead,” the Crone said, “it’s why we’re here after all!”

              The bird rustled a moment, then hopped up off the finger. So quickly I couldn’t see how it happened, a small, plump woman appeared standing beside the Crone, with brilliantly blue hair tipped with white and a pale yellow dress. “Well, hello yourself.” She sounded brisk, but not unkind. “It’s been a while since I’ve spoken to a human.” She looked around my office, quirking her head in a very bird-like way as she took in the computer. “Things certainly have changed. And it wouldn’t kill you to have a few plants in here. You don’t even have a window, though, so I suppose you couldn’t keep them alive.”

              “Oh, well, I could look into getting some plants.” I was caught off guard, and defaulted to accommodating. “As for the window, I could get some grow lights. They simulate sunlight for indoor plants.” She snapped her gaze back to me. “Simulated sunlight? Fascinating. Unnatural to be sure, by definition really, but fascinating.”

              The Crone threw her head back and laughed again, clapping her hands together. “Wonderful! I knew this was going to be entertaining. We are off to a delightful start!”

Chapter 5 - Project Proposal

               “As you’ve gathered, I’m sure, the world you know isn’t the only world. For simplification’s sake, we can refer to the world I live in as the ‘fairy world’. The fairy world has existed far longer than human memory, and while in many ways it is separate and distinct, it also overlaps and bridges with the human world. Some fairy world creatures enjoy traveling back and forth more than others, and there are places where it is easier or harder to cross over. This has led to humans experiencing a range of interactions with fairy creatures, with higher concentrations in certain areas of the world.

              “As you know, humans have recorded these experiences over time, and passed down the stories through the generations and across their communities. They have changed and distorted over time, as these things tend to do, and even those that began as relatively accurate representations of the encounters have since become almost unrecognizable works of fiction. And this is exactly the issue I wish to address.

              “You see, despite the differences between our worlds, there is a very large part of the fairy creature population that enjoys reading fairy tales of the human-written variety. They find the stories fascinating, especially since so few of them have had direct contact with humans in recent decades. But the portrayal of fairy creatures in the stories is so far removed from reality that some of the older generations are complaining about the youth reading these, well, ‘lies’ as they would say. I would like to remedy the situation by producing new, or rather original, versions of these stories that better represent the fairy creatures’ points of views.

              “This would be an ongoing project of large scope. Some of the creatures will be easier to track down than others, and some will be more or less willing to participate, but I think once we get going that word will spread and it will be easier to find the characters from the old tales and help them share their side of the stories.

              “And as for schedule and rates,” the Crone finally gave a long pause, glancing down at the paper on my desk before me, “The schedule for interviews and recordings will be variable, depending on availability, but I would suggest that we begin with a rate of $80 an hour for weekday evenings and $95 an hour for weekends or overnights, say after 8pm, for the interviews and recordings. Transcription, which can of course be done on your own schedule, could be at a rate of $110 an hour, with time and a half for any that spills into the weekend? While I don’t have a set timetable for these to be produced, I would like to see a relatively quick turnover so that we don’t get bogged down as we get further into the project.”

              She sat back and smiled at me. “How does this all sound?” I gave myself a moment to absorb and process. Nothing on my list seemed to mean much anymore, but I looked it over again. “Well, what about safety? Is there anything dangerous about this?” I started to ramp up. “And I’m not entirely sure why you think I’m the best person for this. And what would we start with? And do I need to do anything to my office to make room? I don’t have the best recording equipment since that isn’t really my focus, but I suppose it would do to start off. The rates seem reasonable enough, and I can stop taking on as many side projects, but I do still have a few regular clients I would want to hold on to.” I petered out.

              “Safety is my priority. You will never be left alone with anyone, and if you decide someone makes you too uncomfortable they will be removed immediately. I don’t anticipate any concerns, but all you have to do is say the word and I will take care of it. Your office will be fine. I can accommodate anything that needs to be taken care of as we conduct the interviews. As for equipment, I can provide a generous stipend to allow you to upgrade your system to whatever you think is best, which will of course all be yours to keep when the project is complete.

              “And as for ‘why you’,” her smile grew warmer, “if you will allow me a little mystique, I would like to hold off on answering that for a while, until I think you are better prepared to understand it. But I assure you, I do have very particular reasons.”

              I swallowed and nodded. “Ok then, so, how do we get started?” Chuckling, the crone reached under a fold in her dress and drew out a parchment scroll. “Let’s dot the ‘i’s and cross the ‘t’s, shall we?” She unrolled it on the desk. Words appeared in an ornate but legible scrawl, matching exactly what we had just discussed. It included the clause “subject to change with the full and unreserved agreement of both parties”. I looked it over a few times, making sure that the words didn’t change between readings, since they had seemed to appear out of nothing. They looked stable enough, and when I saw she was gently offering forward a quill, I took a quick breath of decision, took it from her hand, and signed.

Chapter 4 - The Meeting

             I woke up at my normal time, and for the first few minutes of the day everything else went normally too. It was around the time that I poured my second cup of coffee that I started to realize how truly strange the night before had been. I carried my mug to the futon and sat down to look over the legal pad I’d scrawled my list of questions on.

              I supposed I was just going to have to go in to the office that evening to see what was going to happen. Sometimes I still questioned why I paid rent on an office space when I had my own home, but I always came back to “it’s worth it.” When I had first started my transcription business I did work out of my one-bedroom apartment. I had set up a workstation in my living room area, and aside from some disruptions when the parking lot got loud, it really hadn’t been too bad. The problem had been one of schedule and routine – I would either struggle to get going and twiddle around the apartment trying to find motivation or I would work 18-20 hours straight, since I always had tasks on hand and could always feel them looking at me.

              Once I had enough regular clients and steady income, renting a little office room in the building up the street had seemed like a logical solution. I posted set work hours, I kept my workload reasonable, and I *only* worked from the office. I did have some equipment at home, but I pretended I didn’t, to keep myself from working off the clock.

              And that Saturday I found myself glad that I didn’t work out of my home anymore – I could only imagine how intrusive it would feel to have the Crone appear in my apartment without notice. Of course, this meant I had to break my own rules and go in to the office on a weekend, but it isn’t like anyone would know or care. I was pretty sure no one else in the building tended to work Saturday evenings, but there was no rule against it. Each office had its own locking door, and we each had a key fob for the building. As long as we didn’t bring anyone in with us we were welcome to come and go as we pleased. I did hesitate for a moment as I mulled it over, but decided I wasn’t breaking any rules – after all, I wasn’t going to be bringing anyone in with me. The Crone was handling getting in and out her way, whatever that meant. I was in the clear.

              The day crawled by, and I nibbled on a few snacks and zoned in and out of conscious thought. Finally, I gave up waiting and decided to head over to the office. I was too distracted to accomplish anything at home, so I might as well go in early and see if I could distract myself with something billable.

              I got to the office building and let myself in the side door. I was the only car in the parking lot on a Saturday afternoon. I did often walk, but since I had no idea how late I would be staying I figured I should drive. If nothing else, the abandoned car in the parking lot would be a sign to the building manager to come looking for me if something happened. If I walked, they wouldn’t even know I was there unless they thought to check the security footage from the door for some reason.

              The hall was lit only by the standby lights. I didn’t bother switching on the overheads. I unlocked my office door, then locked it back behind me. Just in case someone else decided to come in on a whim, I didn’t want them walking in on me and… whatever was about to happen.

              I sat down at my desk and pulled the folded-up paper I’d torn from the legal pad out of my pocket and smoothed it out. It felt just as absurd as it had when I’d looked it over that morning. But when I leaned back and looked around, I realized there were still papers scattered from when I had bolted out of my chair when the Crone first surprised me. At least that had definitely happened. I stood back up and started gathering up the papers. Before I knew it I was busy tidying and putting things away – all the end-of-week things I hadn’t finished doing the day before. I noticed a sticky note I had left for myself to resend an updated invoice to a client who had requested additional revisions after the original project had been completed, so I sat down to knock that out. I set the email to send Monday morning, since I didn’t want to let them see I was working on the weekend – I certainly didn’t want that to become an expectation.

              “Especially if I’m taking on this fairy tale project, I’m going to need to keep my weekends clear,” I said aloud to myself.

              “I’m glad to hear that, it sounds like you’re at least considering accepting!” I jumped and whirled in my chair to see the Crone standing in the corner, just where she had disappeared the night before. “We are going to have to come to an understanding about not sneaking up on me if this is going to work!” I took a deep breath and forced my body to relax as she smiled sheepishly.

              “So sorry, you’re absolutely right. We can discuss that as part of the terms of the project and find a solution, I’m sure.”

              I nodded, and gestured for her to sit across the desk from me. “Would you like a water? Or, um, I think there’s some Mountain Dew?” I pointed at the minifridge. She shook her head. “Thank you, I’m fine. Would you like to start with your questions, or shall I begin with an overview of my proposal?” I glanced down at the paper in front of me. “I suppose you go ahead, I might have more questions or less by the time you’re done, it’s hard to say.”

Chapter 3 - Questions

               Don’t get me wrong, I was a big reader as a kid and I devoured fairy tale books right alongside everything else, but it was never my niche in a way that I felt particularly knowledgeable about them. I knew they were way older than a lot of people assumed, and I knew that many had been made much more kid-friendly these days than the original versions, but that was about it. I was most familiar with the common modern versions, like Cinderella and Snow White – the blanched and palatable versions in kids’ books and movies.

              The term “crone” was familiar, but I wasn’t really sure what place it had in the fairy tale world, so once I roused myself and made it home (pretty sure it was pure mental auto-pilot, I don’t remember the trip at all), I grabbed my laptop and started a deep dive on fairy tales.

Wikipedia was of course the first thing to pop up when I searched for the Crone. It was kind of a generic term for an archetypal old lady figure from fairy tales, usually wise, sometimes wicked, but always some kind of powerful. It kind of felt right in that sense for the lady who had appeared and disappeared in my office, since I had definitely gotten a powerful vibe from her, but she didn’t look old at all, much less as old and wizened as the pictures I saw paired with the term “crone” in my search.

I wasn’t really sure where to start on anything else in my search, so I just kind of took a deep breath and typed in “are fairy tales real?”

I don’t know what I expected. A magical response to come through maybe? To confirm what I had experienced? Or to be redirected to a helpline maybe. Instead, it was exactly what you would think. Some things like “maybe, maybe not, who knows!” or “fairy tales can be assumed to be loosely based on real events” or “fairy tales are more palatable ways for children to learn about historical events” and “fairy tales are obviously fiction, you can tell from the magic and stuff”. Obviously I’m paraphrasing, but that’s the gist. So much for a deep dive. I had barely skimmed the surface and I wasn't sure where to go from there.

I went and laid down on my couch. Well, futon. Close enough. I don’t know why I started quibbling with myself over semantics at that moment but it was such a habit to be particular with my words that I suppose it was a way to calm my nerves.

Laying down only made me feel more ill at ease, since it seemed like I was treating myself as if I was sick, when I didn’t really think I was. I started to realize that more of me believed that it was real than didn’t. I sat up abruptly and reached across to the end table to grab a legal pad and a pen.

I was about to start a pro/con list to decide if I was going to take on the project for the Crone, but my pen stopped just short of the paper, and I realized that I had already decided. Maybe it was absurd, but there was something about her, and really the whole situation, that made me feel like I needed to say yes. So instead I started jotting down some thoughts and questions.

• Schedule/duration – how often and for how long?
• I need to be able to finish my current contracted work
• Will I be able to continue to take on my usual workload or will this occupy too much time?

• Pay – how much or what rate?
• Different rates for evening or late night? Weekend rates?
• Rate variability depend on task? (recording vs transcribing)

• Product – what format?
• probably not a digital file?
• paper print out?
• rough copy or bound?

• safety??
• what kind of creatures are we talking about
• do I need protections?
• can they all pop in and out like she did or will I need to smuggle them into the building?

I stopped and put my pen down. I stared at the last few lines, wondering how on earth I ended up writing something like that in earnest. “I need to go to bed,” I said out loud. So I did.

Chapter 2 - Fairy Tales

She jumped right in, and said, “Do you like fairy tales?”

              I stared blankly for a moment, then shrugged, “I enjoyed them as a kid, I suppose, and I don’t have a problem with them now, but I suppose I don’t give them much thought these days.” She nodded.

              “Well, you might want to start thinking about them. Because, they’re real.” She paused, watching for my reaction I suppose, but I couldn’t think of a reaction to give. She took a breath and continued, “well, the creatures are real, and the stories aren’t fictional, but they don’t always represent the full and accurate truth. That’s exactly why I’m here, to be honest. I am a historian of sorts, and I would like to produce a collection of accurate fairy tales, with your help.”

              I opened my mouth, then closed it again. She settled back, clearly giving me a moment to process. I skipped over the hardest part and said, “Well, you realize I’m not really a writer, right? I do transcription. I just type up recordings of people, I’m not really a storyteller.” She smiled, and seemed tickled that this was my sticking point. “Yes of course. That is actually exactly what I need.  You see, I intend to interview the very characters featured in the fairy tales, and I will need their stories transcribed to produce the text.” I felt my head bobbing in a nod of agreement.

              “I suppose, if you want to look over my rates, that we could set up a contract and you could send me the recordings. You’ll have to let me know what file formats you will be working with and what transcription style you prefer.” She gently raised a hand. “Ah, well yes. That’s why I came in person, you see. We, in the fairy creature world, don’t exactly have access to what you would call technology, and don’t have a way to record and preserve sound in the way that you are referencing. We have an oral tradition, where stories are passed on verbally from creature to creature. We do have writings and scribes, but I felt that this was something that would be better done with, for lack of a better phrase, a human touch.”

              I was still nodding, and I realized I was giving an impression of agreement and understanding that I didn’t really feel, so I raised my hands to my face and pressed them against my cheeks, forcing my head still. “Um. Right. I suppose the next logical question is, if you don’t have the ability to record, how exactly do you propose that I produce transcripts?” She shifted a little and grinned shyly. “I was hoping that you would be willing to hear the stories and interviews live, from the horses’ mouths as it were, and do both the recording and transcription. I would conduct the interviews here in your office, so that you can use your equipment.”

              She clearly saw my eyes widening. “And of course we can agree on compensation that is far greater than your standard rates, with added bonuses for the task of recording and the use of your personal space. And also,” she paused, “I believe something along the lines of what you would call ‘overtime’ or ‘after hours’ rates would be appropriate, since the majority of our interviewees would only be able to come after dark or in the wee hours of the night.”

              Despite my hands, my head started nodding on its own again. She seemed to pick up on my dumbfoundment, and took a slow breath, smiled, and stood abruptly. “I’ll let you think on it, and we can revisit tomorrow evening.” I blankly said, “oh, it’s Friday, I don’t work tomorrow.”

              “I have a feeling you’ll be here, at least I certainly hope so. Same time as today.” Her eyes twinkled a bit as she smiled, tilting her head at me. Not the normal, figurative type of twinkling eyes, but an actual, literal sparkle. “Ok,” I said. “Oh, but, before you go, who are you?”

              She broke out in a wide grin. “I suppose for now, you can just call me the Crone.” And she vanished. No puff of smoke, no swirl of cape, not even a blink of the eye. It was as if she flipped a light switch and simply turned off. 

Chapter 1 - It Begins

               It had been a long week. The short weeks were always long. Coming back into the office on a Tuesday after the holidays threw everything out of whack. Dating papers? Wrong year. Meeting schedule? Wrong day of the week. Lunch? Wrong time, wrong food, wrong all of it. The whole holiday off-routine thing means my body decides nothing is appealing and I shouldn’t have to eat on a schedule other than when I’m hungry.

              I had made it to Friday, somehow. I wasn’t quite as behind on things as I felt like I was, but I needed to get some ducks in a row before leaving for the weekend or the next week was going to suck.  I hovered beside my desk chair for a minute, undecided. I really needed to do a quick tidy of the office – put a few books back on the shelf, stack the papers neatly, maybe even get a few put in the file cabinet – or I wouldn’t be able to find what I needed come Monday. But… I did need to do a digital tidy up as well, and that could be done while sitting and having a snack. I sat. The physical tidy could be done, as it often was, in one last burst of energy before I took off for the weekend, likely the last couple of things with my bag already slung over my shoulder as I headed for the door.

              I slid the transcription pedal to the side with my foot as one hand reached for the mouse and the other for a bag of chips. I was done with the work-work, this last hour would just be making sure that files were labeled correctly and in the right folder, backed up to the cloud, and logged on the right billing spreadsheet.

              I was almost done, just a few more files to log and back up. I don’t know if it was the weird post-holiday schedule or just sitting funky in my chair, but I started to feel a knot in my back so I pushed back from the desk, stretching my hands up into the air and straightening my back. I startled as my upstretched hands brushed something soft, and I looked straight up to see an equally startled face looking back down at me.

              The next moments were a scramble, stacks of papers flying in the air as I panicked and lunged across my desk and the figure that had been leaning over me panicked and flailed backward. The last few papers floated lazily to the floor as I found myself on the floor beside my desk, looking up at my desk chair still slowly spinning, and a tall, lanky woman bracing herself against the bookshelf in the corner, one hand on her chest, eyes wide.

              “Well, I seem to have given both of us a startle!” Her voice was clear and high, but not fragile. It almost reminded me of an old lady teacher, one of the super strict kind who always sounded out of an old book, or one of those black and white movies that I never paid attention to when I was a kid.

              “Transatlantic accent,” I said. She blinked, and almost sort of smiled. “Well I suppose I have, in a way. Of course you would pick up on it.” I shook my head. “OK, but why are you in my office?” I started to get a bit more anxious as the surprise wore off. I glanced toward the door, then back at the strange lady. There was no way in hell I wouldn’t have seen her when I came in from my last break, and my desk faced the only door to the room. I would have seen anyone come in after me.

              She cleared her throat gently and squirmed just a bit. “Well, I was actually hoping to retain your services, I have quite a large project I would like to undertake and you seem to have just the skillset I’m looking for.” I blinked back at her for a moment. “Hold on.”

              I stood up, steadied myself at the side of the desk a moment. I walked to the door, opened it, and peered up and down the hallway. It was empty. I closed the door and walked back to the desk. “I’m so sorry, this is probably going to seem rude,” I said, “but I need to check something.” I reached out a hand and poked one finger at her shoulder. The fabric of her dress was soft, and the shoulder beneath was firm.  Her eyebrows lifted a bit, but she didn’t seem upset. “Uh huh,” I said, “you do seem to be here. And you want me to do work for you?” I looked up at her face. I realized she was taller than I had thought – everyone looks tall when you’re sitting on the floor – and she was very slender, but that poke at her shoulder was enough to let me know that she was likely pretty strong.

              She grinned a bit sheepishly, and something about the expression made me relax just a bit. “Well, yes. You see, I want to put together a collection of true stories, of fairy tales told in the first person. But while I have a gift of tongues, it unfortunately doesn’t extend to the written word. So I have been looking for someone who could transcribe the stories, and maybe even polish them up a bit so that they are easy to read.”

              I held up a hand. “True stories. Fairy tales.” I held one hand out to each side, balancing-the-scales style. “You see how that doesn’t quite match up, right?” I started to question exactly how tired I really was. I didn’t think I was at hallucination level of exhaustion, but there had a to be a first time for everything, right?

              She straightened up and gestured toward my desk chair and then another across the room. “Why don’t we sit a minute and I can explain a few things.” I shrugged, and decided to roll with it. “Sure, I suppose it couldn’t hurt!” I sat down and waited for her to begin.